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Memorandum wrote:
> I was bored, so I made my first ever attempt at a short story. It's
> about as original as the invention of triangles, but read it anyway,
> if you want. Enjoy.
>
> ------------
>
> The door of the house hung open, the stench of death filling the air.
> From deep within the house came noises, dull thuds, and groans.
> Walking deeper into her home, nervously, Natalie began to cry. The
> tears welled up in the corner of her eyes, but she mustn’t cry, she
> thought. There was no worse thing she could do than make noise, as
> she undoubtedly would if she allowed the tears to flow.
>
> The stench grew thicker as she continued down the long hallway,
> heading towards the kitchen. The thuds continued, still in the
> distance somewhat, but the groans became quieter and less frequent.
> There was no way she could know who it was, or what they wanted, but
> she’d come this far now, so decided to continue, following her ears.
>
> Passing through the kitchen, she discovered little. There was a small
> droplet of blood on the workbench, but that could have come from
> anything; “someone cut themselves chopping carrots”, she tried to
> reassure herself, “yes, that’s it, they were preparing dinner and hit
> their finger”.
>
> She tried to exit the kitchen, to go into yet another hallway, on her
> journey to the main bedroom, which she suspected was where the sounds
> were coming from. The door, however, was jammed; there was something
> on the other side. It was obviously quite heavy, and she struggled to
> push the door open. Whatever it was, it stunk. Finally she forced
> the door open, and whatever was blocking it was pushed behind it,
> against the wall. The smell put her off looking behind the door to
> see what it was. It was better this way.
>
> The thuds had stopped. The groans had stopped.
>
> The house was eerily silent. She stepped ever so carefully towards
> the door at the end of the hallway, trying to avoid making any
> sound.
>
> As she reached for the handle the door suddenly swung back. A darkly
> clothed figure stood in front of her. She jumped back, falling in the
> process. At first she lost all recognition of what was going on, out
> of fear, but she managed to regain her composure and stand up again.
> The figure hadn’t moved. He just stared at her.
>
> Immediately she recognised him, it was her next-door neighbour, Barry.
> Barry had always seemed a strange man, quite eccentric, but he
> usually kept himself to himself, and never bothered anyone with his
> slightly odd character traits.
>
> There were a few groans from deeper in the room, and then heavy,
> slamming footsteps. Natalie’s husband stepped out behind Barry, and
> Barry moved aside to let her see him.
>
> He struggled to move forwards, his T-shirt was ripped, with blood
> stains all over it, one of his arms hung loosely, obviously broken
> quite badly. His eyes were horribly bloodshot, and bulging.
>
> As he tried to lurch forward towards his wife, Barry stepped out once
> more, and hit him on the back of the head with a rather heavy looking
> iron bar. A disgusting thud rung out throughout the house as the bar
> made contact, much worse than any of the sounds Natalie had heard
> before.
>
> Barry tilted his head, and spoke for the first time. “I had to do it.
> He was a bad man. You shouldn’t have come back. You weren’t meant
> to know. I can’t leave you her now, I can’t let you tell anyone.”
>
> Barry walked towards her slowly, and Natalie began to run, back to
> that jammed door. She saw what was behind it. It was a body, it was
> her gardener. There was no telling who else Barry had killed, she had
> to get away.
>
> She looked around, and couldn’t see anyone, it didn’t really matter,
> and she HAD to get out.
>
> Natalie encountered no problems in getting to the front door of the
> house. She stepped out. Freedom. She could go to the police
> station; she could get Barry sent to jail, or better, executed.
>
> As she breathed a sigh of relief and headed off the doorstep to her
> car, the iron bar dropped forcefully onto her head, and she fell to
> the ground, lifelessly.
,
> I was bored, so I made my first ever attempt at a short story. It's
> about as original as the invention of triangles, but read it anyway,
> if you want. Enjoy.
>
> ------------
>
> The door of the house hung open, the stench of death filling the air.
> From deep within the house came noises, dull thuds, and groans.
> Walking deeper into her home, nervously, Natalie began to cry. The
> tears welled up in the corner of her eyes, but she mustn’t cry, she
> thought. There was no worse thing she could do than make noise, as
> she undoubtedly would if she allowed the tears to flow.
>
> The stench grew thicker as she continued down the long hallway,
> heading towards the kitchen. The thuds continued, still in the
> distance somewhat, but the groans became quieter and less frequent.
> There was no way she could know who it was, or what they wanted, but
> she’d come this far now, so decided to continue, following her ears.
>
> Passing through the kitchen, she discovered little. There was a small
> droplet of blood on the workbench, but that could have come from
> anything; “someone cut themselves chopping carrots”, she tried to
> reassure herself, “yes, that’s it, they were preparing dinner and hit
> their finger”.
>
> She tried to exit the kitchen, to go into yet another hallway, on her
> journey to the main bedroom, which she suspected was where the sounds
> were coming from. The door, however, was jammed; there was something
> on the other side. It was obviously quite heavy, and she struggled to
> push the door open. Whatever it was, it stunk. Finally she forced
> the door open, and whatever was blocking it was pushed behind it,
> against the wall. The smell put her off looking behind the door to
> see what it was. It was better this way.
>
> The thuds had stopped. The groans had stopped.
>
> The house was eerily silent. She stepped ever so carefully towards
> the door at the end of the hallway, trying to avoid making any
> sound.
>
> As she reached for the handle the door suddenly swung back. A darkly
> clothed figure stood in front of her. She jumped back, falling in the
> process. At first she lost all recognition of what was going on, out
> of fear, but she managed to regain her composure and stand up again.
> The figure hadn’t moved. He just stared at her.
>
> Immediately she recognised him, it was her next-door neighbour, Barry.
> Barry had always seemed a strange man, quite eccentric, but he
> usually kept himself to himself, and never bothered anyone with his
> slightly odd character traits.
>
> There were a few groans from deeper in the room, and then heavy,
> slamming footsteps. Natalie’s husband stepped out behind Barry, and
> Barry moved aside to let her see him.
>
> He struggled to move forwards, his T-shirt was ripped, with blood
> stains all over it, one of his arms hung loosely, obviously broken
> quite badly. His eyes were horribly bloodshot, and bulging.
>
> As he tried to lurch forward towards his wife, Barry stepped out once
> more, and hit him on the back of the head with a rather heavy looking
> iron bar. A disgusting thud rung out throughout the house as the bar
> made contact, much worse than any of the sounds Natalie had heard
> before.
>
> Barry tilted his head, and spoke for the first time. “I had to do it.
> He was a bad man. You shouldn’t have come back. You weren’t meant
> to know. I can’t leave you her now, I can’t let you tell anyone.”
>
> Barry walked towards her slowly, and Natalie began to run, back to
> that jammed door. She saw what was behind it. It was a body, it was
> her gardener. There was no telling who else Barry had killed, she had
> to get away.
>
> She looked around, and couldn’t see anyone, it didn’t really matter,
> and she HAD to get out.
>
> Natalie encountered no problems in getting to the front door of the
> house. She stepped out. Freedom. She could go to the police
> station; she could get Barry sent to jail, or better, executed.
>
> As she breathed a sigh of relief and headed off the doorstep to her
> car, the iron bar dropped forcefully onto her head, and she fell to
> the ground, lifelessly.
,
I'm no expert, but from what I can gather the best short stories have a little unexpected twist in them or a strange/unusual thought at the end that rounds things off and makes you think or takes you by surprise. It is hard to achieve.
I thank you for your kind comments.
Black Glove wrote:
> Nicely written. Good start, but the lack of some sort of twist means
> it faded a little towards the end.
Yeah, I've read over it again and I see what you mean. It becomes too predicatable. Maybe I should have gone for a cheesy 'it was all a dream' approach, or that in the finish up the sounds were coming from the TV.
Actually, I should have done that. It would have made the whole thing so sad and annoying that it finished up that way.
Black Glove wrote:
> Nicely written. Good start, but the lack of some sort of twist means
> it faded a little towards the end.
Yeah, I've read over it again and I see what you mean. It becomes too predicatable. Maybe I should have gone for a cheesy 'it was all a dream' approach, or that in the finish up the sounds were coming from the TV.
Actually, I should have done that. It would have made the whole thing so sad and annoying that it finished up that way.
Enjoyable.
Memorandum wrote:
> I was bored, so I made my first ever attempt at a short story. It's
> about as original as the invention of triangles, but read it anyway,
> if you want. Enjoy.
>
> ------------
>
> The door of the house hung open, the stench of death filling the air.
> From deep within the house came noises, dull thuds, and groans.
> Walking deeper into her home, nervously, Natalie began to cry. The
> tears welled up in the corner of her eyes, but she mustn’t cry, she
> thought. There was no worse thing she could do than make noise, as
> she undoubtedly would if she allowed the tears to flow.
>
> The stench grew thicker as she continued down the long hallway,
> heading towards the kitchen. The thuds continued, still in the
> distance somewhat, but the groans became quieter and less frequent.
> There was no way she could know who it was, or what they wanted, but
> she’d come this far now, so decided to continue, following her ears.
>
> Passing through the kitchen, she discovered little. There was a small
> droplet of blood on the workbench, but that could have come from
> anything; “someone cut themselves chopping carrots”, she tried to
> reassure herself, “yes, that’s it, they were preparing dinner and hit
> their finger”.
>
> She tried to exit the kitchen, to go into yet another hallway, on her
> journey to the main bedroom, which she suspected was where the sounds
> were coming from. The door, however, was jammed; there was something
> on the other side. It was obviously quite heavy, and she struggled to
> push the door open. Whatever it was, it stunk. Finally she forced
> the door open, and whatever was blocking it was pushed behind it,
> against the wall. The smell put her off looking behind the door to
> see what it was. It was better this way.
>
> The thuds had stopped. The groans had stopped.
>
> The house was eerily silent. She stepped ever so carefully towards
> the door at the end of the hallway, trying to avoid making any
> sound.
>
> As she reached for the handle the door suddenly swung back. A darkly
> clothed figure stood in front of her. She jumped back, falling in the
> process. At first she lost all recognition of what was going on, out
> of fear, but she managed to regain her composure and stand up again.
> The figure hadn’t moved. He just stared at her.
>
> Immediately she recognised him, it was her next-door neighbour, Barry.
> Barry had always seemed a strange man, quite eccentric, but he
> usually kept himself to himself, and never bothered anyone with his
> slightly odd character traits.
>
> There were a few groans from deeper in the room, and then heavy,
> slamming footsteps. Natalie’s husband stepped out behind Barry, and
> Barry moved aside to let her see him.
>
> He struggled to move forwards, his T-shirt was ripped, with blood
> stains all over it, one of his arms hung loosely, obviously broken
> quite badly. His eyes were horribly bloodshot, and bulging.
>
> As he tried to lurch forward towards his wife, Barry stepped out once
> more, and hit him on the back of the head with a rather heavy looking
> iron bar. A disgusting thud rung out throughout the house as the bar
> made contact, much worse than any of the sounds Natalie had heard
> before.
>
> Barry tilted his head, and spoke for the first time. “I had to do it.
> He was a bad man. You shouldn’t have come back. You weren’t meant
> to know. I can’t leave you her now, I can’t let you tell anyone.”
>
> Barry walked towards her slowly, and Natalie began to run, back to
> that jammed door. She saw what was behind it. It was a body, it was
> her gardener. There was no telling who else Barry had killed, she had
> to get away.
>
> She looked around, and couldn’t see anyone, it didn’t really matter,
> and she HAD to get out.
>
> Natalie encountered no problems in getting to the front door of the
> house. She stepped out. Freedom. She could go to the police
> station; she could get Barry sent to jail, or better, executed.
>
> As she breathed a sigh of relief and headed off the doorstep to her
> car, the iron bar dropped forcefully onto her head, and she fell to
> the ground, lifelessly.
,
> I was bored, so I made my first ever attempt at a short story. It's
> about as original as the invention of triangles, but read it anyway,
> if you want. Enjoy.
>
> ------------
>
> The door of the house hung open, the stench of death filling the air.
> From deep within the house came noises, dull thuds, and groans.
> Walking deeper into her home, nervously, Natalie began to cry. The
> tears welled up in the corner of her eyes, but she mustn’t cry, she
> thought. There was no worse thing she could do than make noise, as
> she undoubtedly would if she allowed the tears to flow.
>
> The stench grew thicker as she continued down the long hallway,
> heading towards the kitchen. The thuds continued, still in the
> distance somewhat, but the groans became quieter and less frequent.
> There was no way she could know who it was, or what they wanted, but
> she’d come this far now, so decided to continue, following her ears.
>
> Passing through the kitchen, she discovered little. There was a small
> droplet of blood on the workbench, but that could have come from
> anything; “someone cut themselves chopping carrots”, she tried to
> reassure herself, “yes, that’s it, they were preparing dinner and hit
> their finger”.
>
> She tried to exit the kitchen, to go into yet another hallway, on her
> journey to the main bedroom, which she suspected was where the sounds
> were coming from. The door, however, was jammed; there was something
> on the other side. It was obviously quite heavy, and she struggled to
> push the door open. Whatever it was, it stunk. Finally she forced
> the door open, and whatever was blocking it was pushed behind it,
> against the wall. The smell put her off looking behind the door to
> see what it was. It was better this way.
>
> The thuds had stopped. The groans had stopped.
>
> The house was eerily silent. She stepped ever so carefully towards
> the door at the end of the hallway, trying to avoid making any
> sound.
>
> As she reached for the handle the door suddenly swung back. A darkly
> clothed figure stood in front of her. She jumped back, falling in the
> process. At first she lost all recognition of what was going on, out
> of fear, but she managed to regain her composure and stand up again.
> The figure hadn’t moved. He just stared at her.
>
> Immediately she recognised him, it was her next-door neighbour, Barry.
> Barry had always seemed a strange man, quite eccentric, but he
> usually kept himself to himself, and never bothered anyone with his
> slightly odd character traits.
>
> There were a few groans from deeper in the room, and then heavy,
> slamming footsteps. Natalie’s husband stepped out behind Barry, and
> Barry moved aside to let her see him.
>
> He struggled to move forwards, his T-shirt was ripped, with blood
> stains all over it, one of his arms hung loosely, obviously broken
> quite badly. His eyes were horribly bloodshot, and bulging.
>
> As he tried to lurch forward towards his wife, Barry stepped out once
> more, and hit him on the back of the head with a rather heavy looking
> iron bar. A disgusting thud rung out throughout the house as the bar
> made contact, much worse than any of the sounds Natalie had heard
> before.
>
> Barry tilted his head, and spoke for the first time. “I had to do it.
> He was a bad man. You shouldn’t have come back. You weren’t meant
> to know. I can’t leave you her now, I can’t let you tell anyone.”
>
> Barry walked towards her slowly, and Natalie began to run, back to
> that jammed door. She saw what was behind it. It was a body, it was
> her gardener. There was no telling who else Barry had killed, she had
> to get away.
>
> She looked around, and couldn’t see anyone, it didn’t really matter,
> and she HAD to get out.
>
> Natalie encountered no problems in getting to the front door of the
> house. She stepped out. Freedom. She could go to the police
> station; she could get Barry sent to jail, or better, executed.
>
> As she breathed a sigh of relief and headed off the doorstep to her
> car, the iron bar dropped forcefully onto her head, and she fell to
> the ground, lifelessly.
,