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No New Topic Until July 3: Please Don't Submit Entries

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6/17/2008 / Short Stories

Ive always envied my elder brother. He was the King of the Class. He was the Prom King. In fact, he was king of practically everything. Everything came so easily to him and everything was easy for him.

I know everyone has different ways of understanding everything that revolves around their lives. Well, I have a formula, too.

There are 4 kinds of people in this world.

1. People who dont have to work, and end up famous anyway.
2. People who work really, really hard, and end up famous because they deserved it.
3. People who work really, reaaaaaaaaaaaaaalllly hard, and dont end up being famous.
4. People who dont work at all, and end up being a nobody.

My brother is probably right up there with the people who dont have to work, and end up famous anyway. I lie somewhere in between the third and fourth class. I guess you understand how overshadowed my life is.

I always envied my brother. But the thing I envied him most was how he could just slip into someones birthday party, not knowing anyone besides the host and the hosts parents. But at the end of the day, he leaves the party and leaves his name on every girls heart and every guys potential best buddy list.

Every time I watched my brother leave the house for a party. And every time, I wistfully wished to have had inherited his charm and charisma instead of my own timidity.

If you havent guessed already, I am the boy who sits in the middle of No Mans Land in the middle of a bustling party, and gets more than his fair share of piteous glances from the hosts parents, wondering how their son/daughter ever got to know such a timid, nervous boy.

However, I prided myself in one thing. From young, my writing skills always won over my brothers. Sure, he could verbally string up words I could have but conjured in my brain to put down on paper or behind the computer screen.

When I got mad, I wrote about it in my journal. When I was dissatisfied I complained about it on my blog. When I was sad, I wrote poems with all my heart and soul. When I was in love, I

Well, you see, I never was in love. But it sounded potentially lyrical and harmonious with the rest of what Ive said, so I had to type it down.

If.

If I ever was in love, Id

Id write a story.

Id write a story so long, and so happy, that Ill never ever want to end. Id write about how I found her. How I had the courage to ask her out. How she squealed in delight and said, Yes, yes! YES! And how Id be grinning from ear to ear. And how Id be beetroot all over.

Id probably have to stop for meals and toilet breaks and school and all that stuff. Id stop to take her for a lovely meal on Valentines Day. But Id never forget to continue that story. And once Ive finished, Ill submit it for a writing competition.

It might take who knows? Days? Months?

In fact, I hope the topic of the writing conversation (supposing it wasnt up to the participants) would be Love. Because Love would be the perfect title for my story. It would suit every sentence Id come up with. Each paragraph would complement my story as the Best Love Story of All Time.

And she would be my inspiration.

I would be the best husband ever lived. I would never get drunk or get rowdy and all that. But Id be fun all the same. I might still be a little timid, but shell help me get out of my shell. You know. Gain some charisma. Some confidence to face the world and seize the day, carpe diem, that sort of thing.

My brother might have many girlfriends in his lifetime, with all his popularity and all. But I would only need that one girl to fall in love with for the rest of my life.

She doesnt have to be pretty. She doesnt have to wear make up all the time and pretend shes someone shes not. Shell just be the perfect inspiration in life with all her natural beauty. Because stories can only be conjured by true inspirations in life. You could always make up a story in life, but you can only tell a truly beautiful story when youve met something or someone truly beautiful in life.

And one of these truly beautiful people will become my wife.

And then I will be the happiest man ever lived.

I would even stop counting how many horse-riding trophies my brother has won and compare them to how many writing awards Ive won.

I will be most content with just being me, and having her.

I havent actually thought of how I should end the story, you know. I could end it with a big bang for my readers and write how we got married in Mexico, or how I proposed. That could be interesting. Or, you know, the kids. How our eldest daughter would dream to win the Pulitzer Prize. How our eldest son would dream to be the next President. I could also end it with how we lived the rest of our lives and were buried side-by-side in our graves.

Havent really thought about it yet, but Ill come to the end soon enough.

It will be a wonderful story one meant for all ages. One that people will smile at and comment What a lovely story. They must have really been in love to make it all happen.

Id have teenagers recognize me on the street, and ask me for alkjsfdh

----------

Greg? Greg!

Oh! Nancy. You startled me.

Well, Ive been calling you since forever. What on earth are you doing hiding in the attic?

Well. You know. Stuff.

Stuff. Right. I dont believe you. Let me see what youve got on your computer.

Its secret.

Greg Andrew Woods. I didnt marry you for twenty-three years to have you in the attic looking up secrets, which I cant know of. Let me see what youve got there.

Alright, alright Its just its just a story.

Oh! How sweet. I never knew you wrote stories you didnt seem as if you were of the writing type. Debbies raring to go for her swim team practice Brandons waiting in the yard for you to coach him for football. And dont forget youve got a big day tomorrow Twenty thousand teenagers needing some words of inspiration from the CEO of the most prestigious company in the country and Ive really got to go do some grocery shopping Wait Greg. This story. Is it about us? Oh, it is about us! Greg, you darling.

I told you it was a secret. Err it was supposed to end with the word autograph but I kinda hit some random keys by accident when I heard you calling me.

Well, well. Is it for some sort of writing competition? Are you thinking of the FaithWriters Writing Challenge the one my mother mentioned yesterday?

Actually, yes.

Well, did you check for the topic before you wrote this article? I remembered they had Love as the topic a couple of weeks back.

I didnt check. Writing can be you know. Spontaneous. According to my mood. Now, did you say Brandons waiting for some coaching? I better get right down

Aw, come on, Greg. Dont pretend. I know youre dying to finish this and submit it up.

As a matter of fact, I am.

Well, what are you waiting for? Come on See, here. Ive opened up the site for you. Now all you have to do is copy and paste and the whole world will have access to What? No New Topic Until July 3: Please Don't Submit Entries? Unbelievable! Thats a whole year away!

Really?! Let me see that.

Well. Oh, dear. Im so sorry, Greg.

You know, its okay. It means Ive got more time to discover the ending so that I can write a better account of it.

Oh, Greg.

Well, Ive got to get to Brandon. You had some grocery shopping to do, you mentioned?

Oh, Greg.

Yes, Nancy.

Its all true then?

Yes, dear.

I never knew you used to be a timid boy. I never even knew you had this silent sibling rivalry going on with Nick. You guys seem so chummy together.

Ahh. And I never knew I was going to fall in love someday with the love of my life.

Oh, Greg.

You know. I have just thought of an ending to the story.

Oh, Greg.

It will end with a dance. You know how stories are like an endless flow of words. Love is like a slow and steady dance. The guy has his hands around the girls waist. And yes, yes, youve got the girls role exampled nicely.

Oh, Greg.

I love you, too, Nancy.

THE END.

Florence Foong is a romanticist, an idealist and has found true love in Christ. In the meantime, she spends her days waiting patiently for her knight in silver armor to sweep her off her feet. She also plays the guitar in church and studies Medicine.

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