The SP Library

[Starr Polish]

Want to see a couple of my short stories? I'll post 'em here.

If I decide to start posting one of my longer, potentially novel lenght stories, I'll start another thread.

Warning: Some of my short stories are very dark. They don't exceed the PG-13 rating of the board, but a few have been labled as slightly disturbing. Most of the darker stories were written a few years ago, during one of the lower points in my life. They do not necessarily represent any actual events in my life, nor do they reflect on the person I am today.

Stories:

Spin, written 2/8/2001. Mildly dark, implied suicidal thoughts. Page 1.
Raccoon, written 2/12/2001. Slight fantasy feel, stupid high school students. Page 1.
Tough As Snails, written 8/3/2001. Fantasy. Page 2.
Untitled Excerpt written 5/2/2003. Very short. Page 2.

[Lief Erikson]

I'll be happy to read and probably comment on any stories you post :). I've got several other short stories that I'll be posting. It's up to you whether you post your dark ones or not, though if you consider them dark you might want to post a small warning before the story. It would help people to have easy reference if you post each short story with a single thread for it. That way they don't have to seek through the library to find them :). Unless of course you were to say which pages each one of them are on, in one of your earlier posts. You don't have to anticipate which page they'll each be on, but can continually edit one post as you post your short stories.

[Starr Polish]

Spin, written 2/8/2001

Author's Note: Some of this is really badly written, but I still like the initial idea, and the beginning and the end. Also, minor swearing in this story.


Do you remember the game you used to play as a child? The one where you all began spinning, seeing how long you could do it without falling? Eventually you would fall down, down in the soft green grass, and grip the ground, because the entire world was turned upside down. You gripped on because you felt tipped over, and afraid that the world was going to throw you into the sky, where you would fall endlessly. It was bliss tinged with fear. Eventually the world would slowly return to normal, and you would continue the game.

That's my life.


The last time I actually played that was when I was around five. I remembered my mother leaving to go to the store.


"Be a good girl Geena. Mommy has to go to the store. I'll be back soon," she said as she picked up the car keys and headed for the garage.


She didn't come back.


I had been outside when my father told me to news. I remember his hands shaking and seeing his eyes tear up, and how his voice scared me.


"Geena, oh Geena, I'm sorry, but Mommy died today. You understand what I'm saying, don't you?" He said, holding on to me. Of course I understood, but I didn't say anything. He began to cry, and I ran out of his arms and began to spin. I was spinning so fast that the color became undefineable. Everything was an amazing blur. Nothing had definition. The I fell to the ground, my eyes stinging with salt water I could not control.


My world tipped over that day and became bitter. I can't swallow this anymore, I'm thinking as I stare out the window. The beautiful sun and sky was mocking me. Everyone else is happy, why aren't you? They say, taunting me. There's a knife on the table, but I won't touch it. My father still needs me.


It's been ten years since that drunk b*stard hit my mom. He walked away without a scratch, but was charged with drunk driving. Boo-hoo for him. I want to scratch his eyes out. A jail sentence and fine can't bring my mother back, can't the stupid law makers see that?


The mechanical creaks of the garage door warn me that my father is home. Even after ten years, he still can't forget my mother exactly how she was. He has never had any interest in any other woman. There are pictures around of her everywhere. My mother, pregnant with me, on the mantel. Their wedding day above the television. Some glamour poses of her in the hallway. Even one of her sleeping. It's hanging up in the kitchen. My father, who has been in love with only one woman his whole life. His next sentence shreds the small bit of reality I still have left.


"Geena, will you be okay alone tonight? I have a date with Mary from the office," he says, straightening his tie, acting as if this statement is of absolutely no importance. He doesn't notice I'm staring at him with fire in my eyes until he begins to feel it boring in his back. "What?" He asks innocently. My father isn't stupid. I know he knows what is wrong. I stare for another moment before I quietly explode.


"Um, Dad, I think your forgetting something," I say, the words nearly catching in my throat and choking me.


"What could that be? I am wearing pants, aren't I?" He laughs, but stops abruptly when he sees I'm not going along with his old joke.


"You're forgetting that," I say, pointing a finger toward the picture of my mother, her hair splayed out on a pillow, her features delicate and perfect.


"Geena, I loved your mother, but I need to move on. I'm not going to marry Mary anyways. Heh...marry Mary..." and I know this is the end of the conversation. He feels that I am becoming unsafe to be around (which very well might be true) and quickly leaves. I look at the knife, it's laughing silver beckoning me. Your father won't need you anymore, now that he has Mary. Go ahead, it says to me. I pick it up, then slam it into it's appropriate drawer. I need to get away from here.


I am running outside, letting the summer wind play with my hair, throwing it's long black strands into tangles. I have reached the middle of a large feild behind my neighborhood, nothing but grass surround me. The distant sounds of the highway remind me of my pain. The world is spinning, and nothing has definiton. Lines and boundaries do not exist, and colors are bleeding and merging. Finally I am falling, my world is tipping and spinning with a beautiful fierceness. I grab the ground for a moment that lasts forever, then let go, falling into the endless sky.

[Lief Erikson]

Is that the end?

[Arat-Falathion]

heh Lief :)

[Starr Polish]

LoL...yes. My short stories are VERY short, generally. Most of them end with a punch, twist or just kind of hang there...it's my style, I guess.

[Lief Erikson]

Geena really sounds emotionally unstable. I'm afraid I can't emphathize with her very well. The dizziness, falling into the sky, the fact that ten years ago this event happened and she still hasn't come back into reality
His next sentence shreds the small bit of reality I still have left.
really makes me think this. Sorry, I must seem really heartless, but I'm of the opinion that Geena is unstable, possibly partially insane.

I like her father though, and the internal drama going on within Geena, going through her thoughts and such, is well written.

[Starr Polish]

Lief, that was the point. I wasn't exactly emotionally stable at the time either, but I wasn't as bad as Geena (I am guilty of giving my characters horrible names, and spelling them oddly. Other non-fantasy stories include Karry, Kaylen (boy), Kaelyn (girl), Orleanna and Antigone :o). Just recently I discovered that parts of this story represent a "friend" of mine very well. Her father died (suicide) when she was very young, second grade, I think.

She'll be eighteen in July and still hasn't got over it. I understand getting over the grief of a parent takes a long time, but she never misses an oppurtunity to bring it up, and because he died on my birthday, I refuse to be near her then, since I would rather not think about death on my day of birth.

[Lief Erikson]

Okay, well, I'm glad I got the point.

I suppose I should wait for other readers to comment before asking to read the next story :). I suppose that's the good thing about having a different thread for each story; they can be discussed as people read them and want to comment on them.

[Aralyn]

Oh my gosh I love it!! I don't usually gush or anything but that was really really good. So cool. Do more!!

[Agalayth]

That was great writing. The whole metaphor about the game is very cleverly woven in. It doesn't matter whether it's short or not. It's great work. :)

[Starr Polish]

Raccoon, written 2/12/2001

Author's Note: Just...odd. I changed one line in this story, since it really didn't fit, but otherwise it is exactly how I wrote it two years ago. Slight fantasy feel.

Buzz buzz buzz the useless alarm clock hollers. Get up, it's time to wake up and greet the world. She looked at the clock and shut off its useless alarm. Karry was already awake. She had been staring at the clock every fifteen minutes, and she wished she could throw it against the wall. Insomnia's fingers had tightened her depression's grip, and now she couldn't shake off her usual sadness. She stumbled through her routine. Take shower. Brush teeth. Get dressed. Eat breakfast. How tedious and long this was. How useless. Just like her alarm clock. She ate her cereal slowly, watching it turn into a blob of slime like substance in the milk.
Karry's mother did not let her daughter's lethargic behaviour and slightly disheveled appearance slip past her.

"Hey Raccoon. Another long night?" She asked, tousling Karry's hair.

"Yeah. Don't touch me," Karry snapped. She wanted to apologize, but her tongue wouldn't form the words. Her sharp teeth cut her tongue, and she knew that she would taste blood if she tried to form these words. Insomnia and depression did this to you.

She trudged to school, one again wondering why she even bothered. Everyone always stared at her, she was so different. They called her Raccoon, but not playfully like her mother did. They called her this because of the dark mask she wore, the circles under her eyes. A tell tale sign of insomnia. Her hair was often a tangled mess that somehwhat resembled a ponytail at times, at others it appeared to be a messy bird's nest. Karry didn't care what they thought of her. If only they knew...

But oh, she did care. How it hurt her to see them make fun of her long black nails and dark, sad eyes. Her eyes were completely empty, devoid of any soul. They weren't cold, no, not nearly as cold as those ice blue eyes underneath sandy and platinum blonde strands of hair. Their tan faces laughed in her pale one. Their sharp words cut the already torn and bleeding heart, until it was nothing but mush, no more recognizable than her cereal that morning.

If only they knew.

Her classes could be hell. The girls, the enjoyed taunting her behind her back, but the boys were the worst.

"Hey Raccoon," Kaylen Price sneered. "I see the rats slept in your hair again," he said, tweaking a stray curl. Karry bit her tongue until she tasted blood. Her sharp teeth were anxious. She bristled, willing her small shredded soul and her body to wait, to be still. School would be over soon.

That lovely bell, oh, how she loved it. The second she heard it she ran away, ignoring the teacher, ignoring her homework, leaving all things behind. She began to run. Run run run. I'll never stop, she thought to herself. She felt herself become free, the worries that so burdened her earthly body slowly fall from her, just as her clothes were. She left a black bread crumb trail from the school to a small creek, so maybe, maybe she could get back. She doubted it.

The birds of the high school slowly devoured the bread crumb trail, trying to find her. It was Kaylen that led the way. The finally reached the creek, where the last piece of clothing lay. There were foot prints on the edge of the creek, but they stopped.

Kaylen stood staring, a black t-shirt in his hand. "No trace," he said quietly.

No one noticed a small raccoon staring at them from the other side of the creek.

[Lief Erikson]

Well written, just like the last one :). I enjoyed reading it. I've put a lot of thought into the ending, but I've still not worked it out fully. At first I thought she'd committed suicide, and then I thought that she transformed into the racoon. But the problem with that view is the bread crumb trail that she left so that she can get back, and its getting devoured. I originally thought that was her clothes, but with the transformation idea that doesn't work. If the transformation is the way things really happened, then that explains all of the earlier parts of the story :).

Yep, now I'm pretty sure that she really did transform into a racoon :D.

[Aralyn]

Really good. I like how it does have a fantasy feel to it.

[IronParrot]

I didn't interpret it as a transformation, Lief.

Think back to motifs like the River Styx from Greek mythology. The creek would symbolize the border between life and death; the raccoon is staring at them "from the other side", invisible to us, because she died. That's how I took it.

[BeardofPants]

Originally posted by Starr Polish
Karry was already awake. She had been staring at the clock every fifteen minutes, and she wished she could through it against the wall.

She wished she could throw it against the wall. ??

Originally posted by Starr Polish
There were foot prints on the edge of the creek, but the stopped.

..., but they stopped. ??

I'd like to read some more of your stuff. Do you have some posted on any fan-fic sites?

[Lief Erikson]

Originally posted by Starr Polish
She left a black bread crumb trail from the school to a small creek, so maybe, maybe she could get back. She doubted it.

The birds of the high school slowly devoured the bread crumb trail, trying to find her. It was Kaylen that led the way.
What's the black bread crumb trail then? It says that it was left there so that she could get back. Does someone about to die generally make some sort of a link so that they might get back?

The late nights are extremely well explained if she's been spending time at night as a racoon. Her disinterest in everything which is human is explained well that way also.

Another thing which could be interpreted to show that she transformed is the fact that the language changes. She looks upon the predatory kids as birds; the language changes as she becomes more of a racoon.

However, I agree that the other view, suicide, makes quite a lot of sense also. The disease she was suffering from and the way she was having trouble with everything in life could be very logical pressures for her to commit suicide.

[BeardofPants]

Maybe she wanted to leave it as a lifeline, but because life was already screwing her over, that wasn't an option for her? I agree with IP, it seems that death was the only end for her. Just think of the symbolism of the colour black: black crumbs, black nails, black eyes.

[Lief Erikson]

Well, one further evidence that that's the case is that that story was written only four days after the other one, so Starr was still going through that difficult time she mentioned.

[BeardofPants]

Well, perhaps your idea of the transformation could be symbolic of the death of her "human-ness"? There, a compromise. :) ;)

[Lief Erikson]

You and Coney are very probably right :).

[Starr Polish]

Wow. I didn't think I'd get this much feedback (never had so much on any of my stories before...). I think I'll leave it up to the reader to interpret the actual meaning of Raccoon. I have my own meaning to it, but it's absolutely possible to find your own in it.

The black bread crumbs were supposed to be a metaphor for her shedded clothing. That wasn't very well thought out at the time of writing, since I don't think I mentioned her wearing black clothing.

Thanks for pointing out the mistakes, BoP. I haven't edited these at all, except for one line in Raccoon, and my spelling and grammar and typos were pretty bad when I was fourteen.

I have some stuff posted at fanfiction.net and fictionpress.net and hennethannun.net. Mostly LOTR fanfiction, and just some poems at fictionpress.net.

I'll look for something a tad less depressing to post next. I've started to get in a writing mood, as well, so maybe some new stuff will be posted soon.

[IronParrot]

I generally find that the best writing leaves a lot of room for reader interpretation, so yes, let us speculate. :)

It would be neat to see something that you wrote more recently or are working on now, just to see how it's different from what you've already posted.

[Starr Polish]

Tough as Snails, written 8/3/2001

Author's Note: I promise to have something new up soon! This isn't nearly as dark as the others, and is definitely fantasy. Not one of my better stories.

The new dew fell victim to tiny footprints as Tervin leaped across the blades of grass. The morning fairy giggled in delight and scooped up a dew drop for a drink. When she was done with her simple breakfast she glided about for a bit, almost invisible to the human eye. Tervin was forced out of her frolicking by the loud voice of an obnoxious human child. Fearful for her life, she dashed toward a bush and covered herself quickly. She immediately recognized the disturbance.

Ryan was a loud boy of eight years, and though his blonde curls and large brown eyes made him look innocent, he was a menace. Several times he had come to the field where Tervin lived and ruined the peace she loved. He always left, of course, but not without leaving an unfriendly reminder. Broken plants and trash littered her small field when he left, and kept her always busy. After painstakingly repairing the plants and hauling the large candywrappers out of her field, he just returned, more destructive than before. Tervin was afraid this time she would be pushed to the edge.

"Now what should I do today?" Ryan asked aloud. He laughed again and began pulling up plants, getting dangerously close to Tervin's bush. She shivered slightly, causing a breeze to blow through the meadow. Ryan noticed something odd about the wind, but didn't know it was because of fairy magic.

The eight year old soon grew tired of pulling up plants and searched for a new item of interest while he nibbled on a chocolate bar. The discarded wrapper fluttered and caught Ryan's eye.

"What could this be?" He wondered, and lifted the wrapper to find a small snail underneath. The snail seemed normal to him, but in actuality it was Tervin's pet of sorts, and she looked to it as her sole companion in her otherwise lonely domain. She had a feeling of overwhelming dread when she saw the mischievious smile on Ryan's face.

The boy picked up the snail and giggled as it crawled across his arm. The snail left a trail of slime on his arm, and Ryan became somewhat angry. First he was satisfied to just bounce the snail around, but found himself bored once again. He set the snail down and it seemed like he was going to leave. Tervin began to let a out a sigh of relief, but it was interrupted by a sickening crunch. Ryan had stomped on her snail and broke its tiny shell. Tervin was in a rage. She forgot about her own safety and promptly flew toward Ryan and bit his nose.

"How dare you crush such a tiny animal! It did nothing to you," she screamed at Ryan, her voice barely a whisper to his ears. The stunned boy didn't even think of how odd it was to see a fairy, let alone one that had bitten him. He was only concerned about his sore nose. Annoyed, he slapped Tervin away and began walking home.

Tervin, though slightly stunned, was not about to let the boy go unpunished for taking away her only companion. In a burst of righteous anger, a thin but fast wisp of magic burst from her tiny fingers and struck the boy.


It had been three weeks since Ryan was gone. His mother was frantic, but none of the search parties could find him. Maybe, if they had looked closer, they would have noticed a tiny yell, barely a whisper to their ears, coming from a small snail shell at the bottom of a bush in his favorite meadow. Inside the shell was a tiny fairy boy, with ringlets of gold and big brown eyes, and chains around his ankles and hands. Tervin hardly noticed it anymore, only kicking it every now and then when the wailing got too loud.

[IronParrot]

I liked that one more than the other two, probably because it's not quite so morbid. Poor Ryan, though :p

[Lief Erikson]

It sounds like a fairy tale. Perhaps a fairy tale started by environmentalists :D.

[Starr Polish]

I honestly have no idea where it came from. The title popped into my head, and out came the story.

My stories come from weird places. Never know when a situation will lend itself to a story. A daydream and the act of writing actually inspired a novel lenght story I've yet to put down in writing, but have stored in my head.

[Gwaimir Windgem]

I agree with Lief. It seems like a very interesting fairy-tale. :)

[Ragnarok]

Not much of a writer so i can't give criticism or advice (for my lack of knowledge.) But I enjoyed your stories, they were easy to get into and interesting.

[Aralyn]

That was good. I like how it's not a basic fairy tale as in a happily ever after. And your writing style is good. It's easy to understand

[Gwaimir Windgem]

Originally posted by Aralyn
That was good. I like how it's not a basic fairy tale as in a happily ever after.

Fairy-tales aren't necessarily "happily ever after"'s...They didn't USED to be, at least. :rolleyes:

[Aralyn]

That's what I meant. The good ones like Little mermaid (in which the mermaid dies) and such like that were good but newer ones tend to be happily ever after.

[Lief Erikson]

Starr Polish, you still here? We're ready to read the next story :D.

[Starr Polish]

Sorry, been busy (prom and the like) and I've fallen ill. I'll post when I find more stuff.

I could post an old story called "The City Sleeps". It's more of an essay though. Or some poetry/essays and the like, if you'd like. :D

[Starr Polish]

Untitled excerpt, written 5/2/003

Author's Note: Very short excerpt of my hopefully to-be novel length story. The character of Claire is basically an outlet for my opinions, and in many ways IS me, whether it be a past or present form of my personality.

Linda sighed and looked up into his grey-green eyes. Everything was perfect. Life had suddenly fallen into place, and she no longer felt like she lived on the outside, looking in.
"I love you more than words can express," she whispered, and she could feel him smiling in her shoulder.
"I couldn't have said it better," Darren replied, rather muffled. The threatening rain clouds dissipated, and they lost each other in their first kiss.

Claire Starr snorted and threw her book against the wall. Why she had allowed herself to read such drivel was still a mystery to her. A friend had reccommended it, and out of some sense of loyalty she felt compelled to finish it.

"This does not mean, however, that I am not going to give her my honest opinion," she said to herself, retrieving the battered paperback from the pile of clothes where it had fallen. The corner of her own notebook stuck out from underneath a black sweater, and Claire had to keep herself from kicking it. "It's not like that's any better than this," she said, again to no one. Her conversations were usually one sided.

[IronParrot]

So is this the opening, or has Claire been pretty well established already at this point?

[Starr Polish]

Hmm...well, since this is the birth of the story on paper (it's been growing in my mind for several monhts), it's her introduction.

Blah...I just noticed the screen name reference in her name. Not intentional.

[IronParrot]

Oh, so you just started it today? Neat... it's a good start for sure. And yes, I noticed the screen name reference, but don't change it if it feels right. :)

[Entlover]

I love "Spin." I think it's very well written. I don't think she's emotionally disturbed, I just think the timeline's off. If only a year had passed instead of ten years, her feelings would be completely understandable. and so would her father's (perhaps precipitous) desire to start to date again. Maybe he just misses having someone iron his handkerchiefs and sort his socks.;)
The way the game melds into her emotions is superb.

I don't care so much for Tough as Snails. I prefer elves and fairies as tall as humans, rather than the teeny ones with wings who were invented by the Victorians. But if you have to have one, I guess one that bites people on the nose is the best kind.