i wrote this for my current creative writng class because writing a 'real' story was too much work.
i actually like it quite a bit.
if you do too, i suggest you pick up 'smoke and mirrors,' a collection of short stories by neil gaiman. his work has influenced my writing quite a bit.
(and he writes better than i do)
(shall i begin?)
(no - i want to)
(will you tell it properly?)
(i'm telling a story)
this is a true story. this is fiction. (which one is it?) (i don't know yet - i'll decide later) this is a story about a little girl who was tuning herself inside out. (is that how you're going to phrase it?) (let me tell the story) (i could tell it better) (please let me tell it) (only until it's my turn) the little girl wasn't sure why or sometimes even how she was doing it, but she was. all the silly things like 'quiet' 'periwinkle' and 'skin' were staying inside, but other things like 'blood' 'dream' and 'glass' were making strange and sometimes sudden appearances. (what do you mean by 'glass?') (don't you remember? the day when the glass came out? when it broke into a million pieces?) (you counted?) (please don't make fun of me - i don't like it when you make fun of me) (then tell the story) (i'm trying - please) the little girl was sleeping more and more and dreaming strange things about strange people, some of whom she did not know, others that she only vaguely recognised. (more often than not lately - but you aren-t going to mention that) (shhh) (fuck you) (please stop that) (fuck you)
(fuck you - it's my turn)
this is fiction. there was a girl who didn't like things the way they were and tried to change them. there were some things she couldn't change so she built herself a citadel and when she was inside it she pretended things were different. she became very scared of everything outside the citadel and didn't like leaving it. sadly, she was a stupid little girl and the more she stayed inside the more afraid she became. (that's not true - i don't like your story) (of course it's not true - it's fiction) (i don&'t care - your story isn't pretty) (it's not supposed to be - now shut up) one day this stupid little girl whose heart had been broken by herself more often than by others (why did you have to bring that up?) (because it's my story now) (you said it was fiction) (it is) (but that's true) (it's my story) one day she (stop it stop it stop it stop it - i want the story back - you're going to say something bad) (that's my job) (no)
(it's my story now)
now, this little girl who wasn't stupid was very tired of turning herself inside out all the time. she would go to bed early and get lots of sleep. (that's not why she would go to bed early) (it's my story) (are you going to talk about her dreams again?) (no -you say bad things about them) (true things) (shhh) she dreamed about pictures. pretty ones. that she made herself. pretty pictures. (you're breaking up again)
. . .
(it hurts)
(it's supposed to)
(i don't like it)
(do you want me to tell it?)
(you won't tell it nicely)
(i can't)
(i wish you could))
(i can't)
(i'll tell it)
(let me know if it hurts too much)
(alright)
. . .
(i don't remember where i was)
(dreams)
(i don't want to talk about dreams anymore - i want to talk about nice things)
(some dreams are nice)
(i don't want to talk about dreams anymore)
(you can tell a new story if you like)
(i only know one story)
(i only know one too)
(i thought it was the same story)
(it is)
(i'm tired)
(time for bed?)
(i don't want to go to sleep yet)
(do you want to finish the story?)
(how does it end? i can't remember)
(we don't know yet)
(i hope it ends nicely)
take me back to
the beginning!!
