My short stories : practice


Hi there.

I am currently trying to improve my writing skills. Henceforth, I am going to write a short story per day (about 500 words or less). I’ve said short stories but it could be an article, a letter, that will not ever be a fiction.

Actually I’m looking for some topics to write about and I just write thinking only in English, and not translating what I want to from french to english. I try to use words that I seldom use to get used to them, sometimes without knowing if they really work. I don’t use any translator or vocabulary book, I simply keep writing. Each day, I will write on this thread to show you my production. Feel free to give me advices, tell me if there is a huge mistake or anything. Then, here my first attempt and the subject that I found in a textbook. Thanks for reading.

  1. Imagine you can travel back to the past. Write a story describing your arrival.

The technology impact

 I took the key and left my house. I went at the place where I had put my machine that will make me visit the past. It was exactly 9 pm, I was impatient but also not very quiet. Actually the cold of the night has turned into my head in fear. Fear filled my whole body, I began to shake while switching on the machine. Lights that were emitted by the buttons ran all around me. I adjusted some settings, then a flash as pure as an angel exploded. The light was so intense that I thought I was dead. Dead to the world, what a bad ending. No, I was not ! I was alive and when I opened my eyes, I was surrounded by a new whole universe. I was so excited that I almost forgot the camera I have taken in order to show the world that it was really possible. From now on it would no longer be the same, there were not only one world but plenty of them that were just waiting for our visit. And I was obviously the first. I looked around and noticed that all was utterly silent, not even a sound.
 I decided to walk through a woodland in front of me. It looked like a dream with no sound but full of coulour and with an odd smell which was terribly magic. I could not distinguish this odour but I could feel that it announced something bad. Where was I ? It appears to me that the time and the space were both dislocated as if they lived in each other’s mind. It should not have been like this. However I knew that this was only the beginning, of course it was not perfect but I just had to change some setting to fix it.
 Well, I was not really interested in this strange world thus the gloomy atmosphere made me go back to my machine. I kept thinking in order not to be submerged by the fear which was continuously growing inside me. I walked among the forest for a lengthy time again and again until I finally realized that the forest was endless. At a moment I hit something and fell. When I turn back a mirror was standing in front of me. It was a strange mirror which was covered with a dark red blood. I walked very carefully staring at it, the mirror was so deep that I can see no reflect. Then I stopped my feet and rose my head toward the sky. I could see nothing. All was black. I tried to scream but no sound come. I felt very nervous. The air missed me, I could not breath as I wanted to. I was now breathless, my blood turned cold and I fell on the ground. Whereas I was not able to move I could still feel a little, just enough to see that the earth was eating me.

I was now part of this world, literally.

Less than 400 words. I haven’t wrote yesterday so here’s my daily writing.

Second short story : The Italian Dream

 I remember that I was excited, it was the very first time I came in Italy. I was on my way to see all those beautiful things such as cars, beaches and girls. I stopped for a night in Turin. I was pleased to sleep there because I knew the next day will also be a quite boring day, I could finally relax myself watching the television. I ate some mortadella and went to bed. This was day one and I only thought about what was going to happen.
 I hoped that I could currently be in Roma. Then I was. These three days were very intense, I walked all day to visit a lot of monuments. Of course I stopped to eat, pastas, pizzas, gelati...The culture, including the food is the reason I so love Italy. I got a memory : the Sistine Chapel in the Vatican City, it was so wide that my legs walked by themselves. Here's one example of the power of Italy. Soon after, I was relaxing like a thousand of people in front of the "Fontana di Trevi" which was really somptuous. I also walked through lots of "piazzas" like the Navona's one where a plethora of artists were performing. There were dancers, drawers and even some marionettists. I definitely appreciated this ambiance of joy and happiness, the summer was at just at its very beginning.
 After these great three days, I moved to the South where I was waited by some cousins. A feeling of hysteria grew among us when I arrived, in both parts. There were so many things to say. It was very warm and this had not changed during the two weeks I were here. I can't tell you all my story because I don't have so much time but I can tell you that what I mostly enjoyed were speaking in Italian and eating traditional specialities like "panzerotti" (there were so creamy, yum !). Actually my uncle had a pizzeria so he was able to give me some fine elements of what I should taste and he gave me so, of course. I also visited great places there that I was so glad to see. I liked the lifestyle, I could live in all my life. Obviously I will ever keep memories of these perfect days.

These were holidays !

Добрый день. (I write in Russian, because I just started to learn English)
Мне было интересно читать Ваши истории.
Читая первую историю, я представила себя в самом центре событий, всё было так реально, что даже мурашки побежали по коже.
А вторая история - это похоже на мою мечта. Я очень хочу поехать в Италию и насладится её красотою!

Спасибо за Ваши истории.

Пишите еще, пожалуйста.

Thank you for your stories.

Write more, please. /Katerina/

Thanks for your answer, I used the Google Translator to understand you but it’s ok.
In fact, I just saw a very interesting post on David Mansaray’s blog where he was writing about the learning, I found his thoughts very helpful. In other terms, we have to listen and read a lot, that’s right but all this passive learning has to be active if we really want to learn the language so we must activate our mind. Not simply listening to others but speaking even if we are alone. It’s the same for reading, we also have to write to get used to the vocabulary. The passive part is called “consumption” and the second “production”, obviously we need both parts.

See David Mansaray’s article here :

So I’m glad you liked it and I wish you are not the only one. I wasn’t expected that someone could tell me he/she was so into the story that she feel it as if he/she was there for real. Then, I will try to write more so you can keep on dreaming, ah ah. The first story was inspired by Poe’s short stories. For the second one, well, I have to say that it was nearly real, in fact I wrote it with the sight of a child being an adult so I added some fiction. I went there some years ago and in my memory it is clearly a fantastic place to be so this is clearly an elogious picture of Italy. I hope you could realise your dream and go to Italy, it’s really great and there’s so much beautiful things. Here’s my third story, this one is for you Катерина.

Third writing (July 3rd) :

 I was listening to music when someone knocked the door. I take my earphones off and opened the door :

“What do you want ?”
“You should come along. That is incredible.”
“I’m busy, is it really important ?”
“Yeah, you won’t believe it, you must really see it !” she said louder.
“Ok” I replied and then I went downstairs following her. I was not really awake so I tottered while she was arguing that it was the most spectacular thing she ever seen. I know her, she is always surprised by anything. Someday she told me that our neighbour was drunk and went home with a big trash bag, she thought about was where in the bag all week. It was living inside she said me, it moved. Then, I replied that she was her who was drunk. “It is not funny” was her last word. Her imagination is almost limitless, I sometimes feel jealous but she’s quite hallucinating.

 At present, she was not hallucinating, otherwise I was with her. The whole city had completely disappeared. All around our house was desert, we were alone and could only see sand, sand all over there. And us.

“Then, what do you think about that ?”
“Well, mistery.”
“I do believe we’re in another dimension.” she told me seriously.
“It’s not possible but it’s quite disturbing. Why us and what’s the meaning of this ?” I murmured.
I was thinking about this when I heard a far sound, almost like a voice. It seemed that this voice was calling me. Suddenly, I felt the ground cracking below my feet. I fell in a sort of violent aspiration, I was now alone in a black box. This could not make sense, if so I had to resolve this enigma. I couldn’t escape and I had to find why I was there. I noticed that a ray of light was emitted in the right upper corner of the box. I then tried to dig from it, the other side was all white. I jumped on it and almost fly for a minute before I touched the ground again. After what I began relaxing, extending my whole body on the floor, then I closed my eyes. This action was done so easily and in a so smooth way that I felt sleeping, totally relaxed.

When I opened my eyes I was in my bed, on my back enjoying what I have just lived.

Yesterday’s writing, the 4th :

How important work should be in somebody’s life ?

 First of all, we should define what “work” means. For a lot of people, it’s something that they are nearly forced to do whether they enjoy it or not. This kind of work tackles several problems in someone’s life. It sometimes troubled a person who can be either stressed of perfectly safe. This work could make them feel inferior, then this judgement could also be present in their all-day social life. In fact, work influences our private life, some points are great, however the bad part is way more dangerous. Don’t you know someone who is depressed ? Haven’t you ever heard about worker suicides caused about a too high pressure ? The suicide is, of course, the uttermost form of trouble but it is real. In this case, our work situation may make feel us happy, violent nay disillusioned in our life, that’s why we should not mix both. Now it’s going a lot more harder because of the social networks, anyone can share anything more quickly that you may not be able to be informed. Our work definitely shapes our identity, it is now socially linked to work, that’s a fact. Pay attention to the importance of work, if it is overrated, that could be very dangerous and your whole being could be affected.
 Fortunately, for some other people, work sounds like a passion which is now their full-pledged job. It was certainly a simple hobby before becoming their professional work but this is really the best work we can get. It’s hard but if you really like cooking, for example, you may become a cooker and open your restaurant. That would be quite a good experience. Then work and private life are about the same thing, cooking, drawing, singing… such some artistic hobbies. I’d like to add another dimension : the personal work, which can be both considered as a serious thing and as a mere entertainment. In this casen work can fit lots of meanings. You may be interested in growing your culture, improving your language skills or even expanding your experience in manual activities. Work can be either intellectual, spiritual, sportive, etc…

Finally, all works are different thus there are millions of paths. Just find yours !

hi klaaxy.thanks for your story.where do you put your story?