Short Story Blog

Hello. This is a blog where I write all of my stories, hope you enjoy.

[promptsgalore]

Write a letter to the person you’d like to wake up next to tomorrow morning.

[shortstorytelling]

Write About Those Feelings of Resentment You've Been Trying to Hide.

Resentment and I go way back.

In the coffee shop, two years ago, a friend said to me “You’re too forgiving. If I was you I would have never spoken to her again. People will take advantage of you like that.” To her, I imagine because one can never truly know, Resentment was that acquaintance that you bump into every now and then at the most random occasions. To me, Resentment was a constant companion, a sibling who I can never be completely rid of.

Do I try to hide my feelings of Resentment or am I simply tired of them? Perhaps rather than being forgiving I cannot be bothered to hold a grudge. Instead of being kind I just want to take a break from being angry.

So I march on, Resentment by my side.

[promptsgalore]

Write about those feelings of resentment you’ve been trying to ignore.

[shortstorytelling]

'Write Your Life Story In Five Paragraphs or Less.'

I remember my childhood through extreme weather conditions. As it so happens, Britain is mostly drizzle, it’s not America with hurricanes and droughts and snowstorms. Yet, all my memories are accompanied by the blistering heat or the freezing snow. The memories themselves are also extreme. It’s either meeting my newborn sister for the first time, her tiny warm fist clenching my finger. Otherwise, it’s being running to school with excitement at the prospect of my mother going to parent teacher day; I fell over, ruined my knees and the day.

Through primary school I floated like a lingering breeze. Memories offer themselves to me like a bag of Revel chocolates. I pick a toffee, and remember playing in the fields with the other children, enjoying the way my plaits bounced as I skipped. I pick a coffee, and remember the bitter argument with a girl who did gymnastics. She made fun of me for not having a Dad, so I retorted, “I’d rather have no father than a fat mother.”

And then the sirens started so for high school I hid away in a bomb shelter. Waited in isolation for the destruction to stop.

And then I breathed again; there were many goodbyes but also many hellos. If I was to give you one piece of advice it would be to go to university, live in a different city for a while and meet new people. I have changed. There is no doubt about that, whether it be for better or for worse. But when it is midnight and we decide to bake a cake just for the heck of it, I know I am living the good times.

My last paragraph must be dedicated to him. You said, one night when you were low and I wasn't by your side, that you felt like leaving and going to a new city. To which I replied, "At your word I would get in my car and go." Though you should know that, if that ever was to happen, we would be listening to Taylor Swift's 1989 the entire way. To be continued.

[promptsgalore]

Write your life story in five paragraphs or less.

[characterandwritinghelp]

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[shortstorytelling]

Moving Forward.

This evening, my family all sat at the dining table. Nobody argued.

Talking, instead, about the upcoming years, the possibilities that lay before us. We would travel lots, to many different places, and we wondered what we would do while we were there. Then the topic of me going away came up, the friends I would make, the skills I would develop. My sister, the fun times that would come with being in high school.

I looked first at my father, laughing, and wondered where all the confrontation had gone. The past had contained heavy arguments, slaps on our faces, bitter insults. He walked a dangerous path of bad health as he refused to change his health; in his darkest moments he would even say 'What does anyone care anyway? I'll be dead in ten years'. But, for now, that was all gone from his face as he thought about how I would learn how to drive soon. He would be able to discuss cars, his favourite obbsession, with me.

My mother, all the hardships she had faced. I thought about the girl who had never gotten along with her mother when she was young; then lost two family members within the space of a year. Been physically bullied throughout high school, dealt with the set backs of Margret Thatcher. Gone on to have a nasty divorce, struggled to create a good standard of living for her two children. Yet, she looked as youthful as though those years had never happened as she thought about all of us together, while we travelled.

As for my sister, all her troubles were only just beginning. Things she never told me, about how her 'friends' bitch about her when they think she can't hear. Things she did tell me, about how they avoid walking home with her so she wants to walk with me. Her fear, as she considers me leaving her, and her being all alone in a house that argues and a school that rejects her. These aspects about the future that usually shadow her face were absent, as she imagined us together going on rides about spending more time together.

Lastly, I thought of myself; tainted and damaged me. Was this really happening? Were these possibilities even....... remotely possible? They seemed to be, but I was sure that this was some sort of trick.

"Is this real?" I asked out loud.

They all considered me, took me seriously, and nodded.

Maybe this wasn't a trick then. There would be dark times ahead where my father becomes nasty, my mother becomes sad, my sister loses hope and I return to that dark void. But for now, our demons have gone, and we can look to the future with anticipation.

[thelittleshortstories]

{ MY WAIT }

The sun sets on another Wednesday; it’s been a whole year since you’ve gone away. I like watching dust dance around your old table, a place where you used to write, your creative lil’ cradle.

Sometimes I wake at night and imagine you there, the surprise hugs you give, the unspoken way you care. What I miss most about our times together, is the midnight talks we have that seems to last forever.

But all I can do now is sit by our old window, and watch our plant wither, its leaves turn yellow. Friends have asked me, how long before I’ll finally let go? Maybe never, ‘cos loving you is all I’ll ever know.

[shortstorytelling]

The Computer: Cyberbully

The nest of the cyber bully is a dark room. It is impossible to say how big this room is, or what it looks like, or even what room it is, because 90% is a black abyss that is anonymous to everyone.

The only light in the room is the painful glare of a computer screen. With this light it is possible to make out a few things, that the computer is on a desk, there are school books placed beside it ready for the next morning, and the Cyberbully sits at the desk. In the corner of the screen, the computer states that it is 2:03 am. Doesn't it have school tomorrow?

Despite the light being so close, it is almost impossible to make out the Cyberbully. It is wearing a coat of darkness, therefore it is difficult to pinpoint the traits of it. But it's hand is visible, clutching to the mouse in a familiar way. The hand is young with naturally soft and innocent skin, it is warming and inviting, yet it clicks the mouse from time to time in an abrupt and cold manner. Who'd have known?

The coat of darkness that the Cyberbully wears has a hood that completely covers it's eyes; those eyes must be so stiff and dry from staring at that glare for so long. Perhaps this is what makes it blind, blind to it's ignorance and cruelty.

The mouth of the Cyberbully frowns deeply as it observes the web page on the computer screen. Casually, it takes it's right hand off the mouse, reaches for a cigarette packet, the draws out a cigarette, lights it, and smokes. All these movements are done with the ease of someone who is familiar to them. The innocent young hand and the cigarette juxtapose each other, and you begin to wonder how the two are allowed to be together. Surely it is breaking some form of natural law?

"Act like the innocent flower but be the serpent under it" The Cyberbully often thought. Surprised it knows Shakespeare? Well maybe it didn't quite get the meaning, because rather than being disgusted by Lady Macbeth, it took her advice. What we see now is only available to see at night. The rest of the time it is in disguise, maybe it's that really friendly new girl in art class, maybe it's that funny guy who sits next to you in chemistry. Who knows.

On Instagram, it sees that a girl from it's high school has posted a picture of herself. The cyberbully thought of how pathetic she looked and how she wasn't hegemonically pretty. It suddenly realised it's boredom, and had found a fun thing to do. The Cyberbully unleashed it's full potential.

"Errrr what a skanky and ugly picture! Why the fuck do you think I would want to see that :P"

[shortstorytelling]

The Computer: Selfie

It was a world I would never be able to understand.

My thumb, as though on autopilot, gently stroked my iPhone in order to scroll down the Instagram page. I wondered to myself why I even bothered observing it anymore, I almost knew the concept of the next picture before I even saw it. There would be someone from my high school, posing in front of their phone camera.

The majority of girls would pout, their lips stating that they were defying..... well defying something, heck if I know. Their eyes meanwhile would be as big as humanly possible - though some wavered dangerously on alien eyes - trying to look sad? No vulnerability. Of course it was vulnerability, after all a way to attract the male species was to portray yourself as vulnerable. I thought of one of these girls who had once said to her male peer "Oh my god! Like, I can do anything you can do!", but surely you can see their confusion. I don't know, maybe I'm being overly cynical here.

The next picture I see is of a girl a couple of years below me, her camera is higher up, thus exposing her chest. My arms tighten around my own body that I am so self conscious about and find myself confused of how she can have that much confidence.

Confidence uh?

Clicking on my phone camera, I stared at the ominous little black dot at the top of my phone. I then titled my head slightly, pouted my lips, moved the camera up a little and took the picture.

My body felt numb as I pressed to 'post' button; not understanding what I was doing.

[shortstorytelling]

Beyond the Darkness.

On this night where the sky is filled with the faraway stars and fireflies dance whimsically, I walk unknowingly beside you. I am forever gone, forever invisible to you. Yet I am always with you. Nostalgia is my constant companion, as I remember the days of us together in the daylight, laughing. We were young and innocent, because darkness would never come. I truly loved this place, the warmth and beauty of nature. It's ever growing trees, protecting us from harm; they stood before us like intimidating fathers, strict and scared that someday we would get hurt. When we ran through our familiar labyrinth, boots brushed long grass, it whispered "Welcome back!". Even in our teens, we both believed in the sheer magic of this place. It was winter when my time suddenly came. The trees naked and shaken, the grass muddied and silent, a fog lingering in the air, and in your heart. Yes, I watched you, as you grieved. In the darkest days you refused to leave your bed; preferring the numbness of sleep, the pain of hunger. The only light you would accept was Romeo's artificial light, and even then you strained your eyes, at natural light you screamed and howled. "But I am here!" I called, even though he never heard me. Helplessly I hovered over him, praying that someone would save him. "Forget me!" I cried one day, "If you forget me, you will smile again. Forget me and you will be happy." He must have heard, for the next day he left his room and went to school. I followed him as he went back to his normal life. He stayed in lessons without causing any problems, he chatted to our friends without shouting at them. I was completely forgotten it seemed, He had moved on. I should be happy, because this is what I wanted. Stupidly, I went to a private place where I cried alone. Idiot, you are alone, no matter were you are. "If only I had lived"I thought as I cursed my fate. Tonight he has a date. He struggles when deciding what to wear, should he go casual or formal? He goes half and half, wearing jeans but a shirt. When he tried to smoothen his hair, I imagined my living self ruffling it, saying "Why bother? It's always a mess". These days I don't bother saying anything to him, all I do is walk beside him. An expressionless, useless spirit, with no reason. Ah, when will I be relieved of this pain? When will I be allowed to move on as he has? I am nothing more than a shadow as he walks out of his house, along the neighbourhood, and into the forest. I look at him in surprise, he hasn't come here since I was here. Nothing has changed here, The beautiful summer night is breathtaking. Everything I've been denying pours into me, filling me up. I look back at him and see he feels the same. He remembers it all. All the happiness and sadness. He remembers me. I laugh out loud, and dance around the forest in ecstasy, "He remembers me!" I shout and sing. He laughs. Then someone shouts from the distance "Hello? Are you there?" and he responds. As he walks to her I am by his side. I look at the stars, the fireflies, his face and know it is time for my to go. "Goodbye" I say, as we both leave darkness behind.

[shortstorytelling]

Peaceful Days.

I wonder how long these peaceful days will last. Before, there were times of trouble and sadness. Those were times where I wasn't allowed to be myself, when I had to hold back my tears. I will never forget them. But there is no need to think of them now, because these are peaceful days. When I wake up, it is not because of shouting, an arrogant alarm or even a nightmare, it is when the sun  has breathed it's warm and welcoming ray onto my cheek. Before my eyes even think of opening I already know that today is a good day, with a blue sky. Next my mind registers that I'm actually awake,  so I try to fall back to sleep again; Alas it is too late, I am already curious about the world of today. So I final wake up. I can almost hear the "Good morning" in my ear. I take my time when I get ready for school, casually putting my school uniform on, carefully washing my face. When it is time for breakfast, I walk with an indifferent pace of someone who's not hungry, but would quite happily eat. They are all waiting for me at the breakfast table, because "Good morning" is a very important phrase for us. At our wooden table in a little kitchen, we all exchange morning talk, eating our typical toast and cereal. I am so happy. Once breakfast is over, we all say "Goodbye" and "Have a safe trip" as each of us leaves, because these are also very important. As I make my way to school I observe Autumn for the first time this year. Leaves fall down lazily from the trees and I kick the ones on my path up into the air. I can almost hear a happy tune playing in my head as I meet my friend, and we walk together in the orange bliss of peaceful Autumn days I wonder how it came to be this way. It turns out we only just made it in time, but we made it, so what is there to stress about? We all sit down for class, but I have no interest for what is being taught. No, what is truly interesting and curious is outside, because- "Are you listening?" The teacher asks me loudly, the whole class laughs along, for this is typical me on a typical day. They continue to laugh when it is lunch time, telling people from other classes about how I was in another day dream. Does this concern me? No. They are laughing with me, not at me. Lunch is brought out, and we all share each others, because that is what we do, and once we have eaten, we talk together. It is the same when half past three arrives and it is time to go home. When I have made it home, they are all waiting for me. "Welcome back" they say, and for the second time that day we all sit round that wooden table in our little kitchen. Each of us talks about our day, nothing is perfect of course, but these are peaceful days, so everything will be well again soon. This cannot last forever, everything will end one day. They assure me that it won't, that the past has ended, and days will continue to be like this. Maybe they're right, I think as I gaze at the moon through my open window. Maybe it is time to forget the past and accept that peaceful days have come.

[shortstorytelling]

The Differences Between Them

I am simply an observer. Nothing more, nothing less. My friend has taken me to see her favourite singer at a place called The Birdcage. I must admit, she's pretty good, but it's hard to fully appreciate music you don't really know, and for some reason or another I find it difficult to just sit down and listen. My head fills with the most random of thoughts. When she starts to sing some sort of love song with her guitar, I observe her and the man on the side of the stage, taking photos. It is obvious that he is a professional photographer and it is his job to take pictures of her, rather than him being a member of the audience, because of the confidence he took the photographs with and how everybody else seemed to ignore him. Well except for me, and maybe even her. It would so happen that a story unfolded in my head as I observed the two of them, unraveling like a scroll and laying out clearly in front of me. This was their story. They were childhood friends, next door neighbours to be exact. He was shy and quiet, someone who preferred to play alone with his simplistic toys, in his own little world, with a small smile. Maybe he was even bullied slightly, this would make sense as it is usually the quietest kids and the smartest kids (he might have been smart as well) who get bullied. It was because of this that he was always weary of other people. Then there was her, fearless and unreserved, always looking for more friends to make and people to share with, she had a bright smile. She stood up for him whenever she thought that someone was being nasty, she was proud to be friends with him. But she didn't play with him because she thought that was the right thing to do, it was because she wanted to. Quite often she startled him and was too loud for him. But he loved to have her next to him, humming or singing some strange and random tune. They grew up like this. Both having different lives and, I determined, rather difficult lives. Him because of school and friends, her because of family. However, they always remained friends despite everything. And when she told him that she wanted to leave school and become a singer, he did not scold her or claim her foolish like others, he supported her, and eventually decided that he was going to drop school as well, and pursue his dream of becoming a photographer. They both faced many trails, but as you know they both made it, otherwise I would not be observing them now.... "Oh look we can buy the CD over there!" My friend exclaims in delight, "Are you going to buy one?". Well, it was only a two pound CD and the music wasn't half bad, "I will" I say. But there's something different about their relationship, something has changed between them. Was it love? For some reason I doubt this option. When their eyes meet it does not suggest a relationship to me. Oh I know! The present day him focuses his camera one her, he is careful and precise. Once he takes the photo, he looks at it, then at her. His eyes are that of love, pride and sadness, of desperate longing. He believes she is too good for him, why should she fall for him? He is nothing. So he sits on the sidelines of her life, never reaching out incase he damages what he has. But he is something. She knows this. As she sings her love songs, she glances at him, but alas he is looking at his camera. She loves him, and this is as clear as day, and yet he never looks at her. She constantly tries to reach out for him, but he is always turned away. Perhaps he doesn't love her. How this relationship will unfold in the future I have no way of knowing, for I am simply an observer. In fact this might not even be true. But this is what came to mind when I saw a camera man gazing at a singer, and a singer glancing at a cameraman.

[zetsubou-student]

[shortstorytelling]

Jonathan

"You killed him." Jonathan looked up at his father. "You killed my son. You killed Mathew." A mother started screaming in the background. Crying and sobbing hysterically. "Mathew! Mathew! MATHEW!" He eyes desperately looking, trying to find her son. Her eyes found someone. Someone who looked identical to him. Who could be him. "Mathew?" She asked before collapsing. Mother had always been a sensitive soul. Bless her heart. She is not to blame. May she find peace. But why did she have to do this? Why couldn't she accept the devastating truth? Unable to accept the fact that her Mathew had died. She decided that he hadn't. This is all very well. But Mathew wasn't there. You could only pretend someone isn't dead for so long, because they're not there. Once you realises this you are forced to realise the truth. But this mother could pretend. Because she had someone who was exactly like her deceased son. So from then on, Jonathan was called Mathew. On Mathew's grave it said 'Jonathan', friends and family were told the news about Jonathan's death. But not on any account, do you mention this to Mother. Yes she's going through a difficult time at the moment, she doesn't even remember Jonathan. No, we don't want her to see a doctor. I'm sure she'll get better soon. Just make sure you don't mention Jonathan to her. That's right. Jonathan doesn't exist anymore. At first he couldn't cope with it. He would curl up in a corner and mutter "My name is Jonathan. My name is Jonathan." There were a couple of close calls, were mother almost heard. One day she heard him and asked "Who's Jonathan?" Father grabbed his son by his back collar, and dragged him to another room. Where he shut the door firmly. "Are you not satisfied?" he spat. "What?" The boy muttered with confusion. "First you kill my son. Now you are planning to break Mother. Do you want to destroy everything around you? You disgust me. Listen, this is what I want of you. We will move town soon, and when we do you will become Mathew. You are no longer Jonathan. You are Mathew. You don't deserve the name, but it will have to do. You will also look happy and act happy. There is only one emotion you are now allowed to feel. That is pain. Sadness, anger, depression, excitement and love. You will not feel them, because you do not deserve them. You murderer." So that is what happened. They moved to a new town, were he was introduced to the class as 'Mathew'. He looked happy and acted happy. But inside he felt nothing but pain. Funny enough, this had a weird effect. Whenever he saw someone in pain, it was like their emotions were loaded onto him. One day, he saw a girl crying alone in the classroom, and he thought: "One day, I will go to hell, because I killed my brother. I have sinned greatly. But I wonder, if I was to help this girl, would I be able to go to hell, knowing that I did some good. Even though it doesn't make up for my sins?" So he went in, and comforted her. And soon, he became a kind of saint in the school. "But no matter who I help, no matter what others think of me. It will not change the fact that I am a murderer. I cannot be sad, angry, depressed or excited. There is no love in me, there is only pain." She had listened to all of this. Plainly and fairly. And had this is say. "Jonathan-" "My name is not Jonathan." "Yes it is." They looked at each other stubbornly. She continued. "Jonathan. You sit to the left of me, a couple of seats ahead. I know nearly every expression on your face. I have seen you over the years, and there is no way that you do not feel sadness, anger, depression or excitement. I do not know about love...." He turned away from her, again looking at the sunset. "This is not right. I do not think you are a murder, but even if you were. Even if you had killed Mathew with you bare hand. I would still love you. Even if I didn't love you, I would think that you have received a punishment to hard for anyone to bare. Listen to me Jonathan. You have payed your debt. So why are you still in your shackles? You have felt pain, just like Mathew asked you to; You have worn the name Mathew, just like your father asked you to. I will now come." She walked over to him and grabbed his wrist. "And I will release you from your shackles. You are now free." He looked at her in amazement and disbelief. "LISTEN EVERYONE! JONATHAN IS NOW FREE!" She shouted to the world. "Jonathan is now free." She told him. He looked at her and smiled, love in his eyes. "Thank you Anna."

[shortstorytelling]

Mathew

In a typical high school classroom, a girl looked over at Mathew. She looked at him with the most curious expression on her face. It was almost as though she was gazing a the most beautiful painting in the world, it was something that she had seen many times before, so the initial shock was gone, but there were still new things to search for. Because every time she looked at Mathew, she saw something new there. She was sure that she knew him the best in the entire world. "You really love him don't you?" Her friend was suddenly in front of her, obviously watching her watching Mathew. The girl blushed and nodded, looking at her feet in embarrassment. He friend laughed and said "You better be careful though. You're not the only one after him." This was true. Everybody knew and loved Mathew. Smart, handsome and friendly. He was the kind of guy that would help everybody no matter what, always making sure other people were happy, even if it meant sacrificing himself. He empathised more than anybody ever could. Even she, had once been bullied and unaccepted by her classmates. But Mathew had become her friend, and now she had lots of friends. She was eternally grateful. She flushed with determination, adjusted her glasses, took a novel out of her bag and went over to him. Mathew had been staring out of the window, ignorant to her gazing. It actually took him a moment for him to realise she was standing in front of his desk. When he noticed, he smiled and greeted her. He had a beautiful smile. "Umm... I- I wanted to give this to you." She stammered, as she held out the book. "Oh thank you! I sure I'll enjoy it, and I'll give it back as soon as I'm finished." "You- You can keep it for as long as you want." "Thank you." There was a slight pause. She desperately tried to think of something to talk about. "Sorry, one of the pages is starting to fall out. My sister borrowed it and didn't treat it very well." She stated with casual annoyance in her voice. Mathew turned and looked at her, there was a look in his face that she had never seen before, and she wondered if she had said something wrong. But then he smile and said, "I didn't know you had a sister." "Yeah, she's- umm- a couple of years under than us...." Again she tried to think of something to say. "You don't have any siblings do you Mathew." She stated. Sure that she knew everything about him. Sure that this was a safe conversation. "I had a brother." She looked at him in surprise. He was wearing a look of regret on his face, like he said something her shouldn't have. "He was my twin. But he died, a long time ago." The only thing she could think to say was "Sorry" "It's alright. It happened a long time ago." Giving her a reassuring smile. She decided to leave him. As she made her way home thought "Do I know anything about Mathew? Does anybody know anything about Mathew?". A couple of days later, she gathered the courage to ask him something: "Could we walk home together today?" On the way home, they walked in silence for a while. He started conversation this time. "I'm really enjoying the book you gave me." "Really?" She blushed, "Yeah. It's quite sad though." "Yes it is." There was an awkward pause. She decided to take this opportunity and say, "About what you said the other day...." "Hmm?" "About your brother..." He sated at the ground in silence. The said "It's nothing. Please don't worry about it. Like I said, it happened a long time ago." She remained silent, waiting for him to continue. "His name was Jonathan. He died when we were eleven." "Were you close?" "Very." "How did he die?" Mathew went back to staring at the ground, and she decided to tell him her true feelings. "Listen Mathew. I love you." She took a deep breath, and continued. "I have always loved you. You help everybody, you are kind to everybody. There is nothing you wouldn't do to help somebody. When I was all alone, you reach out to me. You know everything about me. I know that you would sacrifice yourself if it meant that somebody else didn't get hurt. Even if they were the worst person in the world. But sometimes I think, Who helps Mathew? Who would sacrifice themselves for Mathew? Then I realised something. I don't know anything about you. That makes me sad because I love you so much and I didn't even know you had a brother. Something as simple as that and I didn't even know." Tears started to fall from her eyes, but she didn't bother to wipe them off. Instead she looked to him. He was staring off into the sunset. Thinking. At last he turned to look at her. "I killed him." "Huh?" "I killed him. I killed my brother. Jonathan." "No you didn't." He looked at her intent and said "I'm not capable of love. The only emotion I am capable of is pain. But although I cannot love you. I will tell you my story. Only you. As thank you for your feelings."

[shortstorytelling]

Jonathan and Mathew

"Jonathan and Mathew" a mother stated. Did she prefer one to the other? Of course not. She never would. Neither would the father. Everybody loved the twin boys the same. That is exactly why this story is so sad. Five years later, there was a garden party at the family house. The two boys were identical and inseparable. They played in the corner of the garden, looking for bugs, being their mischievous selves. While digging, a worm wiggled in between Mathew's fingers, slimy and rubbery, it slithered up his hand. Mathew cried out loud in fear, he shook his arm around like a mad man, wailing and sobbing. He would always be sensitive like that. Then he felt his brothers embrace, his hand on the back of his head, stroking it while saying "It's okay, it's okay... You're okay". Mathew cried into his brother's shoulder, thankful that he had his older brother to protect him. The garden was a rectangular shape, the bottom quarter of it was patio, the rest was perfectly trimmed grass. On the patio, mother had set up small garden tables and chairs, where guests ate tea and cake. Mother was a gentle spirited, you could say Mathew took after her, for she was very sensitive. But on the other hand she had a brilliant smile, and could immediately light up the room. The boys loved to lay their heads on her lap (Jonathan on the right, Mathew on the left) as she sang her lullabies to them. One might compare her to a flowerbed. This is the only way to really describe her, soft, beautiful and natural. She served tea to father, who sat on one of the tables, pretending to read a large newspaper. What he was really doing was observing the boys. Father was a righteous and stern man. There's nothing wrong with that; everybody has their morals and policies. Maybe he could be a little too strict. But inside, he really loved his wife and sons. On the inside, he might have been as soft as her. When the boys went to school, they wore matching outfits. They walked, hand in hand, chatting casually along the way. Over the years, Jonathan had become rather protective of his younger brother. He felt the responsibility of being the oldest, and thought that if Mathew came into any harm, it would be his fault. This responsibility was not taken on unwillingly or forcefully, in fact Jonathan took it on himself. While walking down the street on their way to school, there was a sudden noise- it was probably a cat- and Jonathan went into a protective stance in front of Mathew, while Mathew cowered behind him. He had big, watery eyes, which looked at the world with fear, and at his brother with admiration. In school they were constantly together. Jonathan was willing to let children play with them, but as soon as Mathew became uncomfortable, he sent them away.While watching them you could almost see a aura around them, an aura of happiness and brotherhood. But they came for him. Invisible creatures that slithered onto Mathew, crawling up his lags and arms. They whispered in his ear "Your not as good a him". Once they muttered these disgusting lies they would wriggle their way into his ear, and feast inside his body until they found his heart. There, they wrapped themselves round and tightened like rope. Poor Jonathan, how could he protect his brother against something that he could see? Something that didn't exist? That's right, the only person who saw them was Mathew. They didn't exist. Nobody compared them. Nobody thought Mathew to be inferior. If only he had just talked to someone, whether it be his brother, mother or father, they would have surely been able to get rid of these lies. But Mathew didn't tell anyone about them. Instead, he let the parasites slowly eat him away. And then at eleven years old, Jonathan walked into their room, and finally saw the ropes that had taken Mathew. There was also a letter. "Dear Jonathan, We have always been together, but now we will separate. But before I say goodbye I want to tell you my true feelings. I hate you. I was always below you, you were always better than me. You were born as a human, I was born as your shadow, nothing more. I know that our parents loved you more, I know that our friends loved you more, I know everybody loved you more. I know the truth. I have one last wish. I want you to feel pain. You owe me this, because you were the one to kill me. Goodbye. Mathew."