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Misha's Midnight Encounter

My eyes shoot open as an incoherent wail echoes from the hall outside. Sitting up in bed, I stare at the door like I might be able to see through it, but that's just silly. The dark walls make the open window stand out, the sky beyond covered with a foggy haze. Hearing the mournful wail again, I try to listen, but it's getting further away.

“Shicchan?” I whisper into the darkness, forgetting myself.

Taking the blankets with me, wrapping them over my shoulder, I stand and head for the door, determined to find the source of that strange sound. Grasping the doorknob, I feel a blast of chill air brush across my neck, making the hairs there stand on end.

It's just from the window... it's just from the window.

Pulling the door open, I wince at the creaking noise it makes; Jigocchan ought to fix that. Stepping cautiously, I walk down the dark hallway, pulling the blanket closer around my chest and trying not to make a sound.

The wail echoes again, this time coming from right in front of me; from the living room. “Hello~?” I whisper, squinting as I take another step forward.

“Is anyone there~?” My voice catches in my throat as another wail rises from right in front of me. Confused, I reach forward, expecting there to be some dark figure that's too shadowy for me to see clearly. Instead, my hand passes through the spot, and I'm left with a confused grimace.

“Hicchan, this isn't funny~!” I yell, retracting my hand, “come out and show yourself!”

As the words leave my mouth, I feel another cold rush of air roll over my shoulders as a pair of glowing yellow eyes appear before me, just inches from my face. Cold breaths and mist exhale from a grotesque mouth under the eyes and I'm frozen in place while another wail, this time filled with malice, fills me with terror.

Screaming in response, I find my feet and turn to run. Leaping back onto the bed in Shicchan's guest room, I pull the blankets over me and lay trembling as the wails continue.

Index

Lilly Remembers

Floating in a well of darkness, I feel naked and alone, drifting through a soundless vacuum. Whatever I had been doing, I can't remember. The only way I know I'm still alive is the thrum of my own pulse racing through my ears and the steady breaths that pass in and out despite my inability to feel them, or smell the air.

Totally cut off from every sensation, I feel useless and depressed, but that's not the worst part. Somewhere in this shroud of gloom, I can sense the presence of another; some other lost soul is trapped here with me, doomed to reside in this pervasive nothingness.

Hisao...

Remembering his name brings tears to my eyes, or at least I feel like I'm crying. After keeping so much from him, I know I deserve this fate, but not him; never him. All he tried to do is become a part of my life, and, for a while, that was enough. I led him on, letting him think everything was alright; letting him believe I could stay.

But I couldn't...

Waking, I feel wretched and deceitful; as I should. Tears stream down my cheeks and I'm shaking, but there's nothing I can do; we're already in the air. Akira's soft snoring in the chair beside me reminds me how much of a coward I've been. Despite everything, I couldn't bring myself to tell him I had to leave; she had to do it for me. Now I've left everyone I ever loved behind; my classmates, Hanako, Hisao – even my antagonizing cousin.

And for what?

Maybe the answer is right in front of me, but I'm too busy thinking back to consider the future. These past months have been some of the best in my life, and I've gone and thrown them away like so much trash.

I deserve that senseless vacuum...

Short shorts is right. I like the concept of pieces this short, just big enough to relay a thought or squeeze in a story, but small and compressed enough to be meaningful throughout every sentence, every word even. It also appeals to my love for bite sized things that take little of my time. I've spent more time thinking about any individual piece here than I did reading it, and I think that's a very good thing. Keep up the good work.

Walking with Miki:
After the first line I was expecting a story where Miki is actively trying to kill Takashi. I was a bit disappointed that it turned out to be comparatively mundane.

Misha's Midnight Encounter:
Wut?
...Not quite sure what that was supposed to be. Unlike the other shorts in this thread, I think this one doesn't work very well on its own.

Lilly Remembers:
Great short!

MrDan wrote:Short shorts is right. I like the concept of pieces this short, just big enough to relay a thought or squeeze in a story, but small and compressed enough to be meaningful throughout every sentence, every word even. It also appeals to my love for bite sized things that take little of my time. I've spent more time thinking about any individual piece here than I did reading it, and I think that's a very good thing. Keep up the good work.

It makes for decent exercise. Aside from the original short, most of these only took around 15-20 minutes to write, edit and polish.

Mirage_GSM wrote:Walking with Miki:
After the first line I was expecting a story where Miki is actively trying to kill Takashi. I was a bit disappointed that it turned out to be comparatively mundane.

Admittedly, I was aiming at the sort of internal thought process for the beginning rather than an actual story element. The presented challenge was to write a character as their male (opposite gender, rather) counterpart, which I never actually specify in the story either.

Mirage_GSM wrote:Misha's Midnight Encounter:
Wut?
...Not quite sure what that was supposed to be. Unlike the other shorts in this thread, I think this one doesn't work very well on its own.

It sort of ends before anything really happens, I admit. The really short ones have a time limit on finishing them, so this one just ended abruptly before I could get anywhere.

Mirage_GSM wrote:Lilly Remembers:
Great short!

Thanks, though I'm not sure I'm entirely happy with the tone. Going into writing the idea I had, I knew it would be melancholy, but I'm almost afraid I made it too over-dramatic.

Admittedly, I was aiming at the sort of internal thought process for the beginning rather than an actual story element. The presented challenge was to write a character as their male (opposite gender, rather) counterpart, which I never actually specify in the story.

I have to admit I have no idea what you want to tell me with those words...

Mirage_GSM wrote:

Admittedly, I was aiming at the sort of internal thought process for the beginning rather than an actual story element. The presented challenge was to write a character as their male (opposite gender, rather) counterpart, which I never actually specify in the story.

I have to admit I have no idea what you want to tell me with those words...

It's Miki trying to direct blame for her(his) predicament. Since it's written as an excerpt from what would appear to be a larger story, I had to try and suggest the back-story without spending much time going into detail, and doing so with a bit of misplaced anger seemed appropriate for Miki.

If I had more time, I could have been less abrupt, but the time limit makes doing so rather difficult.

I had a thought, and decided to write it into a little short—probably the shortest story I've written in 10 years.
____________________________________________________
Iwanako's Defining Moment

This wasn't supposed to happen. It wasn't fair. If anything, I should have been the one on that stretcher, pale, silent, and lifeless, not him. Every moment felt like an eternity, but everything was a blur, and I didn't care for a moment how frozen my toes had gotten—small penance for my deed. All I can remember are the sound of sirens and strained voices as I ran alongside, screaming for him not to die, begging the paramedics to save him, help him, bring him back... so I could apologize.

It was my fault; I had left him that note, I had lured him there, and then proceeded to tell him how I felt. For two fleeting seconds, I was free because he had smiled; he was going to reciprocate, I just know it. Then he grimaced and lurched forward, clutched his chest and dropped to his knees. A choking gasp is all the reply he could muster before the life drained from his eyes and he fell sideways, landing limply in the cold snow. I had given him my heart, and it killed him.

Helbereth wrote:Iwanako's Defining Moment

Heh, see, this is how you write a ficlet. Well done.

It is always really surreal for me to read somebody else's Iwanako, but I really like her voice here. The only thing I would suggest is changing "EMTs" to "paramedics," since the acronym actually seems kind of out of place amidst the elegance of the rest of the paragraph.

In my mind, Iwanako recovers from this, for the most part—she's had a traumatic experience, but she's still the same person she thought she was. But nobody ever really seems to understand what she's going through after that, and the resulting alienation causes her to retreat from the people around her. By the time she actually musters the courage to step back outside of her shell, she realizes everybody she thought she knew has become a stranger to her. Ultimately she decides to leave her hometown to go to college, but she never winds up coming back. The memories never stop hurting.

Leaty wrote:

Helbereth wrote:Iwanako's Defining Moment

Heh, see, this is how you write a ficlet.

Have you read the other ones?

The only thing I would suggest is changing "EMTs" to "paramedics,"

Indeed. Would you believe I couldn't remember that word? I stared at it for a long time before giving up and leaving EMTs.

In my mind, Iwanako recovers from this, for the most part—she's had a traumatic experience, but she's still the same person she thought she was. But nobody ever really seems to understand what she's going through after that, and the resulting alienation causes her to retreat from the people around her. By the time she actually musters the courage to step back outside of her shell, she realizes everybody she thought she knew has become a stranger to her. Ultimately she decides to leave her hometown to go to college, but she never winds up coming back. The memories never stop hurting.

This would probably make for an interesting story if anyone had the time or inclination to write it.

Helbereth wrote:Have you read the other ones?

Not yet. I was just passing through this thread idly, and stopped because anything related to Iwanako immediately captures my rapt attention. I generally avoid ficlets like the plague on instinct since they're all too often used as a smokescreen for some ambiguously teenage first timer to quickly vomit out text and pretend they put more effort into it than the average YouTube comment, but even though we all know you're explicitly One of the Good Ones, I still hadn't looked at this until now.

Leaty wrote:

Helbereth wrote:Have you read the other ones?

Not yet. I was just passing through this thread idly, and stopped because anything related to Iwanako immediately captures my rapt attention. I generally avoid ficlets like the plague on instinct since they're all too often used as a smokescreen for some ambiguously teenage first timer to quickly vomit out text and pretend they put more effort into it than the average YouTube comment, but even though we all know you're explicitly One of the Good Ones, I still hadn't looked at this until now.

It could also be because it had gone so long since the last update that it was buried probably 5 or 6 pages into the fan fiction forum--I had to use a search to find it again.

Apparently I've read this thread before. I had no idea. In any case, this most recent fic is curiously timed. Weekly Writing Wednesdays, perhaps? On of the prompts was a short short like this. Or maybe it's merely a coincidence. Either way, it was good. It delivered a point without being wrapped in unnecessary fluff and kept a feeling of tension running high. Certainly one of your better works.

Helbereth wrote: I had given him my heart, and it killed him.

I lol'd harder than i shouldve at this