I like to write small stories without any real point or reason. Most of them are in Swedish though, but here's one I just wrote in English. Thought I might share it ^^
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”It’s just your **** imagination” Sam muttered to himself. He couldn’t shake of the feeling that the forest was a bit darker than usual. He often walked trought the forest to save a couple of minutes when he was on his way to his friends house. ”Just your imagination” he thought to himself. Still he increased the pace. He wasn’t scared. It’s just that… weird things had been happening in the forest. ”Just your imagination” he repeated to himself. Suddenly he fell forward. He crashed down onto the leafy ground with a panicked scream. Someting had grabbed his foot. He wanted to run, run away from there fast and never ever enter the forest again, bu the didn’t. Someting urged him to look behind him. He pushed himself up slowly and brushed off some leaves. Expecting pretty much anything, he turned around. Nothing. No tree monster, no giant bear trap, nothing. No, someting. Something was lying there among the leaves. His eyes barely saw it. It blended in so well with the grass, with the leaves, with the forest. He picked it up. ”A guitar?” He said, wondering why a guitar was lying in the middle of the forest. He examined it. It looked just like a new one he’d seen at the music store. But there wasn’t any brand name on it. No logo. The neck of the guitar was painted with flowers in all colours he could imagine. He let his hand move up and down on the strings. Beautiful. He had never played guitar before, but somehow he knew that this was an awesome piece of equipment, a masters work. He plucked a string. It rang with such a beautiful tone, almost like the trees themselves were humming along with it. Like posessed, he started playing. He had no idea what he was playing, but it sounded beautiful. He closed his eyes. The music filled his ears, his body. Suddenly, it was gone. He opened his eye. He was still sitting on the grass in the forest. The guitar was still in his hands. How long had he been playing? He got up and headed home, with the guitar on his shoulder.
The voice of the guitar filled Sams room with sweet tones. It replaced the very air with music. The flowers on the guitar seemed to change shape and colors as Sam played, but Sam didn’t think about it, nor did he ever wondered how it was that he could play an instrument he had never toutched before so well like this. He barely noticed a sound piercing trough the music. It was the front door of the house closing. His mother was home from work. A little smile appeared on Sams face, and he kept on playing. Just like he had hoped, his mother entered his room, just staring at him. Sam couldn’t help but to smile a bit more. ”What are you doing?” his mother asked him.
”I’m playing guitar” he said simply, still picking the strings.
”But… but….” his mother tried to speak, but she just stood there and stared. The music. It just filled her up. There was no need for words. Sam rose up form his chair and walked to the front door. His mother opened it for him, so Sam didn’t have to take his hands off the guitar, so he didn’t have to stop playing. The music escaped the prison-like walls of the house and exploded into the air outside. A car stopped and a man walked out. He didn’t do anything. He just stood there in the middle of the road, listening to the music, just like his mom. One of the neighbors got out of the house and joined the man, and he listened as well. Sam played. People were coming from everywhere, and they all listened, listened to the music. They seemed like hundreds, no, thousands. The music stopped. Sam looked around him. Nothing. No one was standing in the streets. His mom wasn’t there. Everything was just dark. He still held the guitar firmly in his hands. The colours on the flowers had faded. Suddenly a flash appeared in front of him. The guitar! Someone had taken it from his hands. He saw a person dressed in a robe running down the street. He ran after. He could barely see the person in front of him, but he knew where he was going. Sam followed the person into the forest, the same forest where he had found the guitar. He couldn’t see the person, but he knew that the person was there. The person was all around him, in the very air, just like the music had been when he played in the forest. He stopped. The person he had been chasing appeared in front of him. Sam couldn’t make out the face under the robed figure’s hat. All Sam saw was a shade. The person held the guitar in his right hand. “I created this guitar from pieces of my soul” The person said. His voice was calm, yet it echoed trough the forest. “I need this instrument for my work here in the forest. Why did you steal it?”
“I couldn’t help myself” Sam replied without thinking. “The sound the guitar made… I have never felt so good in my whole life!”
“I can’t deny that this guitar have some unique characteristics” The robed figure said. “But it’s still a guitar. If you want to, you could get the same sound out of any guitar you find”
“But… I can’t play guitar” Sam said. A tear fell down his cheek. “Your stupid guitar played itself!”
“Is that what you think?” The figure said. “Young one, you don’t play music with the instrument. You play music with this” He tapped his chest. “Everyone can play music, if they play with their hearths” The man started to play the guitar. The same music Sam had played filled the forest. Sam just stared at the man, watched his fingers moving up and down. Then he stopped. He reached out the guitar to Sam. Sam took it. It was not the same guitar as before. It looked like a regular guitar.
“Play with your hearth”
The figure disappeared. Once again, Sam returned home with a guitar in his hand.
“Where have you been?” His mother asked him “Is that a guitar? Since when did you play guitar?”
Sam sat down in the kitchen and started to play. He smiled
“I’m playing with my hearth mom” he said
“Please Sam, I’m tired” His mother said. “go to your room if you’re going to eh… play that thing”
Sam got up and walked to his room
“And close the door!”
Sam would later become one of the most talented and respected guitarist in the whole music business. He never stopped playing with his hearth.
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If you have a story of your own, feel free to share it here. I love to read small stories ^^
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”It’s just your **** imagination” Sam muttered to himself. He couldn’t shake of the feeling that the forest was a bit darker than usual. He often walked trought the forest to save a couple of minutes when he was on his way to his friends house. ”Just your imagination” he thought to himself. Still he increased the pace. He wasn’t scared. It’s just that… weird things had been happening in the forest. ”Just your imagination” he repeated to himself. Suddenly he fell forward. He crashed down onto the leafy ground with a panicked scream. Someting had grabbed his foot. He wanted to run, run away from there fast and never ever enter the forest again, bu the didn’t. Someting urged him to look behind him. He pushed himself up slowly and brushed off some leaves. Expecting pretty much anything, he turned around. Nothing. No tree monster, no giant bear trap, nothing. No, someting. Something was lying there among the leaves. His eyes barely saw it. It blended in so well with the grass, with the leaves, with the forest. He picked it up. ”A guitar?” He said, wondering why a guitar was lying in the middle of the forest. He examined it. It looked just like a new one he’d seen at the music store. But there wasn’t any brand name on it. No logo. The neck of the guitar was painted with flowers in all colours he could imagine. He let his hand move up and down on the strings. Beautiful. He had never played guitar before, but somehow he knew that this was an awesome piece of equipment, a masters work. He plucked a string. It rang with such a beautiful tone, almost like the trees themselves were humming along with it. Like posessed, he started playing. He had no idea what he was playing, but it sounded beautiful. He closed his eyes. The music filled his ears, his body. Suddenly, it was gone. He opened his eye. He was still sitting on the grass in the forest. The guitar was still in his hands. How long had he been playing? He got up and headed home, with the guitar on his shoulder.
The voice of the guitar filled Sams room with sweet tones. It replaced the very air with music. The flowers on the guitar seemed to change shape and colors as Sam played, but Sam didn’t think about it, nor did he ever wondered how it was that he could play an instrument he had never toutched before so well like this. He barely noticed a sound piercing trough the music. It was the front door of the house closing. His mother was home from work. A little smile appeared on Sams face, and he kept on playing. Just like he had hoped, his mother entered his room, just staring at him. Sam couldn’t help but to smile a bit more. ”What are you doing?” his mother asked him.
”I’m playing guitar” he said simply, still picking the strings.
”But… but….” his mother tried to speak, but she just stood there and stared. The music. It just filled her up. There was no need for words. Sam rose up form his chair and walked to the front door. His mother opened it for him, so Sam didn’t have to take his hands off the guitar, so he didn’t have to stop playing. The music escaped the prison-like walls of the house and exploded into the air outside. A car stopped and a man walked out. He didn’t do anything. He just stood there in the middle of the road, listening to the music, just like his mom. One of the neighbors got out of the house and joined the man, and he listened as well. Sam played. People were coming from everywhere, and they all listened, listened to the music. They seemed like hundreds, no, thousands. The music stopped. Sam looked around him. Nothing. No one was standing in the streets. His mom wasn’t there. Everything was just dark. He still held the guitar firmly in his hands. The colours on the flowers had faded. Suddenly a flash appeared in front of him. The guitar! Someone had taken it from his hands. He saw a person dressed in a robe running down the street. He ran after. He could barely see the person in front of him, but he knew where he was going. Sam followed the person into the forest, the same forest where he had found the guitar. He couldn’t see the person, but he knew that the person was there. The person was all around him, in the very air, just like the music had been when he played in the forest. He stopped. The person he had been chasing appeared in front of him. Sam couldn’t make out the face under the robed figure’s hat. All Sam saw was a shade. The person held the guitar in his right hand. “I created this guitar from pieces of my soul” The person said. His voice was calm, yet it echoed trough the forest. “I need this instrument for my work here in the forest. Why did you steal it?”
“I couldn’t help myself” Sam replied without thinking. “The sound the guitar made… I have never felt so good in my whole life!”
“I can’t deny that this guitar have some unique characteristics” The robed figure said. “But it’s still a guitar. If you want to, you could get the same sound out of any guitar you find”
“But… I can’t play guitar” Sam said. A tear fell down his cheek. “Your stupid guitar played itself!”
“Is that what you think?” The figure said. “Young one, you don’t play music with the instrument. You play music with this” He tapped his chest. “Everyone can play music, if they play with their hearths” The man started to play the guitar. The same music Sam had played filled the forest. Sam just stared at the man, watched his fingers moving up and down. Then he stopped. He reached out the guitar to Sam. Sam took it. It was not the same guitar as before. It looked like a regular guitar.
“Play with your hearth”
The figure disappeared. Once again, Sam returned home with a guitar in his hand.
“Where have you been?” His mother asked him “Is that a guitar? Since when did you play guitar?”
Sam sat down in the kitchen and started to play. He smiled
“I’m playing with my hearth mom” he said
“Please Sam, I’m tired” His mother said. “go to your room if you’re going to eh… play that thing”
Sam got up and walked to his room
“And close the door!”
Sam would later become one of the most talented and respected guitarist in the whole music business. He never stopped playing with his hearth.
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If you have a story of your own, feel free to share it here. I love to read small stories ^^
Oh, just one thing... not a criticism, I just want clarification... you say you don't write most stories in English so I was wondering, where you say he plays with his "hearth" do you mean heart? Just wondering cause hearth in English is like a fireplace I think. Either way the meaning isn't lost... it's a good story thanks for sharing.
