The Story Teller

I'm one of the 1% of men who thinks different. If you like my posts don't forget to follow me on tumblr.I’m antisocial, yet social. I don’t talk to people first, but when someone talks to me first I’m up for talking to them. Some days I’ll be really talkative and friendly and other days I’m just in my shell like nah today ain’t the day for socializing.I'm comfortable with readin' books and writtin' my short stories.

[candicekellyxo]

I just want some time.

[ultradilan]

If my future wife can be exactly like her I’ll be so blessed. I won’t need anything from God 👌🙏🤝

[ultradilan]

We all have a pain. A pain so black and so dark and so rough to the touch. Yet we cannot face this pain, not alone. A pain like this, that requires a change, is not fixed alone. A darkness this black cannot be washed away by using the same dirty hands that once held it. It must be cleaned by fresh hands; hands that have never held this darkness before. Hands that, though they may have their own darkness, have never cleaned this one. As it was once said by a wise old man, “Sometimes to fix your own problems, you have to help someone else.” So, please understand, that when he or she understands that you are hurting and want to run away, but they never dare to say, “to hell with you. I’m leaving.” Do not be afraid to let them clean. Because even if you wish to fight this evil alone, you won’t be able to see the way until they wipe away the black goo covering your eyes.

[ultradilan]

A First Cyber Bullying Story by Dilan Williams In what is considered one of the first cyber bully stories, the perpetrator was not a naive kid who may not have known better, nor was the bully an anonymous Internet troll that was just acting cruel. The bully in this story was a 49-year old mother in Missouri, and the person being bullied was a teenager on MySpace, one of the first social media sites to gain popularity and wide-spread use. The first of the two sad bullying stories below showcases that bullies do not all come from the same walks of life. His name was Josh Evans. He was 16 years old. And he was hot. "Mom! Mom! Mom! Look at him!" Tina Meier recalls her daughter saying. Josh had contacted Megan Meier through her MySpace page and wanted to be added as a friend. Yes, he's cute, Tina Meier told her daughter. "Do you know who he is?" "No, but look at him! He's hot! Please, please, can I add him?" Mom said yes. And for six weeks Megan and Josh - under Tina's watchful eye - became acquainted in the virtual world of MySpace. Josh said he was born in Florida and recently had moved to O'Fallon. He was homeschooled. He played the guitar and drums. He was from a broken home: "when i was 7 my dad left me and my mom and my older brother and my newborn brother 3 boys god i know poor mom yeah she had such a hard time when we were younger finding work to pay for us after he left." As for 13-year-old Megan, of Dardenne Prairie, this is how she expressed who she was: M is for Modern E is for Enthusiastic G is for Goofy A is for Alluring N is for Neglected. She loved swimming, boating, fishing, dogs, rap music and boys. But her life had not always been easy, her mother says. She was heavy and for years had tried to lose weight. She had attention deficit disorder and battled depression. Back in third grade she had talked about suicide, Tina says, and ever since had seen a therapist. But things were going exceptionally well. She had shed 20 pounds, getting down to 175. She was 5 foot 5½ inches tall. She had just started eighth grade at a new school, Immaculate Conception, in Dardenne Prairie, where she was on the volleyball team. She had attended Fort Zumwalt public schools before that. Amid all these positives, Tina says, her daughter decided to end a friendship with a girlfriend who lived down the street from them. The girls had spent much of seventh grade alternating between being friends and, the next day, not being friends, Tina says. Part of the reason for Megan's rosy outlook was Josh, Tina says. After school, Megan would rush to the computer. Megan Meier Megan Meier was like most 13-year old girls. She was a bit boy-crazy, she wore braces, and she was insecure about her body. She also struggled with depression and ADD, but was described as a generally happy girl who enjoyed spending time with friends and family. When Megan was entering eighth grade, her parents enrolled her in a private school, hoping that the policy of uniforms and no makeup would help her fit in. At around the same time, Megan became active on MySpace, under the strict supervision of her mother, Tina. One day, an older boy named Josh Evans sent Megan a message through MySpace and they became online friends. Josh was attractive and Megan was excited to receive attention from a boy, although she never met him in person or spoke to him on the phone (Josh claimed that he did not own a cell phone and his family did not have a landline). Tina Meier says on the Megan Meier Foundation website, Megan had a lifelong struggle with weight and self-esteem. And now she finally had a boy who she thought really thought she was pretty. Unfortunately, Josh began sending Megan hurtful and mean messages. Megan became extremely upset, and although her mother told her to sign off from MySpace and stop reading the messages, Megan continued to converse with Josh. The last message Josh is believed to have sent stated, “Everybody in O’Fallon knows how you are. You are a bad person and everybody hates you. Have a shitty rest of your life. The world would be a better place without you.” After reading the message from Josh, Megan ran past her parents and up to her room, crying. Megan’s parents discussed the MySpace account with one another and made dinner until Tina had a sudden bad feeling in the pit of her stomach. Tina ran upstairs to Megan’s room to check on her daughter, and found that Megan had hung herself in the closet. Megan died the next day. Approximately six weeks after Megan’s death, it was determined that Josh Evans never existed. A fake MySpace account was created by the mother of a classmate and former friend of Megan’s who was allegedly upset about things Megan had said about her daughter. The mother contended that it was never her intention to drive Megan to suicide, despite allegedly being aware of Megan’s history of depression and self-esteem issues. The mother was never implicated in Megan’s suicide because, at the time, she had technically not broken any laws. As sad bullying stories go, Megan Meier’s story ended in tragedy.

[ultradilan]

EVERYONE HAS A STORY IN LIFE by: Dilan Williams

A 21 year old boy seeing out from the train’s window shouted… “Dad, look the trees are going behind!” Dad smiled and a young couple sitting nearby, looked at the 21 year old’s childish behavior with pity, suddenly he again exclaimed… “Dad, look the clouds are running with us!” The couple couldn’t resist and said to the old man… “Why don’t you take your son to a good doctor?”The old man smiled and said…“I did and we are just coming from the hospital, my son was blind from birth, he just got his eyes today. Every single person on the planet has a story. Don’t judge people before you truly know them. The truth might surprise you.

[ultradilan]

Appreciation of Hard Work by: Dilan Williams

One young academically excellent person went to apply for a managerial position in a big company. He passed the first interview, the director did the last interview, made the last decision. The director discovered from the CV that the youth’s academic achievements were excellent all the way, from the secondary school until the postgraduate research, Never had a year when he did not score. The director asked, “Did you obtain any scholarships in school?” The youth answered “none”. The director asked, “Was it your father who paid for your school fees?” The youth answered, “My father passed away when I was one year old, it was my mother who paid for my school fees”. The director asked, “Where did your mother work?” The youth answered, “My mother worked as clothes cleaner. The director requested the youth to show his hands. The youth showed a pair of hands that were smooth and perfect”. The director asked, “Have you ever helped your mother wash the clothes before?” The youth answered, “Never, my mother always wanted me to study and read more books. Furthermore, my mother can wash clothes faster than me”. The director said, “I have a request. When you go back today, go and clean your mother’s hands, and then see me tomorrow morning”. The youth felt that his chance of landing the job was high. When he went back, he happily requested his mother to let him clean her hands. His mother felt strange, happy but with mixed feelings, she showed her hands to the kid. The youth cleaned his mother’s hands slowly. His tear fell as he did that. It was the first time he noticed that his mother’s hands were so wrinkled, and there were so many bruises in her hands. Some bruises were so painful that his mother shivered when they were cleaned with water. This was the first time the youth realized that it was this pair of hands that washed the clothes everyday to enable him to pay the school fee. The bruises in the mother’s hands were the price that the mother had to pay for his graduation, academic excellence and his future. After finishing the cleaning of his mother’s hands, the youth quietly washed all the remaining clothes for his mother. That night, mother and son talked for a very long time. Next morning, the youth went to the director’s office. The Director noticed the tears in the youth’s eyes, asked: “Can you tell me what have you done and learned yesterday in your house?” The youth answered, “I cleaned my mother’s hand, and also finished cleaning all the remaining clothes”. The Director asked, “please tell me your feelings”. The youth said, “Number 1, I know now what is appreciation. Without my mother, there would not the successful me today. Number 2, By working together and helping my mother, only I now realize how difficult and tough it is to get something done. Number 3, I have come to appreciate the importance and value of family relationship”. The director said, “This is what I am looking for to be my manager. I want to recruit a person who can appreciate the help of others, a person who knows the sufferings of others to get things done, and a person who would not put money as his only goal in life. You are hired”. Later on, this young person worked very hard, and received the respect of his subordinates. Every employee worked diligently and as a team. The company’s performance improved tremendously.

[ultradilan]

LISTENING TO MOM SING by: Dilan Williams When I was a teenager I used to take long walks in the woods behind our home. I found it a great way to clear my head, a good way to calm my spirit, and a wonderful way to connect to something greater than myself. I cherished the peace that it gave me. As I was walking back to our house one day, I heard something that gave me even more peace than my stroll through the forest had. A window of our home was open and I could hear music playing from our old record player. Carried along on that stream of music was something I hardly ever heard too: the lovely sound of my Mother singing. Now my Mom rarely sang unless she was alone. I guess she was shy about having others hear her. She would quietly join in on the hymns at church but I could never make out her voice among all the others. This time, though, I heard her singing sweetly and softly. I didn’t want her to stop so I snuck softy up to the side of the house and sat under the open window. It was so beautiful. Her loving spirit seemed to flow through every word. I felt like I was a baby boy again listening to her lullabies and feeling safe, warm, and loved. I sat there for a long while with a smiling face and a happy heart. As I think back on that day I am reminded of the story of a boy who was weeping inconsolably because his pet canary who had sang so beautifully and brought joy to the entire family had died. His tears only stopped when a wise lady reminded him that “There are other worlds to sing in.” I know that one day in the world to come I will see Mom again and hear her sweet voice sing once more. Until then I will do my best to sing my own song here in this world. Until then I will do my best to share the love and music God gave me. May you do the same. May you make your entire life a song of love, sweet to hear and joyful to sing.

[ultradilan]

BLIND LOVE by: Dilan Williams There was a blind girl who hated herself just because she's blind. She hated everyone,except her loving boyfriend. He's always there for her.She said that if she could only see the world,she would marry her boyfriend. One day,someone donated a pair of eyes to her and then she can see everything,including her boyfriend. Her boyfriend asked her,"now that you can see the world,will you marry me?"The girl was shocked when she saw that her boyfriend is blind too,and refused to marry him. Her boyfriend walked away in tears,and later wrote a letter to her saying- "just take care of my eyes dear,I love you."

[ultradilan]

There was a time when I loved you...but feelings fade. I graduated 5th grade and you stayed behind to teach next year's class.

[ultradilan]

My body broke down on the long journey. With no spare parts available, I discarded it and continued on my quest for enlightenment.

[ultradilan]

It was the first time I had come face to face with a tree. Scared me at first. Back on Earth, trees don't have faces and they don't talk.

[ultradilan]

Today By: Dilan Williams A lot can happen in 24 hours. Yesterday I was wishing my wife a happy birthday. Today I’m standing over her lifeless body wondering what to do. Yesterday I told my wife I’d always be there for her. Today I’m holding the note in my hands, hoping she didn’t do it because of me. Yesterday I made love to her. Today I’m laying on the ground in a puddle of my own tears. Yesterday I was happy. Today I’m afraid. I’m afraid that the same thing will happen to me. I’m afraid I’ll take my life in the same way she took hers. I’m afraid of how much I am dying to see her again. Yesterday was the best day of my life, today I’m not able to live without her. Today I’m cradling her head in my lap, whispering “see you soon” into her ear. Today I’m sorry. I am so, so sorry.

[ultradilan]

Dear, girl By: Dilan Williams I'm so sorry I couldn't get your name, hell. I didn't even talk to you for that long. In that case, hi, I'm Dilan. And I'm dying. Now, you saw me do what I did, and I'm glad that I did. The bar, The creepy man, how he looked at you, and how he followed you, then grabbed you. The screams that you gave, it saddened me. After you left, I had to subdue him, make sure he didn't go after you, I knocked him out, but he won overall, he he pulled a pistol and shot right before I knocked it from his hand, but the damage was done, I was shot in the chest, I am now bleeding profusely, watching to make sure he doesn't get up. I saw you run, hopefully to get the police. I hope they get here, not to save me, I'm far from that, but to take the man away, so I'm not dead when he wakes up, kind of a final wish, eh? I'm just a 20 year old pharmacy assistant,specialist or was. I'm not anyone special, I am unnoticed among people, but that never bothered me. I m not here to be popular, or special. I also have a dog, oh no. Poor patches, will he go to the pound? No, imp want him to be with Mike, those two always shared a connection. I named him patches because of his patchwork body, it was always so cute to me, he loved to lick people, it was his thing. I am also leaving behind a ton of fucking paperwork, thank god. That is one good thing about dying, no more paperwork for my boss to tell me to do. I'm bleeding more, the wetness and warmth of my clothes is a new feeling, I'm also weaker, but my mind isn't. I'm a daydreamer, you see, I always imagined myself as a hero, or a leader of an extraordinary team of badasses! Aye, now I shall live in a dream forever, hopefully being able to be happy, with my grandpa. I wish I had have gotten the chance to know you, you are kind of cute, after all. I guess I didn't do so good, eh? After all, you just began drinking again, kind of expected, but eh, I can take a loss sometimes. I guess I could have a chance if I live, I don't expect to at all. Aye, now the blood covers my shirt, making me look like a red villain. Should I not joke about my death? Is that immoral? Aye, but it's my death. My mom is gonna be horrified by this outcome, but I saved someone today, and a good death is an honourable one. It's getting hard to write this, my hand feels like a fifty pound weight, and moving it is hard. I hear sirens, alas, you are coming, it's also getting fuzzy around here, I like it. I'm fine with it. Stop it with the bleeding, I want to spend my last few seconds, not looking like I came from the apocalypse, horrible joke, I know, sue me. Wait, you can't sue a dead person, ha! It's hard as hell to write! Aye, the police car, I see it, I totally look like a vampire, don't I? Don't lie, i see the police jumping hurdles to get to me, don't worry, I'll be fine. Sorry for not getting your name, good saving you Speaking from beyond, Dilan. P.S. Tell stitches to stop chewing on the damn furniture!

[ultradilan]

dear no one I really hope your parents and friends approve of me and like me.

[ultradilan]

dear no one I’m trying to be present and not have a wishful mindset. And I’m thankful for what I have and the season I’m in… but man, I’m so excited to start experiencing and living life with you. This week has been a great week and I wish I could’ve shared it with you.

[ultradilan]

To my future wife Mental illness sucks. I'm not proud to be the way I am. But thank you for hanging in there. Thank you for trying to understand. Thank you for not judging me ever. I couldn't have asked for a better partner. God knew I would need you.

[ultradilan]

The Indie BookStore Look | Politics & Prose

[ultradilan]

A Writer's Prayer By: Dilan Williams Let me forgive myself for the stories that are not perfect, for the scenes rushed through and the plot points fumbled, and the language less than it ought to be, and the phrases that make me wince even though no one notices but me. Let me forgive myself for the stories I didn’t write, didn’t finish, or didn’t let anyone see - because I was too busy, too lazy, too tired, too frightened, because I was living my life, or saving my life, because I was falling in love, or falling out of love, because I had run out of words, or room, or time, let me forgive myself for all those stories that live inside me and not on the page. Let me forgive myself for my failures, but also for all those times when I tallied my shortcomings instead of celebrating each small success. Let me celebrate now: not the life that I dreamed of, but the life that I have, not the stories that I dreamed of, but the stories that I’ve made, not the writer I imagined I’d one day be, but the writer that I am. And then let me keep working.