Second Short Story - John's race

John loved running. He was just a high school guy but running was his passion. Every day after school, practice would be waiting for him and that never changed. No matter what else changed, running was a constant that never left his side. Each day as the school day winded down, with every period that passed, he’d find himself counting the hours, then the minutes, until practice began. Then when the bell rang after the last period, John would grab his gear from his locker with a smile on his face and he’d join his team.

Practice was always something that he loved. It might have been a long relaxing run where the team visited somewhere fun. They could have gone somewhere that had quick food or somewhere with a great view. They could have gone somewhere historic like Buckingham fountain or Soldier Field. No matter where they went, they always took the most creative and unnecessary roads and discovered the best corners and crevices of the city.

If it wasn’t a long run, then practice would be a workout, which wasn’t always a bad thing. Sure, it hurt, but this was why practice was called practice. John could push himself during a workout and he would have the option to keep pushing or to maintain or slow down, just like during a race. A runner gets to practice racing in workouts. However besides from the experience, there are so many more rewards. There is always the best water anyone has ever tasted right after a hard workout. In case that best water anyone has ever tasted isn’t good enough, there is sweeter than a spoonful of sugar Gatorade alongside thick and gooier than 18th century soup protein shakes. All of this could have been enjoyed on a comfortable table with a snack or two and a few ice bags in aching spots, but only after a workout.

John knew what the purpose of practice was. He knew that it was to get him prepared for his big day. And when his big day finally came around, he was losing his mind. It had been months of practice up to this point and just a few minutes of running would determine whether or not it was all a success or a failure. He knew that he had to make those few minutes count so he prepared days in advance. He drank tons of water and didn’t eat anything too unhealthy. He tried to get plenty of sleep and ate a few plates of pasta the day before the race. Now that race day was here, there was nothing left to do but run.

John warmed up as he’d done a thousand times before and put his racing spikes on. His name was called and he jogged over to the start line. Everything was set and everyone was quiet for the start. Then the official shot the gun and everyone went pouring out. John tried to get to the front and hold on. He stayed in his lane until the first curve then when he was able to cut into the first and best lane. He looked around a second and, surveying the competition, he saw that there was a small group already in the first lane and he integrated in. The pace didn’t seem to be slowing but that was fine with him.

The group, now dwindled to three people, had finished the first lap and John had managed to hold on. He kept staring at the back of the jersey of the first guy and didn’t lost sight. Halfway through the second lap, he saw that the other two guys were starting to speed up. There’s the move, he thought. At that moment, he had to decide whether or not he would dig deep into himself to find something worth running for, or if he’d just maintain this pace through the finish. He peeked behind himself quickly and saw that no one else was nearby.

John chose to go with the group and he pushed until the very end. As he crossed the finish line, he knew that he’d given it his all. He almost fell over but managed to shake his competitors’ hands as he walked away. He went back to camp and fell over. Today had been a success. The months of hard work had been worth it. John smiled.

Third Short Story - A night at camp

The group had been planning for the camping trip for a while before it actually happened. The date was set in the middle of July when it was sweltering hot so that they could get away from the heat. It would be a nice retreat for a group of friends who liked having each other’s company.

There was Sam,
Jack, Sarah, George, and Katie. They had all been friends since elementary
school and had just graduated high school. They wanted to do something
different and fun before everyone went off to their different colleges and
Sarah had the idea of camping. Everyone else seemed to like it so they made it
happen.

The group drove
in Jack’s pickup to the camping site with all of their gear in the back early
in the morning. They arrived at the site and left the truck in the lot.
Carrying their gear, they ventured into the forest with the sun still above
their heads. They trekked for about half an hour before deciding that they had
found the perfect spot.

They established
camp and set up the tent. They put some stones together in a circle and made
that the campfire. Sam and Jack went out into the forest and picked up some
long logs to use as seats. They brought them over to the site of the fire. Then
they brought over some small twigs and dry sticks and put together a pile
within the stones. Katie took out her matches and started to get a fire going.

The group climbed a few trees and ended up exploring the forest for the rest of the day. They found a lake a few miles off of their camp site and swam for about an hour. After finding some berries that were edible, they headed back to camp. The sun was setting and the air was getting colder than before. With the fire getting brighter, the group sat around on the logs surrounding the fire and fed it with small twigs of their own. They relaxed and talked for a little while.

Before they knew it, it was pitch black everywhere outside of the range of the fire. They ate the dinner that they had previously packed and started to make their dessert. They originally wanted to eat smores but George had forgotten the crackers so they decided to just roast marshmallows. Then Sarah had the idea of telling scary stories. George wanted to go first.

He began by telling a story about a headless horseman. The horseman had been raised from birth to be a knight and was a part of a noble family. However once he grew up, he became corrupted from the temptation of easy money. He began to sell out knighthoods and as he grew in wealth, he gained more power. He became the king’s right hand man and was appointed the general of the nation’s army. One day, there was a large invasion by the enemy and the horseman had to lead his army into battle. He gathered his men and attacked the enemy’s camp. They came out on top but his soldiers wanted a new general. The horseman had publically cut out a man’s tongue for getting stabbed and not continuing the good fight. His soldiers cut off his head in a public manner and chose one worthy among themselves to be the new general. The now headless horseman rides through the darkest part of night in forests everywhere and cuts out the tongue of those who are unsuspecting.

As soon as George finished telling the story, the group heard a gargled scream and turned around. They found a trough of tongues right behind them and screamed themselves. They all ran away except for George. He waited a second before a hooded stranger came out of the shadows. He high fived him and said “nice job man, we got them real good.” Then the stranger stabbed George and cut out his tongue. While George lay on the ground bleeding out, the stranger took off his hood. There was nothing underneath the hood!

First Short Story (The hunters)

Jack arrived home and ran to the kitchen. He opened the door and struggled to close it. He turned to his mother and said “They’re here.” She turned, opened the drawer and took out a pistol. “Go tell your father,” she said and began to leave the room. “I’m not leaving you” he said and left the room with her. “Now is not the time, you need to go” she said with tears filling her eyes. Jack hugged her and left the house.

He ran to the barn and knocked on the side door. No one came. He started to pound the door and a man opened it. Jack came inside and shut the door. “They’re here dad. They’re here and mom doesn’t want me with her,” he said. All that his father said was “good” as he climbed the stairs to the second floor. He opened the floorboard and took out a shotgun and flare gun. He tossed his son the flare gun and loaded the shotgun. Then he sat in a chair in the middle of the barn, able to see both ends. He looked at his son and told him “Your turn.”

Jack opened the side door and left. He went into an open field and crouched down. He blended in with his white clothing. The hunters came in their snowmobiles. There were three of them wearing black snowsuits. They liked to stand out. They walked up to the house and knocked on the front door. The mother opened and let them in. Jack crept to their snowmobiles and cut a piece of wiring in each one. Then he crept back to the open field. He waited for a while crouched down.

Then his mother came to the kitchen window and opened the curtains. There’s the signal, Jack thought, it’s time to go. He stood and pointed his flare gun up. Then he pulled the trigger and hundreds of blinding red sparks shot threw the silent white bed of snow. The shriek of the flares was the perfect catalyst.

Jack saw his father throw open the window on the second floor of the barn. He rested his shotgun on the ledge aiming at the kitchen door. One of the men in black opened that door. Bam. The hunter fell back dead. The door was slammed shut and someone screamed. Jack ran to the house. He heard his father yell but ignored him. He kicked the door in and halted. The hunter stood behind his mother with a gun pointed at her head. He said “They already know,” and stuck the pistol in his own mouth. Bam. He collapsed dead.

“I’m so sorry. He took it away from me,” she said. Jack ran to his mother and hugged her tightly. His father walked in and looked at the body. “What are we going to do dad?” “We’re going to survive. We’re a family, we will get through this,” he said. His father handed him another flare. “Let’s move these. They won’t waste any time. Then get ready again.” Jack nodded and obeyed.

A Principle to Keep

The principle that I believe should always be kept by people is the principle of humanity. Although The Road defined staying humane as not resorting to chaos and animal instinct, I believe that it is much more than that. In the world today, the circumstances aren't nearly as dire as during the apocalypse and therefore the definition of humanity can be extended further. Keeping humane means lending a hand when needed. It means not assuming the worst when meeting a stranger and being open to what they have to say. It means not ever having to resort to measures like thievery and murder because you know that there is help for any problem you may have next door. Keeping humane means being a good person as often as possible because there is absolutely no reason to be a bad one. It is inevitable that there will be plenty of disputes and disagrees among people everywhere, but there is always a solution without resorting to pointless bloodshed. The solution will certainly not be what either party envisioned at the start, but it will be a compromise on both ends. It will be a compromise for the greater good and it will be attained through humane means.

There is a certain intangible thing that connects every single human being together. Some call it a heart or a soul and others call it a conscience. Whatever it is called, it is the thing that makes being humane so much easier than being cruel and primitive. It can be ignored and defied but only with ill will, malevolence, and practice. I believe that man is truly good if pushed to his limit and as a result, will find it difficult to be unkind to others. And because of this it seems pointless and just wrong to let go of one’s humanity. When a person maintains their humanity through whatever they may face, great things happen. When the whole world maintains its humanity throughout it’s history, miracles happen.