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Perhaps you would question the title of my story and say that it's more than a little clichéd. However, read the story and all will be explained.
*****************
Just after the end of time, in a rickety old house, past the horizon and just over the brink of insanity I was perched on the edge of my bed with grandpa Joe leaning against the door frame directly in front of me.
He was not dead. He was much the opposite. He was lively considering he'd existed since the dawn of time. You might have seen them on the television before. The cheesy smiling elderly man, who is constantly rolling around with the kids and then gets them in trouble because they haven't done their homework. However, I had no-one to tell me off. My parents perished during the apocalypse that wiped out the majority of the universe, yet seemed to leave this sleepy western town to rest in peace. I raised my head from looking searchingly at my feet, as he began to speak:
"Now y'all done your chores?" He said in an ol' timey manner I only ever heard grandpa speak in.
"Sure have Papa Joe." I said assuringly. Sometimes I drifted into his way of talking. It just seemed more accommodating.
"Good. Then I got somethin' for ya. Come with me to ma study." He held out his hand. I clasped it and said,
"What is it Papa?" It must be something special, because rarely did he use a softer tone of voice.
I walked across the floorboards of my bedroom tentatively at first, then hurried when he bared teeth in a smile. In his almost metronomic step, he plodded down the hall way with me slightly hanging behind his right side. Then he opened the door and held it open and halted to one side of it as if suggesting I should go in first. In case I forgot to mention, he was about 6'10"- taller than your average guy. They called him Huge Joe, or so he said. He held the door open with his hand at the top. It created an arch under which I could pass. He began to speak again:
"Why don't you take a look inside the top drawer?"
"O...ok." I said with the words stolen from my mouth for some reason.
I walked over and slipped my fingers through the handle. I turned my head over my shoulder for reassurance. Again he smiled.
I opened the drawer and instantly gasped.
"Papa! Papa! Why have you got all these diamonds?!" He remained silent. "Y'all got so many of 'em." As if I could possibly believe my eyes, grandpa Joe broke his silence with:
"Look in the other drawers..."
I did and yet more glinting diamonds blinded my eyes. "I don't show many people this room Jimmy." Then he he twisted a handle on the wall. The panels on the wall all rotated very slowly, with an almost undetectable mechanical noise accompanying them. I blinked heavily and opened my eyes even wider. There must have been over a hundred-million. I never would've expected anything like this from grandpa. He was such an honest and relatively meagre person. I was careful not to touch them, until grandpa said so.
On closer inspection I noticed labels on the diamonds that were behind the panels. The diamonds in the draws had not got a label on. On when I focused my vision on one particular diamond, I made some words out:
*Roger Johnson- 1984*
I was mystified. A name? What could that possibly mean. I checked another:
*Lesley Cunningham- 3012*
I checked another and another and another:
*Phillipe Crook- 1056*
*Kerzakov Jirikiri- 2006*
*Kobe Santiago- 3012*
Infact, many of the labels seemed to have *XXXXXXXXX- 3012*. I wondered why.
"Granpa. What do these here labels mean?"
"They're the person's name and when they died."
"The person's..?" I looked inquisitively into his eyes.
"Yeah. The person whose inside them."
"Inside them!?"
"Yeah. The person dies and then I write the names on the label and the year."
"So each of these people are inside the crystals?"
"Not particularly. Just their souls."
"You mean, that their souls are inside the diamonds?"
"Yeah." This made me move the diamond to my eye and squint to look inside.
Just as I thought grandpa Joe was going mad, I saw something. It was a face, neck and shoulders. Of a man. Smiling. It was as if he was looking at me. I picked up another, noticing grandpa hadn't punished me for raising the first one I touched. I looked through more, each in turn had a man or woman of every race, creed and colour inside. One was different.
This diamond contained a woman. I couldn't see her face, because she had her hands over her mouth and eyes and was streaming with tears. It saddened me to see someone so unhappy.
"Papa."
"Yes?"
"Why's she crying?"
"She was murdered."
"Murdered?"
"Yup. She was beaten up and eventually her throat was slit." He lowered his head and his tone.
I looked through loads of them just skimming the details and having a glance into them. Now I understood why so many had 3012 on. That was the year of the end of the world. Obviously they were the masses who had suffered a quick and painless, or in some cases excruciatingly long, death.
He showed me one more thing. He placed the diamond in my palm and closed my fingers for me. He whispered.
"Close your eyes. Now think of life."
"What?" Maybe he was crazy.
"Think of life. Think of what it feels like to be alive. Taste the bacon from breakfast every morning. Smell the roses from outside. Take a breath of the world."
There was a humming noise, it began to grow in stature. It became almost deafening, until there was a cracking sound. I opened my eyes because the noise had stopped. A young man was standing in front of me. My jaw dropped, as he slid his hands over his clothes. I didn't know if he couldn't believe he was here more, or me. I dropped the crystal. In a flash he had disappeared.
"What?"
"You have to keep a hold of it."
An idea just crossed my mind. I could bring my parents back!
"Papa, papa!"
"We could get momma and dad back."
"No we can't" He said in a harsh, strong voice. It almost scared me. "Once people are gone you can't bring them back. You'll become too attached. I knew this would happen. You can come in here whenever you want for them, to talk to them, but that's it."
My heart sunk and I began to cry. It was so cruel how a brilliant opportunity had come and been snatched away, like a lolly from a child, in literally seconds.
Why did grandpa have all these? I just don't know. Then it hit me. He was...'him'. I dried my tears and thought for a second. I thought about all the people who had passed through the ages. I thought about where grandpa lived and how it seemed to be left, even though the ending destruction promised to erase everything.
I remembered something. Whenever I had visited Grandpa Joe in the previous years, he said something that had always confused me. Until right now.
"Make sure that you die happy, son. Diamonds are forever."
*****************
Just after the end of time, in a rickety old house, past the horizon and just over the brink of insanity I was perched on the edge of my bed with grandpa Joe leaning against the door frame directly in front of me.
He was not dead. He was much the opposite. He was lively considering he'd existed since the dawn of time. You might have seen them on the television before. The cheesy smiling elderly man, who is constantly rolling around with the kids and then gets them in trouble because they haven't done their homework. However, I had no-one to tell me off. My parents perished during the apocalypse that wiped out the majority of the universe, yet seemed to leave this sleepy western town to rest in peace. I raised my head from looking searchingly at my feet, as he began to speak:
"Now y'all done your chores?" He said in an ol' timey manner I only ever heard grandpa speak in.
"Sure have Papa Joe." I said assuringly. Sometimes I drifted into his way of talking. It just seemed more accommodating.
"Good. Then I got somethin' for ya. Come with me to ma study." He held out his hand. I clasped it and said,
"What is it Papa?" It must be something special, because rarely did he use a softer tone of voice.
I walked across the floorboards of my bedroom tentatively at first, then hurried when he bared teeth in a smile. In his almost metronomic step, he plodded down the hall way with me slightly hanging behind his right side. Then he opened the door and held it open and halted to one side of it as if suggesting I should go in first. In case I forgot to mention, he was about 6'10"- taller than your average guy. They called him Huge Joe, or so he said. He held the door open with his hand at the top. It created an arch under which I could pass. He began to speak again:
"Why don't you take a look inside the top drawer?"
"O...ok." I said with the words stolen from my mouth for some reason.
I walked over and slipped my fingers through the handle. I turned my head over my shoulder for reassurance. Again he smiled.
I opened the drawer and instantly gasped.
"Papa! Papa! Why have you got all these diamonds?!" He remained silent. "Y'all got so many of 'em." As if I could possibly believe my eyes, grandpa Joe broke his silence with:
"Look in the other drawers..."
I did and yet more glinting diamonds blinded my eyes. "I don't show many people this room Jimmy." Then he he twisted a handle on the wall. The panels on the wall all rotated very slowly, with an almost undetectable mechanical noise accompanying them. I blinked heavily and opened my eyes even wider. There must have been over a hundred-million. I never would've expected anything like this from grandpa. He was such an honest and relatively meagre person. I was careful not to touch them, until grandpa said so.
On closer inspection I noticed labels on the diamonds that were behind the panels. The diamonds in the draws had not got a label on. On when I focused my vision on one particular diamond, I made some words out:
*Roger Johnson- 1984*
I was mystified. A name? What could that possibly mean. I checked another:
*Lesley Cunningham- 3012*
I checked another and another and another:
*Phillipe Crook- 1056*
*Kerzakov Jirikiri- 2006*
*Kobe Santiago- 3012*
Infact, many of the labels seemed to have *XXXXXXXXX- 3012*. I wondered why.
"Granpa. What do these here labels mean?"
"They're the person's name and when they died."
"The person's..?" I looked inquisitively into his eyes.
"Yeah. The person whose inside them."
"Inside them!?"
"Yeah. The person dies and then I write the names on the label and the year."
"So each of these people are inside the crystals?"
"Not particularly. Just their souls."
"You mean, that their souls are inside the diamonds?"
"Yeah." This made me move the diamond to my eye and squint to look inside.
Just as I thought grandpa Joe was going mad, I saw something. It was a face, neck and shoulders. Of a man. Smiling. It was as if he was looking at me. I picked up another, noticing grandpa hadn't punished me for raising the first one I touched. I looked through more, each in turn had a man or woman of every race, creed and colour inside. One was different.
This diamond contained a woman. I couldn't see her face, because she had her hands over her mouth and eyes and was streaming with tears. It saddened me to see someone so unhappy.
"Papa."
"Yes?"
"Why's she crying?"
"She was murdered."
"Murdered?"
"Yup. She was beaten up and eventually her throat was slit." He lowered his head and his tone.
I looked through loads of them just skimming the details and having a glance into them. Now I understood why so many had 3012 on. That was the year of the end of the world. Obviously they were the masses who had suffered a quick and painless, or in some cases excruciatingly long, death.
He showed me one more thing. He placed the diamond in my palm and closed my fingers for me. He whispered.
"Close your eyes. Now think of life."
"What?" Maybe he was crazy.
"Think of life. Think of what it feels like to be alive. Taste the bacon from breakfast every morning. Smell the roses from outside. Take a breath of the world."
There was a humming noise, it began to grow in stature. It became almost deafening, until there was a cracking sound. I opened my eyes because the noise had stopped. A young man was standing in front of me. My jaw dropped, as he slid his hands over his clothes. I didn't know if he couldn't believe he was here more, or me. I dropped the crystal. In a flash he had disappeared.
"What?"
"You have to keep a hold of it."
An idea just crossed my mind. I could bring my parents back!
"Papa, papa!"
"We could get momma and dad back."
"No we can't" He said in a harsh, strong voice. It almost scared me. "Once people are gone you can't bring them back. You'll become too attached. I knew this would happen. You can come in here whenever you want for them, to talk to them, but that's it."
My heart sunk and I began to cry. It was so cruel how a brilliant opportunity had come and been snatched away, like a lolly from a child, in literally seconds.
Why did grandpa have all these? I just don't know. Then it hit me. He was...'him'. I dried my tears and thought for a second. I thought about all the people who had passed through the ages. I thought about where grandpa lived and how it seemed to be left, even though the ending destruction promised to erase everything.
I remembered something. Whenever I had visited Grandpa Joe in the previous years, he said something that had always confused me. Until right now.
"Make sure that you die happy, son. Diamonds are forever."
Page:
Perhaps you would question the title of my story and say that it's more than a little clichéd. However, read the story and all will be explained.
*****************
Just after the end of time, in a rickety old house, past the horizon and just over the brink of insanity I was perched on the edge of my bed with grandpa Joe leaning against the door frame directly in front of me.
He was not dead. He was much the opposite. He was lively considering he'd existed since the dawn of time. You might have seen them on the television before. The cheesy smiling elderly man, who is constantly rolling around with the kids and then gets them in trouble because they haven't done their homework. However, I had no-one to tell me off. My parents perished during the apocalypse that wiped out the majority of the universe, yet seemed to leave this sleepy western town to rest in peace. I raised my head from looking searchingly at my feet, as he began to speak:
"Now y'all done your chores?" He said in an ol' timey manner I only ever heard grandpa speak in.
"Sure have Papa Joe." I said assuringly. Sometimes I drifted into his way of talking. It just seemed more accommodating.
"Good. Then I got somethin' for ya. Come with me to ma study." He held out his hand. I clasped it and said,
"What is it Papa?" It must be something special, because rarely did he use a softer tone of voice.
I walked across the floorboards of my bedroom tentatively at first, then hurried when he bared teeth in a smile. In his almost metronomic step, he plodded down the hall way with me slightly hanging behind his right side. Then he opened the door and held it open and halted to one side of it as if suggesting I should go in first. In case I forgot to mention, he was about 6'10"- taller than your average guy. They called him Huge Joe, or so he said. He held the door open with his hand at the top. It created an arch under which I could pass. He began to speak again:
"Why don't you take a look inside the top drawer?"
"O...ok." I said with the words stolen from my mouth for some reason.
I walked over and slipped my fingers through the handle. I turned my head over my shoulder for reassurance. Again he smiled.
I opened the drawer and instantly gasped.
"Papa! Papa! Why have you got all these diamonds?!" He remained silent. "Y'all got so many of 'em." As if I could possibly believe my eyes, grandpa Joe broke his silence with:
"Look in the other drawers..."
I did and yet more glinting diamonds blinded my eyes. "I don't show many people this room Jimmy." Then he he twisted a handle on the wall. The panels on the wall all rotated very slowly, with an almost undetectable mechanical noise accompanying them. I blinked heavily and opened my eyes even wider. There must have been over a hundred-million. I never would've expected anything like this from grandpa. He was such an honest and relatively meagre person. I was careful not to touch them, until grandpa said so.
On closer inspection I noticed labels on the diamonds that were behind the panels. The diamonds in the draws had not got a label on. On when I focused my vision on one particular diamond, I made some words out:
*Roger Johnson- 1984*
I was mystified. A name? What could that possibly mean. I checked another:
*Lesley Cunningham- 3012*
I checked another and another and another:
*Phillipe Crook- 1056*
*Kerzakov Jirikiri- 2006*
*Kobe Santiago- 3012*
Infact, many of the labels seemed to have *XXXXXXXXX- 3012*. I wondered why.
"Granpa. What do these here labels mean?"
"They're the person's name and when they died."
"The person's..?" I looked inquisitively into his eyes.
"Yeah. The person whose inside them."
"Inside them!?"
"Yeah. The person dies and then I write the names on the label and the year."
"So each of these people are inside the crystals?"
"Not particularly. Just their souls."
"You mean, that their souls are inside the diamonds?"
"Yeah." This made me move the diamond to my eye and squint to look inside.
Just as I thought grandpa Joe was going mad, I saw something. It was a face, neck and shoulders. Of a man. Smiling. It was as if he was looking at me. I picked up another, noticing grandpa hadn't punished me for raising the first one I touched. I looked through more, each in turn had a man or woman of every race, creed and colour inside. One was different.
This diamond contained a woman. I couldn't see her face, because she had her hands over her mouth and eyes and was streaming with tears. It saddened me to see someone so unhappy.
"Papa."
"Yes?"
"Why's she crying?"
"She was murdered."
"Murdered?"
"Yup. She was beaten up and eventually her throat was slit." He lowered his head and his tone.
I looked through loads of them just skimming the details and having a glance into them. Now I understood why so many had 3012 on. That was the year of the end of the world. Obviously they were the masses who had suffered a quick and painless, or in some cases excruciatingly long, death.
He showed me one more thing. He placed the diamond in my palm and closed my fingers for me. He whispered.
"Close your eyes. Now think of life."
"What?" Maybe he was crazy.
"Think of life. Think of what it feels like to be alive. Taste the bacon from breakfast every morning. Smell the roses from outside. Take a breath of the world."
There was a humming noise, it began to grow in stature. It became almost deafening, until there was a cracking sound. I opened my eyes because the noise had stopped. A young man was standing in front of me. My jaw dropped, as he slid his hands over his clothes. I didn't know if he couldn't believe he was here more, or me. I dropped the crystal. In a flash he had disappeared.
"What?"
"You have to keep a hold of it."
An idea just crossed my mind. I could bring my parents back!
"Papa, papa!"
"We could get momma and dad back."
"No we can't" He said in a harsh, strong voice. It almost scared me. "Once people are gone you can't bring them back. You'll become too attached. I knew this would happen. You can come in here whenever you want for them, to talk to them, but that's it."
My heart sunk and I began to cry. It was so cruel how a brilliant opportunity had come and been snatched away, like a lolly from a child, in literally seconds.
Why did grandpa have all these? I just don't know. Then it hit me. He was...'him'. I dried my tears and thought for a second. I thought about all the people who had passed through the ages. I thought about where grandpa lived and how it seemed to be left, even though the ending destruction promised to erase everything.
I remembered something. Whenever I had visited Grandpa Joe in the previous years, he said something that had always confused me. Until right now.
"Make sure that you die happy, son. Diamonds are forever."
*****************
Just after the end of time, in a rickety old house, past the horizon and just over the brink of insanity I was perched on the edge of my bed with grandpa Joe leaning against the door frame directly in front of me.
He was not dead. He was much the opposite. He was lively considering he'd existed since the dawn of time. You might have seen them on the television before. The cheesy smiling elderly man, who is constantly rolling around with the kids and then gets them in trouble because they haven't done their homework. However, I had no-one to tell me off. My parents perished during the apocalypse that wiped out the majority of the universe, yet seemed to leave this sleepy western town to rest in peace. I raised my head from looking searchingly at my feet, as he began to speak:
"Now y'all done your chores?" He said in an ol' timey manner I only ever heard grandpa speak in.
"Sure have Papa Joe." I said assuringly. Sometimes I drifted into his way of talking. It just seemed more accommodating.
"Good. Then I got somethin' for ya. Come with me to ma study." He held out his hand. I clasped it and said,
"What is it Papa?" It must be something special, because rarely did he use a softer tone of voice.
I walked across the floorboards of my bedroom tentatively at first, then hurried when he bared teeth in a smile. In his almost metronomic step, he plodded down the hall way with me slightly hanging behind his right side. Then he opened the door and held it open and halted to one side of it as if suggesting I should go in first. In case I forgot to mention, he was about 6'10"- taller than your average guy. They called him Huge Joe, or so he said. He held the door open with his hand at the top. It created an arch under which I could pass. He began to speak again:
"Why don't you take a look inside the top drawer?"
"O...ok." I said with the words stolen from my mouth for some reason.
I walked over and slipped my fingers through the handle. I turned my head over my shoulder for reassurance. Again he smiled.
I opened the drawer and instantly gasped.
"Papa! Papa! Why have you got all these diamonds?!" He remained silent. "Y'all got so many of 'em." As if I could possibly believe my eyes, grandpa Joe broke his silence with:
"Look in the other drawers..."
I did and yet more glinting diamonds blinded my eyes. "I don't show many people this room Jimmy." Then he he twisted a handle on the wall. The panels on the wall all rotated very slowly, with an almost undetectable mechanical noise accompanying them. I blinked heavily and opened my eyes even wider. There must have been over a hundred-million. I never would've expected anything like this from grandpa. He was such an honest and relatively meagre person. I was careful not to touch them, until grandpa said so.
On closer inspection I noticed labels on the diamonds that were behind the panels. The diamonds in the draws had not got a label on. On when I focused my vision on one particular diamond, I made some words out:
*Roger Johnson- 1984*
I was mystified. A name? What could that possibly mean. I checked another:
*Lesley Cunningham- 3012*
I checked another and another and another:
*Phillipe Crook- 1056*
*Kerzakov Jirikiri- 2006*
*Kobe Santiago- 3012*
Infact, many of the labels seemed to have *XXXXXXXXX- 3012*. I wondered why.
"Granpa. What do these here labels mean?"
"They're the person's name and when they died."
"The person's..?" I looked inquisitively into his eyes.
"Yeah. The person whose inside them."
"Inside them!?"
"Yeah. The person dies and then I write the names on the label and the year."
"So each of these people are inside the crystals?"
"Not particularly. Just their souls."
"You mean, that their souls are inside the diamonds?"
"Yeah." This made me move the diamond to my eye and squint to look inside.
Just as I thought grandpa Joe was going mad, I saw something. It was a face, neck and shoulders. Of a man. Smiling. It was as if he was looking at me. I picked up another, noticing grandpa hadn't punished me for raising the first one I touched. I looked through more, each in turn had a man or woman of every race, creed and colour inside. One was different.
This diamond contained a woman. I couldn't see her face, because she had her hands over her mouth and eyes and was streaming with tears. It saddened me to see someone so unhappy.
"Papa."
"Yes?"
"Why's she crying?"
"She was murdered."
"Murdered?"
"Yup. She was beaten up and eventually her throat was slit." He lowered his head and his tone.
I looked through loads of them just skimming the details and having a glance into them. Now I understood why so many had 3012 on. That was the year of the end of the world. Obviously they were the masses who had suffered a quick and painless, or in some cases excruciatingly long, death.
He showed me one more thing. He placed the diamond in my palm and closed my fingers for me. He whispered.
"Close your eyes. Now think of life."
"What?" Maybe he was crazy.
"Think of life. Think of what it feels like to be alive. Taste the bacon from breakfast every morning. Smell the roses from outside. Take a breath of the world."
There was a humming noise, it began to grow in stature. It became almost deafening, until there was a cracking sound. I opened my eyes because the noise had stopped. A young man was standing in front of me. My jaw dropped, as he slid his hands over his clothes. I didn't know if he couldn't believe he was here more, or me. I dropped the crystal. In a flash he had disappeared.
"What?"
"You have to keep a hold of it."
An idea just crossed my mind. I could bring my parents back!
"Papa, papa!"
"We could get momma and dad back."
"No we can't" He said in a harsh, strong voice. It almost scared me. "Once people are gone you can't bring them back. You'll become too attached. I knew this would happen. You can come in here whenever you want for them, to talk to them, but that's it."
My heart sunk and I began to cry. It was so cruel how a brilliant opportunity had come and been snatched away, like a lolly from a child, in literally seconds.
Why did grandpa have all these? I just don't know. Then it hit me. He was...'him'. I dried my tears and thought for a second. I thought about all the people who had passed through the ages. I thought about where grandpa lived and how it seemed to be left, even though the ending destruction promised to erase everything.
I remembered something. Whenever I had visited Grandpa Joe in the previous years, he said something that had always confused me. Until right now.
"Make sure that you die happy, son. Diamonds are forever."
I liked that story. Nice tale, nice idea and very easy to read :)
psst - it's drawer or drawers
psst - it's drawer or drawers
Thanks. Of course I knew, I'm just tired.
I should probably learn how to use hypertags, eh?
;)
I should probably learn how to use hypertags, eh?
;)
Argh.
It's happening again. A few looks and no comments...
I can't believe that people can't read it for length. It wasn't that bad. And if they've viewed it then they've looked past the cringingly cliched title...
It's happening again. A few looks and no comments...
I can't believe that people can't read it for length. It wasn't that bad. And if they've viewed it then they've looked past the cringingly cliched title...
Quiet, most of my stories are very short but only a few looks. It just depends on first impressions i.e an interesting topic title and to be perfectly honest I feel you should be shot for the title that you used.
Fine.
EVERYONE: Assume the title is Diamonds Aren't Just for Life.
Happy? That just miraculously made the piece of prose over 20 times better..........
Pffft.
EVERYONE: Assume the title is Diamonds Aren't Just for Life.
Happy? That just miraculously made the piece of prose over 20 times better..........
Pffft.
No, but making a first impression is important. If you saw a title about something that didn't interest you and a title about something your into which one would you go for? This is the point im trying to make.
I've all ready pointed out, that with 18 or whatever views, people have all ready looked past the title.
A fragile ego?
:D
Now you sound like FFF. He said something very similar a while back. Not everyone who reads a story makes a comment. It still surprises me when I see a comment from someone who doesn't usually comment as I didn't realise that they actually read any of the stories.
I read most of the stories on here but it is usually after everyone has commented and I've nothing to add. It doesn't take anything away from my enjoyment (or not) of the story I read.
I'm waffling again aren't I?
* goes for another can of lager *
:D
Now you sound like FFF. He said something very similar a while back. Not everyone who reads a story makes a comment. It still surprises me when I see a comment from someone who doesn't usually comment as I didn't realise that they actually read any of the stories.
I read most of the stories on here but it is usually after everyone has commented and I've nothing to add. It doesn't take anything away from my enjoyment (or not) of the story I read.
I'm waffling again aren't I?
* goes for another can of lager *
Ineedsleep wrote:
> A fragile ego?
>
> :D
>
> Now you sound like FFF.
Ah. Bless. He'll be angry though.
:D
> He said something very similar a while back.
> Not everyone who reads a story makes a comment. It still surprises
> me when I see a comment from someone who doesn't usually comment as I
> didn't realise that they actually read any of the stories.
I guess I'm a hypocrite then. I always used to read the stories, particularly the early SSC's. Reading his stories is practically the reason I voted for Glovey when he became Notable.
:)
I don't really read the stories any more, because spare time is used writing stories now. If I do read a story now, I feel obliged to comment, though. However small, because I know another yay or nay will make the author more sure of the responses they've had so far.
> I'm waffling again aren't I?
Nono. A reply of this kind is better than no reply at all.
:)
> * goes for another can of lager *
Wahey. Good ho. All's well.
> A fragile ego?
>
> :D
>
> Now you sound like FFF.
Ah. Bless. He'll be angry though.
:D
> He said something very similar a while back.
> Not everyone who reads a story makes a comment. It still surprises
> me when I see a comment from someone who doesn't usually comment as I
> didn't realise that they actually read any of the stories.
I guess I'm a hypocrite then. I always used to read the stories, particularly the early SSC's. Reading his stories is practically the reason I voted for Glovey when he became Notable.
:)
I don't really read the stories any more, because spare time is used writing stories now. If I do read a story now, I feel obliged to comment, though. However small, because I know another yay or nay will make the author more sure of the responses they've had so far.
> I'm waffling again aren't I?
Nono. A reply of this kind is better than no reply at all.
:)
> * goes for another can of lager *
Wahey. Good ho. All's well.
Page: