#storywithinastory

[allnovellas]

Writing a Story as a Companion to Your Novel

Imagine finishing your novel after countless hours of painstaking work. The characters, the plot, the setting – everything has come together. But what if there’s more to tell? What if there are tales within the story that are begging to be explored further? Have you considered penning a companion story to complement your novel and add depth to your narrative universe? Let’s dive into the…

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[mander-moo]

Vulnerable Memoir of The Unnameless

Section Z

It was the summer after my high school graduation. I’m laying on my zebra print comforter contrasted with the black and purple paint coating the walls in my room while blasting The Pretty Reckless’s new album “Going to Hell”. My phone chimes and a smirk forms on my lips, catching me off guard. “Long Day and I’m exhausted but it’s your last night in town, I’m coming over. ” In a panic, I scour my room picking up lose clothes, soda cans, and random guitar picks. My hands start to shake. “What is happening? I feel like I’m going to faint.” my inner voice yells making my ears ring. There a calmness in my head when I look at phones Lock Screen background, but my heart rate spikes. “I really need to lay off the energy drinks.” I finish picking up and grab my guitar. Plucking away at the strings letting my feeling flow through my fingers into the vibrations with every chord. I forget where I am and lose myself in between the beats somewhere.

A snap back to reality when a tender and all to familiar voice pokes its head through the door frame “Heyooo” and my body is met with a crashing force of sheer euphoria as the recognition lingers it way down my spine. “Hey Z!” The next thing I know I’m tackled and devoured in a hug. It had been a minute since I last saw Z.

After I graduated it seemed my time with everyone was becoming less and less as I prepared to take the freshman plunge into college. The hug lasted for moment. “I missed you and I have so much to tell you!” Z whispered as they pulled out of our embrace. “Missed you too Z, so what’s new?” We carried on our conversation discussing our disdain for our jobs, any boys that tried to come our way, and what our lives were going to be like once the first semester started.

You see, Six months ago I made the decision to leave my nest, flap my wings, and try to fly on my own. I chose to attend a college 4 hours away from everything I was comfortable with.

“We have to stay in touch and make plans to visit all the time”. Z mumbled.

I could hear the sorrow in their voice. “I promise I’m always going to be here. I’m just a phone call or a several hours away”.

“I know. Me too.”

I looked at Z and felt a pit form in my stomach. “What am I doing? I should just stay.” I thought to myself.

“I know what you’re thinking A.. you need to do this. I want you to do this. The last 10 months have been absolutely incredible and although I wish you could be closer so that we could continue, I am so immensely proud and happy you’ll get to have this experience.”

I nodded my head knowing full well they are more stubborn than I am, but something still felt wrong.

We continued the night laughing and singing along to Smile by Uncle Cracker dancing around making the most of the time we had. There were faint interruptions from my mother laughing at us and making some half assed statement about us acting like children again.

Exhaustion set in and we collapsed on my bed. I laid on my back and shut my eyes. Z laid next to me humming along to the music in the background. Their eyes looked heavy. They scurried away from the edge of bed. Ultimately closer to me, but I know that wasn’t the intention. It was a full size bed. We had fallen off the edge before. They nestled into their place and I ran my fingers up and down their back feeling the grooves on their spine. All the while they faded into their dreams. I could only imagine the dreams Z had with how their mind worked in such a brilliant a beautiful way. We fell asleep that way.

A few hours later, we woke up in the mood for some Hagen Daz. We headed to the store. The drive was quiet. I stared out the window tracing the stars with my fingertips. I knew we’d stay in touch and everything would be fine, but I couldn’t shake this feeling that I needed to cherish this night even though I was dreading the goodbye at the end. The mood changed as soon as we got out of the car. I took off running to the nearest shopping cart. My feet never cooperating attempted to do a two step that turned into a 3 step tumble. Many called me clumsy.

The rest of our shopping trip we spent reminiscing over all the inside jokes and giggles shared. We rummaged through the store, snacks galore, Z pushing me around in the cart. They always knew how to embrace my inner child.

When we got back to my place we settled down on the living room couch. Lights off, nothing but the tv screen illuminating off our frail skin. As much as my mom enjoyed having Z around we were notorious for making our nighttime rendezvous stretch out, so she said goodnight and told Z to not be a stranger In my absence. My family always embraced my friendship with Z.

“My family really does love you. You know?”

I said as I melted into the couch.

“I’m just me, but I’m glad they like me”.

I can’t quite remember what we watched that night, but I could take a safe bet it had something do with angsty teen dramatics or an extremely intuitive British detective. We always bonded through the pop culture we immersed ourselves in. Music, books, tv shows, movies… our latest celebrity crush.. it was all up for conversation and we could have gone on for hours on one of those matters alone.

The night lingered on and I dropped my head falling into an ice cream induced slumber. I don’t know how long Z let me sleep that night. It was a miracle I ever got any sleep those days. Insomnia-tic episodes were running rampant while I was riddled with anxiety about my departure. Z always let me sleep.. always knew exactly what I needed.

I woke up that night to Z gently tapping my shoulder. “A, you should really get some sleep in real bed. You have a long drive ahead of you tomorrow.” Just then I felt my heart shatter into tiny fragments. The sharp edges tearing into my skin from the inside out. A sadness overcame me that I had yet to encounter.

“You don’t get to feel this way… you don’t feel this way.” My subconscious muttered over and over again.

Still, the shards made my skin burn. My once dreary state now encroached under a blanket of remorse for what I would eventually miss. A harsh realization that I didn’t not want the night to end, but with a mere glance I could see Z was on their last leg of energy and suddenly all my worry shifted from myself to making sure they would get home in one piece. I smirked at Z “I think we both need some rest.”

We made our way out to the driveway and stopped just short of Z’s car. We both knew what was coming next and with blatant disregard to our sheer exhaustion we climbed into the car without a word spoken. Z turned on their car, plugged in an old IPOD and scrolled vicariously through the playlist. We both know what we needed to send the night off.

So many memories, they’re all so bittersweet

So many avenues back to where we were

“Hey Z, thanks for tonight. I don’t know what I’m going to do without you out there. I’m the lucky one.”

“You’re going to make everyone so proud. You already have. I hope this brings you all the happiness and success you deserve and I hope I’m there by your side to see it all happen. One day when we are racing wheel chairs in the nursing home, we will look back on this a know we did exactly what we needed to do. I love you A and I’m going I miss the shit out of you.”

“I love you too Z. Thank you for everything.”

Words lingering as they parted from my lips.

“The fuck is going on with me?” My inner thoughts banging in my head like a Slip Knot drum solo.

We sat there for a moment avoiding the inevitable. The silence was never awkward for us. We just sat there. We didn’t need to speak anymore. We had said everything we needed to say and anything we might have wanted to add the other could pick up on it with just a look. After a few minutes, it was time to go. We said our peace and clung to our see you laters. I climbed out the car and watched the red hue of Z’s taillights flood the streets and nearby houses. That fainting feel I had earlier in the day returned without a second thought. My heart and mind pleaded with my legs to chase after the red glow in the night, but it was as if my muscles had petrified and I was frozen in place.

My heart decided something in that night and it wasn’t until months later that my mind fully understood what that was.

[getreadofme]

This is Ira Levingson letting go of his wife Ruth Levingson - the woman he loved the most. 💔😭 Dear Gents, Learn from him. Don’t just break someone else’s heart. #TheLongestRide #storywithinastory #NicholasSparks #ChewableLines (at San Raymundo Balungao Pangasinan) https://www.instagram.com/p/B2q1TcJhbsYy4hjzp5k5KFPDI1Z07MNs87_PZ80/?igshid=a26ndv1zu0q4

[littlelibrarystoryteller]

Melodies and machines

A frail figure is faffing around the photocopier, and at first glance it’s clear to see he’s struggling.  I go over,

               “Do you need any help?”

He comes across a little aggressive, “I want it bigger, and it won’t print out properly!  It’s chopping off the edges of the words!”  As usual the blame is pushed onto an inanimate object that always does exactly what you tell it to.

               “Let me help you out.”  I gently take the book out of his trembling fingers, and push the override key into the slot on the side of the machine.  I press a couple of options and the innards whirr into life.

               I glance over him with an appraising eye.  He is elderly, but it is unclear just what age he is.  The aggression could be down to senility, grumpiness, or just a bad day.  But as the pages land in the tray and I show them to him, sunshine comes out over his face.  The wrinkles crinkle and he is gleeful.

               “Do you know what this is, my dear?”

               I can tell the script across the page is some sort of language, but have absolutely no knowledge on the subject - it could be Aramaic or Hebrew, or anything in between.  It seems to be backwards, that’s all I know.

               He waves my ignorance away, “They are songs, my dear! Songs I have sung since I was small.”

               He pulls the book out and shows me each page reverently, though he could be showing me just about anything. “They are songs to celebrate the holy days, the festivals.  Look here! Do you see this one.  Do you know what it says?”

               I have to admit, I haven’t a clue.

               “Listen to this…”

               The library is fairly quiet this afternoon, and the old man’s wavering voice penetrates the dusty shelves and the listless readers and visitors. People glance over faintly curious.  He sings to me, a couple of songs from his old precious book.  He explains what each song is for, for various special Jewish days, and no longer is he a grumpy, fraught, incompetent old man who has no idea what technology is.  There is always something to do, but for once, it is important to listen to him.  It is important to take the time to give him the respect and the attention that he should have.  He is a rare old creature.  I don’t know many people who would be so enthusiastic about something that they love, that they would demonstrate it, willingly and without embarrassment to a complete stranger.

               He tells me with pride that his son can read and speak Hebrew too, as well as many other languages.  I tell him I wish I could speak more than one.  He tells me that if he were a younger man he would take me on a date, then laughs and assures me he is joking  “I’m ninety, you know!”.  He seems eager to tell me more, but the phone starts to ring and I have to go.  He thanks me for my time, but somehow it feels that he has paid me back more than equally for the privilege of hearing his story. 

[chachic]

These illustrations were a pleasant surprise. #TheBookThief #MarkusZusak #StoryWithinAStory