Tag Archives: writing

Story Time To Start Off The Weekend!

21 Sep

Today I’m taking a break from my weekly travel blog re-caps for something a little different. Here’s a little story I wrote to get you started on some weekend fun. I hope you enjoy it!

The Lone Dwarf

Growing up, my best friend was a giant, or at least that’s how he appeared to me. He would always complain that he felt undervalued as an individual because his ma always compared him to his brother. I could never really sympathize because as a septuplet, having only one identical brother sounded pretty good to me.

Wearing matching baby clothes and sleeping in the same room as kids almost drove me insane. As grown ups it’s even worse. We share a tiny house and all seven of us co-own the family mining company. There’s nothing I hate more than when one of the workers mixes me up with one of my brother. Especially when they call me Grumpy. I hate that guy, he’s such a jerk.

Well anyway, back to the point. My brothers had always made me miserable, but I used to always brush it off by sleeping in order to escape from their constant bickering. I would dream of taking my share of the family fortune and running away with some beautiful forest maiden. When Snow White appeared out of the blue last month, everything changed.

She was the most beautiful girl I had ever laid eyes on. She had thoughtful brown eyes the color of moist earth, tiny feet that could almost fit in the palm of my hand, and rosy cheeks that were always flushed with laughter. All my brothers could see in her though were her superficial traits like luscious lips or unblemished skin. They were such pigs, totally incapable of recognizing a fair maiden in need when they saw one. They even had a bet going about who could kiss her first, just for the fun of it.

I on the other hand, was head over heels in love with her. I even stopped napping because of her. This real flesh and blood lady dwarfed the maidens of my dreams. After a few days of simply enjoying the peace and order that she infused into our otherwise unruly house, she truly won my heart. If she could make me be happy even in that loathed house, I couldn’t even imagine how amazing my life could be living with her alone.

I began to dedicate any time that I wasn’t with her to chopping down trees for lumber and eventually constructing a cozy little love cottage on the edge of the woods furthest from her wretched stepmother. All I wanted was to make her as joyous and carefree as she had made me. I stayed up late into the nights and woke up at the crack of dawn in my attempt to finish the house before any of my crass brothers had a chance to lay their grimy hands on her.

Last week, after countless splinters, strained muscles, and sleepless nights I finally finished the house. It has a pond for her beloved song birds, bright blue and yellow interior walls to match her favorite dress, and a spacious kitchen for her to cook her brilliant dishes in. I designed every aspect of the house in an attempt to please her, from the heart-shaped stone path to the handmade extra long bed.

I was heading back to the house from a long day of putting the final touches on our love cottage with the hopes of professing my love to Snow White when my idiotic brother dopey came wandering up the road singing, “Snow White dead. Snow white dead. She ate an apple, now she’s dead.” I figured that he had just found his drug stash that we had hidden from him, so I ignored it for the most part.

As I got closer to the house, I noticed that it was unusually quiet, and I started to worry. When I finally climbed the steps to the front door, I could see my brothers solemnly sitting on the extra long couch, whipping tears off their cheeks, my true panic set in. There lay my beautiful Snow White on the floor, utterly motionless.

I immediately started searching Doc’s medical books, unwilling to believe that she could exit my life as quickly as she had entered it. To say that the results for “unmoving, unbreathing woman” were grim would be a gross understatement. Eight of the nine places that pertained to her condition proclaimed that the girl must be dead, but just as I was about to give up, I found one that said true love’s kiss could restore life to a poisoned maiden as long as the kiss occurred within 24 hours of the poisoning.

All afternoon I tried to work up the courage to kiss her and reveal my love for her before it was too late. After changing into my finest suit, coming my hair, and spraying on my special occasion cologne, I ventured to the living room to kiss my girl. That’s when my heart broke. Crouched over my fair maiden, sloppily kissing her delicate lips, was my childhood friend, the giant. Despite my childhood perception of my monstrously large friend, I stared at him for a few moments, recognizing that he wasn’t much bigger than Show White. In the few moments, while I stood there dumbfounded, he woke her up, picked her to his horse, and rode away with her.

Once I ceased to be able to even discern her general shape on the horizon, I turned to my brothers and asked them what the hell that was about. They said that Doc had told them that a kiss could save Snow White, but they couldn’t agree on who should kiss her, and therefore win the bet. So instead of calling me over, the one brother who hadn’t put in money on their filthy bet, they decided to call over Phillip over to “plop a wet one on the chick.”

So here I am now, writing this suicide note. Thank you, you wretched best friend for kidnapping the love of my life. Thank you brothers for ruining my one chance at happiness. Thank you mom and dad for making me live with these awful slobs. I’ve had enough of all the misery! Now I am taking action for myself and finally letting myself sleep forever to overcome this wretched heartache.