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There once was a boy who wanted more.
He'd climb trees, but when he reached the topmost branches, he was always disappointed that he had to stop. He wanted to go on climbing. Higher and further. He wanted more.
He'd listen to music, but the melodies didn't quite go where he wanted them to. He could always hear in his own mind something better. Something more epic. Something more beautiful. He wanted more.
He'd read stories, but they never were as good as he'd imagined. He could always think of stronger plots and more intriguing characters. Every tale fell short of the mark. He desired something greater. He wanted more.
He'd dream, but his dreams would let him down. They weren't fantastic enough. Wonder was always out-of-reach. He craved for real dreams. Dreams which would come true. He wanted more.
So one day the boy decided to do something about his recurring dissatisfaction. He put on his favourite football shirt, slipped into his pocket the lucky charm his late grandad had told him to treasure, firmly fixed his baseball cap to his head, and marched out the front door in pursuit of 'more'.
It was a typical September day. Dark broken clouds and the pristine blue beyond were fighting for dominance.
The boy held onto his cap and ran, as he always did, towards the forest of tall trees which lay beyond the lake. But this time, as his pounding feet approached the shoreline, he didn't stop. He kept on running. He wanted more.
With a roar of innocent defiance he sprinted at the water. "More!" he cried as his feet sploshed in the deepening wetness. Doubt flickered then was destroyed. With a flash of unnatural light he was away: tip-toeing at speed across the choppy surface of the lake. He was running-on-water. On a normal September day a miracle began to unfold. With uncontrollable laughter bellowing from his lungs, he ran and ran. Faster. Freer. "More! More!" he yelled.
A hundred or so yards out, the heavens opened and the rain came down, and at the same time the sun broke through a heavenly gash in the clouds creating a glorious rainbow, one end of which dived into the glittering water just ahead of him. The boy sprinted towards it. He wanted more.
In a seamless transition his tireless feet moved onto the multi-coloured arc. "I am!" he screamed, barely able to see through the tears streaming from his eyes, "I am a climber of rainbows!"
As he neared the apex of the rainbow's curve, he spontaneously readied himself to jump. With a burst of speed he leapt, landed, sprung and took off. The boy was flying.
Higher and higher he soared, awestruck by the view below him. The wind currents carried his little body for miles. He passed over forests and villages, towns and cities. His normality had become magical. His dreams had become real. For hours he flew, lost in a transhuman wave of aimless ambition.
As the sun slowly drowned in the western mists, he stopped. Finally his exhileration had turned to exhaustion. Standing motionless above the clouds, he closed his eyes. "Thank you" he whispered, cupping his hands as if praying.
The boy who wanted more had found it.
There he was, standing on the sky, the most magical boy in the world; and as the stars awoke one by one all around him, he fell into a deep sleep. And he dreamed - of things he'd never seen before - of things he didn't have words to describe. His lucid dreaming was total. He touched the unimaginable. He captured the fantastic.
Yet amid the wonder of his inner visions he awoke and coldly opened his eyes.
Suddenly he began to fall through the clouds at great speed towards the groundscape constellations below.
"I want more" he whispered.
When his fagile body eventually smashed into the cold earth of a nameless hill, death came to him like the end of a war, the rediscovery of peace, and the dawn of a secret becoming
He'd climb trees, but when he reached the topmost branches, he was always disappointed that he had to stop. He wanted to go on climbing. Higher and further. He wanted more.
He'd listen to music, but the melodies didn't quite go where he wanted them to. He could always hear in his own mind something better. Something more epic. Something more beautiful. He wanted more.
He'd read stories, but they never were as good as he'd imagined. He could always think of stronger plots and more intriguing characters. Every tale fell short of the mark. He desired something greater. He wanted more.
He'd dream, but his dreams would let him down. They weren't fantastic enough. Wonder was always out-of-reach. He craved for real dreams. Dreams which would come true. He wanted more.
So one day the boy decided to do something about his recurring dissatisfaction. He put on his favourite football shirt, slipped into his pocket the lucky charm his late grandad had told him to treasure, firmly fixed his baseball cap to his head, and marched out the front door in pursuit of 'more'.
It was a typical September day. Dark broken clouds and the pristine blue beyond were fighting for dominance.
The boy held onto his cap and ran, as he always did, towards the forest of tall trees which lay beyond the lake. But this time, as his pounding feet approached the shoreline, he didn't stop. He kept on running. He wanted more.
With a roar of innocent defiance he sprinted at the water. "More!" he cried as his feet sploshed in the deepening wetness. Doubt flickered then was destroyed. With a flash of unnatural light he was away: tip-toeing at speed across the choppy surface of the lake. He was running-on-water. On a normal September day a miracle began to unfold. With uncontrollable laughter bellowing from his lungs, he ran and ran. Faster. Freer. "More! More!" he yelled.
A hundred or so yards out, the heavens opened and the rain came down, and at the same time the sun broke through a heavenly gash in the clouds creating a glorious rainbow, one end of which dived into the glittering water just ahead of him. The boy sprinted towards it. He wanted more.
In a seamless transition his tireless feet moved onto the multi-coloured arc. "I am!" he screamed, barely able to see through the tears streaming from his eyes, "I am a climber of rainbows!"
As he neared the apex of the rainbow's curve, he spontaneously readied himself to jump. With a burst of speed he leapt, landed, sprung and took off. The boy was flying.
Higher and higher he soared, awestruck by the view below him. The wind currents carried his little body for miles. He passed over forests and villages, towns and cities. His normality had become magical. His dreams had become real. For hours he flew, lost in a transhuman wave of aimless ambition.
As the sun slowly drowned in the western mists, he stopped. Finally his exhileration had turned to exhaustion. Standing motionless above the clouds, he closed his eyes. "Thank you" he whispered, cupping his hands as if praying.
The boy who wanted more had found it.
There he was, standing on the sky, the most magical boy in the world; and as the stars awoke one by one all around him, he fell into a deep sleep. And he dreamed - of things he'd never seen before - of things he didn't have words to describe. His lucid dreaming was total. He touched the unimaginable. He captured the fantastic.
Yet amid the wonder of his inner visions he awoke and coldly opened his eyes.
Suddenly he began to fall through the clouds at great speed towards the groundscape constellations below.
"I want more" he whispered.
When his fagile body eventually smashed into the cold earth of a nameless hill, death came to him like the end of a war, the rediscovery of peace, and the dawn of a secret becoming
Ta. This story was my attempt at writing a modern-day fairytale.... kind of worked???
Hey I liked that. Made me feel all... tingly.
GET OUT!
I was stoned when I read your story and I must admit my imagination flew away with your words.
no problemo
Well I suppose I could say that if someone is never satisfied and they always want more and more, then such an attitude will ultimately lead to self-destruction. *Too much is never enough*
But there was no intentional 'deeper meaning'. Thanks for the comments.
But there was no intentional 'deeper meaning'. Thanks for the comments.
Me too...I was pleasently surprised with it actually - it was nothing like ive read before. You have a great gift with description i love to read such great description i can build it up in my head and see it. It seemed deeper than what met the eye...did it have a deeper meaning or am i pushing it? good though.
Thanks for the honesty. I wasn't too sure about it either. Thought I'd try something different, something more fairytale.
The one I wrote for the Meka's comp IS dark, but it's also quite short - didn't take me long to write.
I've got some seriously dark little stories in the pipeline. I shall return.
The one I wrote for the Meka's comp IS dark, but it's also quite short - didn't take me long to write.
I've got some seriously dark little stories in the pipeline. I shall return.
Ummm - to be honest not quite sure what to make of this. I was happily meandering through the story wondering what the cost was going to be and while I expected death it just seemed a little tame.
You were building up a reputation for being dark and scary - have you been sitting in the sunshine? You know it's not good.
However, how you managed to find time to write this as well as the one for the comp, heavens only knows :)
You were building up a reputation for being dark and scary - have you been sitting in the sunshine? You know it's not good.
However, how you managed to find time to write this as well as the one for the comp, heavens only knows :)
There once was a boy who wanted more.
He'd climb trees, but when he reached the topmost branches, he was always disappointed that he had to stop. He wanted to go on climbing. Higher and further. He wanted more.
He'd listen to music, but the melodies didn't quite go where he wanted them to. He could always hear in his own mind something better. Something more epic. Something more beautiful. He wanted more.
He'd read stories, but they never were as good as he'd imagined. He could always think of stronger plots and more intriguing characters. Every tale fell short of the mark. He desired something greater. He wanted more.
He'd dream, but his dreams would let him down. They weren't fantastic enough. Wonder was always out-of-reach. He craved for real dreams. Dreams which would come true. He wanted more.
So one day the boy decided to do something about his recurring dissatisfaction. He put on his favourite football shirt, slipped into his pocket the lucky charm his late grandad had told him to treasure, firmly fixed his baseball cap to his head, and marched out the front door in pursuit of 'more'.
It was a typical September day. Dark broken clouds and the pristine blue beyond were fighting for dominance.
The boy held onto his cap and ran, as he always did, towards the forest of tall trees which lay beyond the lake. But this time, as his pounding feet approached the shoreline, he didn't stop. He kept on running. He wanted more.
With a roar of innocent defiance he sprinted at the water. "More!" he cried as his feet sploshed in the deepening wetness. Doubt flickered then was destroyed. With a flash of unnatural light he was away: tip-toeing at speed across the choppy surface of the lake. He was running-on-water. On a normal September day a miracle began to unfold. With uncontrollable laughter bellowing from his lungs, he ran and ran. Faster. Freer. "More! More!" he yelled.
A hundred or so yards out, the heavens opened and the rain came down, and at the same time the sun broke through a heavenly gash in the clouds creating a glorious rainbow, one end of which dived into the glittering water just ahead of him. The boy sprinted towards it. He wanted more.
In a seamless transition his tireless feet moved onto the multi-coloured arc. "I am!" he screamed, barely able to see through the tears streaming from his eyes, "I am a climber of rainbows!"
As he neared the apex of the rainbow's curve, he spontaneously readied himself to jump. With a burst of speed he leapt, landed, sprung and took off. The boy was flying.
Higher and higher he soared, awestruck by the view below him. The wind currents carried his little body for miles. He passed over forests and villages, towns and cities. His normality had become magical. His dreams had become real. For hours he flew, lost in a transhuman wave of aimless ambition.
As the sun slowly drowned in the western mists, he stopped. Finally his exhileration had turned to exhaustion. Standing motionless above the clouds, he closed his eyes. "Thank you" he whispered, cupping his hands as if praying.
The boy who wanted more had found it.
There he was, standing on the sky, the most magical boy in the world; and as the stars awoke one by one all around him, he fell into a deep sleep. And he dreamed - of things he'd never seen before - of things he didn't have words to describe. His lucid dreaming was total. He touched the unimaginable. He captured the fantastic.
Yet amid the wonder of his inner visions he awoke and coldly opened his eyes.
Suddenly he began to fall through the clouds at great speed towards the groundscape constellations below.
"I want more" he whispered.
When his fagile body eventually smashed into the cold earth of a nameless hill, death came to him like the end of a war, the rediscovery of peace, and the dawn of a secret becoming
He'd climb trees, but when he reached the topmost branches, he was always disappointed that he had to stop. He wanted to go on climbing. Higher and further. He wanted more.
He'd listen to music, but the melodies didn't quite go where he wanted them to. He could always hear in his own mind something better. Something more epic. Something more beautiful. He wanted more.
He'd read stories, but they never were as good as he'd imagined. He could always think of stronger plots and more intriguing characters. Every tale fell short of the mark. He desired something greater. He wanted more.
He'd dream, but his dreams would let him down. They weren't fantastic enough. Wonder was always out-of-reach. He craved for real dreams. Dreams which would come true. He wanted more.
So one day the boy decided to do something about his recurring dissatisfaction. He put on his favourite football shirt, slipped into his pocket the lucky charm his late grandad had told him to treasure, firmly fixed his baseball cap to his head, and marched out the front door in pursuit of 'more'.
It was a typical September day. Dark broken clouds and the pristine blue beyond were fighting for dominance.
The boy held onto his cap and ran, as he always did, towards the forest of tall trees which lay beyond the lake. But this time, as his pounding feet approached the shoreline, he didn't stop. He kept on running. He wanted more.
With a roar of innocent defiance he sprinted at the water. "More!" he cried as his feet sploshed in the deepening wetness. Doubt flickered then was destroyed. With a flash of unnatural light he was away: tip-toeing at speed across the choppy surface of the lake. He was running-on-water. On a normal September day a miracle began to unfold. With uncontrollable laughter bellowing from his lungs, he ran and ran. Faster. Freer. "More! More!" he yelled.
A hundred or so yards out, the heavens opened and the rain came down, and at the same time the sun broke through a heavenly gash in the clouds creating a glorious rainbow, one end of which dived into the glittering water just ahead of him. The boy sprinted towards it. He wanted more.
In a seamless transition his tireless feet moved onto the multi-coloured arc. "I am!" he screamed, barely able to see through the tears streaming from his eyes, "I am a climber of rainbows!"
As he neared the apex of the rainbow's curve, he spontaneously readied himself to jump. With a burst of speed he leapt, landed, sprung and took off. The boy was flying.
Higher and higher he soared, awestruck by the view below him. The wind currents carried his little body for miles. He passed over forests and villages, towns and cities. His normality had become magical. His dreams had become real. For hours he flew, lost in a transhuman wave of aimless ambition.
As the sun slowly drowned in the western mists, he stopped. Finally his exhileration had turned to exhaustion. Standing motionless above the clouds, he closed his eyes. "Thank you" he whispered, cupping his hands as if praying.
The boy who wanted more had found it.
There he was, standing on the sky, the most magical boy in the world; and as the stars awoke one by one all around him, he fell into a deep sleep. And he dreamed - of things he'd never seen before - of things he didn't have words to describe. His lucid dreaming was total. He touched the unimaginable. He captured the fantastic.
Yet amid the wonder of his inner visions he awoke and coldly opened his eyes.
Suddenly he began to fall through the clouds at great speed towards the groundscape constellations below.
"I want more" he whispered.
When his fagile body eventually smashed into the cold earth of a nameless hill, death came to him like the end of a war, the rediscovery of peace, and the dawn of a secret becoming