Story 5 – The Shell

This is a short story that I wrote a while ago. Enjoy, and please comment!

I opened my eyes. In front of me was a great long stretch of beach with pure white sand. It stretched out endlessly before me, showing me the way but not telling me what lies at the end. Just like when you open a book and get a general idea of the plot but don’t know how it will end.

The sun was slowly sinking into the grasps of the deep blue ocean filled with unknown creatures and plants. Now, the agents of the night were asserting their control over the chirping birds and bright blue sky of the day. Everything was black. I could not see except for the light of the moon. It glowed, showing me the way as I walked along the beach.

I was in Koh Samui, Thailand, a popular tourist destination. So there were still some peddlers wandering aimlessly around the beach, trying to get other people to change their life.

“Box of shells – two dalla!” One called out in broken English.

With nothing better to do, I approached the peddler.

He grinned when he saw me, his brown eyes bulging. “Hello, miss! Box of shells only two dalla!”

My hands reached out to grasp the box. I peered inside. Brown and pink shells filled the box only halfway.

“Where’s the other half?”

The peddler didn’t understand me. As if his other half had disappeared in another lifetime.

I reexamined the shells. None of them were a pure white color, like the color of the sand. All of them had, in one way or another, been touched, tainted, grasped. Somehow the sand was still pure, even after everyone had walked all over it during the day.

At night there was a serene quality blanketing the beach. A glowing white sheet covering up what had been tainted.

“No,” I heard myself say out loud.

The peddler instantly became desperate. “Miss, this very good deal! Whole box only two dalla!”

I smiled and walked away, following my own footsteps down the shoreline.

Suddenly, my toe closed on a small object. I raised it up to the moonlight. It glowed and radiated light across the whole expanse of the beach.

It was a shell.

White.

Pure.

Mine.

-writersblock55

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Story 4 – Glistening Tails

This is an extremely short story that I wrote this summer. Some people have told me that it was incomprehensible to them, and that was partly my intention. Please leave a comment whether you liked it or not (I enjoy constructive criticism and am always looking for ways to improve my writing). Thank you!

A school of fish swam by her, their tails glistening amid the muddy water, not stopping for anything or anyone.

Why am I here? And how did I get here? She thought, idly lifting up a rock next to her that moved under her gentle touch.

The rock began to walk. Slowly at first, and then it picked up its pace with each languid step. She noticed that it had legs, and that it wasn’t the color of a normal rock – it was a shade of deep purple.

Well, that’s strange, the girl thought, gazing at the rock as it disappeared into the distance, digging her feet into the cold sand of the lake.

A small voice at the back of her head told her that the rock had another name, and just a few hours ago, she would have been able to remember it. She would have been able to do more than just remember the common name for the rock – she would have remembered her own name and her life before this moment.

But in one moment of impact, the course of her life changed forever. Perhaps in another universe, her parents were searching endlessly for her, screaming her name with increasing urgency. And even if they were looking for her, she didn’t know who they were, and wouldn’t believe them if they told her. So she simply stared at another school of fish, wondering what her identity was. As the motions of life carried on, hers seemed to freeze like in a stop-motion film.

Something squirmed under her grip. She thought it was the rock at first – the rock that isn’t commonly called a rock – but it had eyes that she thought resembled her own.

How did I end up with a baby? She asked the fish. When she received no reply, she yelled at the fish to respond, and when she had no success with that, she turned her head down and quietly wept into her worn, mangled shirt.

When the baby heard her crying, she suddenly burst out in tears, bursting with what seemed to be the same amount of tears as the water in the lake. Inwardly, she knew that she should try to do something, anything, to calm the baby, but she couldn’t think of being in any other place but right next to the lake, because all she remembered was waking up right in the same spot that she was currently sitting in.

She enjoyed looking at the fish. They were the only beings alive that seemed to have a purpose in life, and they were always on the move.

Maybe that’s what I need to do, she thought to no one in particular. The baby, as if comprehending what she was saying, ceased crying.

So she rose up, off the sandy beach, and walked along the shoreline of the lake. She saw another passerby on the beach and asked, “Where am I?”

If there was a response, she didn’t hear it because she was too busy gazing at her own reflection, which gazed back at her with an otherworldly glimmer.

Suddenly her entire past came flashing back to her, as if it had never left, and she finally felt complete again. She knew what she needed to do, and carrying her baby in her arms, she set off.

-writersblock55

Book Review 6 – A Visit from the Goon Squad by Jennifer Egan

This is a bit of a late review, seeing as I actually read this book in early August, but better late than never 🙂

Although I’ve said mostly positive things about the other books that I’ve reviewed, this book was not my favorite. I had high hopes and expectations for it that mostly got let down (with a few exceptions).

A Visit From the Goon Squad focuses on the lives of Bennie Salzar, and aging former punk rocker and his record label business, and Sasha, his young assistant. The two are different from each other in multiple respects and I did enjoy how Egan alternated between their perspectives. The reader got to know both character’s backstories, even though the Sasha and Bennie never truly got to know each other’s backstories.

The one aspect of the book that is causing me to give it a slightly negative review (with a positive flair, of course, see above) is that the characters confused me. I’m not going to get into all the details, but the characters that surrounded the lives of Sasha and Bennie were unclear, as their relationship to the two main characters was unclear. Instead of narrating the story from Sasha’s and Bennie’s perspectives throughout the entire novel, Egan chose to narrate it through other characters who encountered Sasha and Bennie — which would have been fine, but since I had no idea who they were, this just made the novel more confusing to read.

I did enjoy the chapter written entirely in powerpoint format – it was a refreshing change.

All in all, this book was alright, not terrible, but it did have its flaws in respect to characters and plot.

-writersblock55

Rate my Teen Ink Poem – “Light”

Rate my Teen Ink Poem – “Light”

Hello everyone,

I recently posted a free-verse poem called “Light” to Teen Ink and would really appreciate if you all rated it because higher ratings increase my chances of getting published in their magazine 🙂 Please click on the link above to rate it!

Thank you for your continued support on my journey.

-writersblock55

Poem 8 – San Francisco

Sorry that I’ve been inactive lately. My school just started so I’ve been busy, but I will try and post as often as I can.

This is not just one poem but a trio of haikus written in San Francisco, about San Francisco. I had the chance to visit the beautiful city this summer, which was the home of a thriving group of literary critics who each had their own unique voices, called the Beats. All three of the haikus were inspired by what I did during my stay in the city.

Enjoy, and please comment!

Quaint streets and Beat haunts

Chinatown knockoffs pasta

Green grass park at dusk

Mist enveloping

Golden Gate Bridge; cable cars

Dancing up and down the streets

Swirls of foggy air

Cindy Sherman exhibit

Graffiti rooftops

-writersblock55