forum Does anybody have a sad short story?
Started by @Space group
tune

people_alt 44 followers

@Periwinkle_

So this one is more like a string of words that makes you kinda sad:

Deleted user

Everything was numb, he knew what a panic attack felt like for him and this wasn’t it.
There was no light-head, no quick breathing, everything was just… Numb.

He put his hood over his head, hoping that maybe that would warm up how cold he felt inside.

He shouldn’t be numb right now, his aunt and grandfather were about to step off the plane, they were coming to see him. But, but then he remembered, his grandfather and aunt still thought he was a girl, still thought he wore pink dresses and blue skirts.

Though he knew he never wore pink dresses, he had absolutely detested that color, it was just too bright. Oh, he was getting off-track again and there’s the panic coming.

It’s coming in waves and he can’t stop it. He can’t stop it, but he can imagine the next few days, filled with being misgendered and panic because he was working backstage at his school’s drama performance.

He didn't even know why he was writing this, it wasn’t like his therapist could read it without questions. She still thought he was a girl, too.

Everyone thought he was a girl but him, then, the numbness came back.

Soon enough, the numbness melted away.

His family wouldn’t be coming for another few hours, he was fine. The conveyor belt broke for a bit and his aunt and grandfather needed their luggage. He was okay for a few hours, then he would be back to numbness.

A few hours have passed, he felt them coming. His aunt had the habit of calling him Little Girl every time they met, she also hugged him. He didn’t like hugs, they were confining.

They were here, his aunt saying little girl in her drawling southern accent and hugging him, his grandfather giving him a small hug and then they went inside and his mind went numb again.

@Space group

It didn't make me cry but that was a good story. It dealt with a lot of the same things that keep me up at night and I enjoyed reading it, thanks for sharing it with me

@personfullofplotholes language

Lemme dig up this old piece of mine and edit it real quick…

The mountain air was dry and hot as we watched the dining hall. We were sat outside, so we could appreciate the way the sun played over the treetops, remember the beautiful place we'd spent the past few years learning together, but our eyes were focused on the windows. There were no words between us; at that moment, watching the younger students eat and talk about their next years at this school, there was no need for us to add to the chatter.

It was our last breakfast together. She ate a small mountain of eggs and french toast; I stuck with hashbrowns, my stomach a finicky thing in mornings. She had stopped pressuring me to eat better when I told her about that. We both had bags under our eyes, unable to sleep the night before graduation. Our last day.

Our last moments, before everything would be different.

That was what I remembered now, standing on stage as the hats fluttered down, the ceremony over. Our last time together, without anyone else; sitting in silence, watching ourselves move on. No tears, no words.

My family was coming up to the stage now, pulling my attention away from her, pulling me into photos without her, grabbing people who weren’t her. A lot of them were my friends, and a lot of them were crying, just as reluctant as I was to leave. I was smiling a genuine smile, but deep underneath it I felt empty. She was probably only ten feet away, the two of us always close, but I couldn't see her, and even if I had, I didn't think it would have changed that sheer emptiness, wouldn't have brought tears to my own eyes.

The last day was over. I was leaving my school, my home. I was leaving my friends. I was leaving behind the person I loved more than anyone.

Somehow we found each other again, and stood once more in silence and watched the people around us. Most of the students and teachers were crying or laughing or both, couples saying their last goodbyes or promising to visit over summer, the parents cheering and clicking their cameras. We hid in our small reprieve from the attention, in our true last moments together.

I was remembering. A year and a half ago, we became friends, the instant kind that you don't let go of. Six months later, I had gotten a crush on her. For the next nine months, I had wholeheartedly refused to acknowledge that the attraction was there. By the time I let myself feel, it was full-blown love, and had stayed that way for the next three months right up to this very moment.

She never knew. She was never more than a friend. She never needed to be anything more than that, even to me. I remembered the desire to kiss her, to confess, the urges to simply touch her in some way; and how, when I did touch her, even just fingertips to the back of her hand, how I made up lame excuses and immediately drew away. I remembered constantly monitoring everything I said, because I may have loved her but greater than that was my fear of losing her friendship. I could never lose her, for reasons I didn't care to remember.

Unbidden, she grabbed my hand on the stage and squeezed it, bringing me back to the moment. My mother was calling me to pose with my cousins; her family had to leave to catch their flight. I turned to look at her, the emptiness rising.

She breathed deeply for several moments before she finally spoke. “I’ll miss you, Emma,” she said quietly, and drew me in for one last hug.

Suddenly, I wasn’t empty; I had filled with love, and regret for never telling her. I was filled with a fierce desire to make her happy forever, at any cost. I wanted to make her understand how much she meant to me, how she had endlessly lifted my spirits, how much her trust and affection and worry over my health had helped me through the most trying year of my life. I was filled to bursting with everything I had ever felt for her, and I tried to put some of that into our last embrace. I tried to wordlessly explain how I felt and how no matter what I felt, our friendship came first. No matter how much I loved her.

A long moment passed, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't tell what, if anything, she was trying to say back to me in the way her arms held me.

Our families called us again, more friends clamoring for a chance to say goodbye. We pulled away, and without any extra words, just a wave and a smile, she walked up the hill to her family waited, unknowingly taking my heart with her.

@Oakiin

This isn't really 'sad' per-se. At least, not to me, idk how it is for others xD but I wrote it when I was really sad, so maybe some of that came through? Hope this is sort of what you ere looking for.

I am fern. I am fungus. I am a body in the forest, by the stream. The moss claims my skin, ferns unfurl in my lungs. Rot seeps across me, small mushrooms grow from the cracks. Flowers blossom in my veins, the bracken grows from my gut. My legs are logs, hiding places to keep small things safe. I rot, decay, melt back into the ground until it’s just by bone white bones. My blood in the stream, small things eating me. I nourish as I have been nourished, feed as I have been fed. The cycle is complete, no brain inside my head. Everything I’ve ever been is gone, because I’m dead, dead, dead. Etched into by skeleton is the story of my decay, small scratches, scars and breaks. The bones scatter, big things tearing them apart. As each part of me becomes part of something else, my spirit can finally sigh, leave a painful world and slip off into the sky.
I am void.
I am abyss.
I am rot.
I am decay.
I am no longer blood.
I am no longer bone.
I am one with everything, and I can finally go home.

@amber_is_in_a_loop

The steel sky loomed high and threatening overhead. A rough wind blew from the coast and you could just feel the tang of the sea in the air.
Alice stumbled along the river, hands in her pockets. It was raining hard, and you couldn’t see further than 5 metres. The sweet smell of damp earth wafted through the air, soothing all the sullen souls roaming these streets by night. All but hers.
She stepped into a deep puddle. Her boot soaked through. She kept walking. Where was she going? She had no idea– all she wanted was to get away. She let the hammering, repetitive sound of the raindrops numb her thoughts and let the penetrating, wet cold numb her pain, and let the forces of nature take her away.
She was headed for the park without even knowing it. Of course, that would be her first instinct: so many firsts had occurred in the innocent surroundings of this child paradise. His first steps, his first laugh, his first soccer goal. She stood still, staring blankly at the deserted play area. Her tears rose to the surface, mingling with the rain. She wept, silent, still, suffering.
The sun was beginning to set. She hadn’t moved, and the tears still flowed freely. She kept trying to stop them and kept breaking further. Her tired legs trembled and caved, and she fell to her knees on the muddy ground. This time, a terrible keening accompanied the crying. She sobbed uncontrollably, chest heaving, images flashing before her eyes: his eyes fluttering shut, his toddler’s hand going limp in hers, the nurses rushing in and dragging her out, the consistent beeping of the machine… the line going flat. The cold rush of shock, the deafening realization, the screaming. She curled up on the cement.
It was irreparable, this grief. It was too big, too overwhelming, too constant for the mind to even comprehend. It was ever-growing, for nothing could replace a loss of this kind. Nothing ever would. This piece of her so suddenly torn away from her, this four-year-old wonder she had brought into the world, had vanished in a heartbeat. And there was no heartbeat anymore, only the rain, and the cold, and the wet, and the broken mother mourning her deceased son.
Passers-by didn’t stop to wonder why this woman was crying. What did it matter? They didn’t know her. She was probably crazy. And so they kept walking, and life went on, and his ended, and hers came to a stop.

@Echo_6 group

She waited on the shore, watching the ship leave. The sun in her face, sinking into the water. A few clouds on the horizon and a light breeze shaking the beach grass. Her white dress trailed back, waving in the wind. Strands of her golden hair blowing in her face.
As the sun sank out of sight, so did the ship as it sail away, with white sails raised to the sky. The sky now a deep purple and growing darker, she did not move. A cold wind set in, now whipping across the shore, blowing sand into her face.
Her cheeks were stained with dry tears, and her eyes were a light dull gray. The ship continued without stopping, taking her heart with it. Darkness settled on the land, the moon covered back dark clouds that moved in. A woman came out and guided her off the shore and into a house.
Night came with no sleep. Wind howled, rain pounded, and waves crashed. Lightning illuminated the clouds, and thunder deafond her.
For days she sat at the window, and waited. Waited for her heart to return. The woman watched her solemnly, knowing an awful truth. One that she could not bring herself to share.
A misty morning arrived and a bell was sounded. She arose and raced out of the house. The woman watched her leave, tears rolling down her face.
Wind whipping her face, her feet pounding on the earth, her breathing out of her own control, she reached the dock. A ship had come into port. The mist was clearing, she could see the splintered wood, the scorch marks, and the white torn sails. Men were coming off the ship. Some were limping, some were fine, some were on stretchers, all looked dead inside. And many came in wooden beds, with silk lining. This wasn't the ship that she had watched leave, she realized with a heavy chest and a lump in her throat.
Dragging her sadness like an anchor she trailed back to the house. The woman was in her room with the door closed and locked. But even the closed door, couldn't hide the cries. The desperate, broken, agonizing cries, from a broken soul. A month went by, her heart and the ship had not made their return. A year, and still no sign.
She waited longer on the beach. Wading in the water, all the way up to her waist. The sun signaling high noon, and her eyes drifted to something coming over the horizon. A tiny shape at first, that slowly grew into a large shape. The same ship that she had watched leave, was limping across the slow moving waves, towards the port. Her ears didn't hear the sound of the sad bells that sounded through the ocean town. She stood there in the freezing water, watching it pull in. Unable to believe what she was seeing.
The once glorious ship, with golden bows, white sails, and the finest wood in all the land. The fastest ship in the sea. Was limping back slowly, with burned sails, broken rails, and a bow with a hole through it. It was halfway underwater.
An hour went by and she did not move, she seemed frozen by the water. A man with a shaved head, wearing a blue, red and white suit, shined shoes, and a white beret, approached her from the shore. He held a carefully folded cloth with red and white stripes, a blue corner and white stars.
His kind words didn't reach her as he handed it to her. Everything seemed to collapse in front of her. Her fingers slowly traced over the brilliant flag. And a fresh wave of pain engulfed her, a numbing pain that never went away. Her heart had gone down miles from her, in an unfamiliar ocean, surrounded by unfamiliar strangers. Never to be recovered again.
And she was left staring at the ship that had taken him. The man with her heart. Who had promised he would come to her sixteenth birthday. Was two hours to late. She was left alone on that shore, holding the only thing to remind a daughter, who's daddy would never come back, on a ship that did.

@Space group

At first I didn't think it was sad but the ending to that story was kind of tear provoking. Good job! I'm in an emotional mood now so that almost made me cry.