A short story I wrote // the tale of an abandoned water bottle in French and English

Hello! I hope that you’re all having a good start to your May! Anyways, at the beginning of April, I said that I was going to post the short story that I was writing for a french assignment, so here it is. I also have it first in French, and then in English. The English version is less edited, and slightly shorter, but it’s pretty much still the same story. So, without further ado, here is the story of an abandoned water bottle. Yes, you read that correctly. That is indeed what it is about.

Continue reading “A short story I wrote // the tale of an abandoned water bottle in French and English”

Chapter 3: Wendy

Hello, readers! Tomorrow I go back to school, which means that winter break is just about over, but right now, here’s another chapter of the story, I’ve been working on! I hope that you enjoy reading it, and I would love to hear your advice and opinions in the comments! Anyways, without further ado, here’s chapter 3 of my story:

It was just a normal day. For an abnormal kid. At sixteen, Wendy was regularly doing things that would have made a professional daredevil get nervous. At the moment, she was backpacking at an unknown location. The only clue to her location was a tiny gps embedded in her ear disguised as an earring. The gps coordinates would only be looked at if she didn’t show up at home after the scheduled length of four days. It was her biggest stunt yet: it would be all over the news, if her mother would allow it. She was certain that her mother would turn away every hungry reporter that came to their doorstep. She could be the next great adventurer, her name known all over the world, if only her mother would realize it.

One thing she wasn’t ready for her mother to realize was how many places she’d really been. She could fly a plane, she had pilot’s license and everything because of a certain very mysterious individual who’d shown up at her first few locations, speaking to her privately when she’d wandered off from the group. This time, she’d asked him to back off though. This trip was hers, and even though it was relatively close to home, no one would find her, and she was sure of it.

She was feeling confident, with a spring in her step despite the pounds of equipment she was carrying, so when the branch came hurtling out of nowhere, knocking her over and pinning her arm to the ground, her first instinct was to call for help. When she remembered she was alone in it all, she panicked, but got herself together and knew that she would get out of this bind, even if she was completely on her own, and hopelessly lost to the rest of the world.

Wendy tried to lift the branch off with her other arm, but it was big, and her position made it hard for her other arm to reach around. Her right arm, the one that was pinned, hurt really badly and she thought it was most likely broken in a few places. As a rule, Wendy always kept a first-aid kit within reach at all times. She tended to the cut where her cheek had been scraped and put some neosporin and a band-aid on it. She tried over and over to get the branch off, but eventually decided to save her energy for survival. She took stock of what she had and could reach and had access to: 4 energy bars, a 32 ounce water bottle filled with cold water, a pocket blanket that would take a bit of strength to get out but would keep her warm at night and a lighter. Lighting a fire would be risky, but if she got really cold she could always light a very small fire and use it to warm her hands. All the rest of her food was a couple feet away, along with the rest of her water and her tent. She knew that help would come in 3 days, she just wasn’t sure she would make it until then.

So…

What do you think about my story? I would love to hear your feedback on my writing! Are you working on any writing projects of your own? Chat with me in the comments below!

Happy Reading!

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Chapter Two: Samara

Happy first night of Chanukah, for those of you who celebrate it. Today, I’m back with the second chapter of my story that has yet to be named. Also, I know… I’m being extremely inconsistent with my graphics, but right now, I’m currently exploring the vast complications of mostly self taught photo editing, so once I’ve figured out a little more, I’ll decide on an actual system. Anyways, I hope that you enjoy reading this second part of my story, and I’d of course love to hear your feedback!

Chapter Two: Samara

Samara loved her grandparents, but sometimes, it was just too much. Going to their mansion in Beverly hills was really overwhelming. Her grandmother insisted that they fly in her family’s private jet, and her father didn’t want to argue. Her mother, who had grown up with the luxuries of the daughter of a millionaire, was used to the high life, but when the kids at school talked about bad mid-flight meals, or really long delays, she could only pretend to understand. Her only friend who knew about her family’s wealth was Milo, and he didn’t care about how influential her ancestors had been and that she, an only child, would grow up to inherit one of the largest companies in the United States; Brinkmann textiles. 

Even though she was the daughter of Christine Brinkmann, the granddaughter of Melissa Brinkmann, and the great-granddaughter of her namesake Samara Brinkmann, she did not take after the previous leaders of Brinkmann textiles. Samara loved the outdoors, and was very involved in clubs at school, volunteering at local animal shelters, organised clothing drives and wrote letters to the editor of her local newspaper about the importance of the three R’s. 

What upset her, however, was that for however much she reduced, reused and recycled, her family business wasted a thousand times as much. She swore that once she was in charge of Brinkmann textiles, she would make some big changes.

That weekend at her grandparents, however, hadn’t been so bad. Her grandparents gave her yet another expensive jewelry set,  this time ruby, which she had insisted she didn’t need and would never wear, but they gave to her anyways. Her grandfather took her to play golf at his private golf course, which wasn’t fantastic, but better that an online tour of the Brinkmann textile’s new headquarters, which as her grandmother put it was “an interactive experience that will aid you in your future when you take charge of this wonderful trade.” Sure. 

Her grandmother took her to the mall and told her that her budget for the day was 500 dollars. She blinked. That much money could buy back to school materials for a lot of kids, who might not necessarily have the money to pay for the needed supplies. She said so, and her grandmother responded that they’d find the money to pay for their own stuff if they really needed it. Samara was fed up with her insensitive family so she said she’d walk home. Her grandmother wouldn’t allow her so she rode home in her private limousine. Her grandmother said she was exhausted, so she sat in the built in massage chair. To Samara, the afternoon had felt like a joke.

When she got out of the limo, she began to walk down the block. She passed one of the smaller houses and noticed a girl who looked about her age sitting in front of the semicircle of tall trees. A bunch more kids, that looked like they were around her age or younger ran around playing games. “Hi,” she said. “Nice car.” Samara didn’t really know how to respond, so Samara thanked her. She kept up, trying to strike a conversation. “Do you live around here?” She asked. 

“No,” Samara replied, “just visiting my grandparents.”

“Me too!” She seemed happy to have something in common. The girl began to ask Samara about the construction that had been going on on the house, but Samara was not in the mood to talk, so she told the girl she had to go, and left.

When she got back to her grandparents house, she started to read a book, but couldn’t stop thinking about what the girl had began to say about the construction. “Now the house is even bigger than it was before!” A kind of obvious statement, but she had a point. Memories of visiting the house every year were mostly of her grandparents, but the house had been big. Tearing it down and rebuilding just gave the leeway for bigger parties, the basement parking garage for more cars even though most of the neighbors lived in biking or walking distance, and the three pools just looked cool on google maps. Well, the pools she understood, even though she and her parents were the only ones who ever swam in them. There was a hot tub, and lap pool and a pool with a diving board and mini water slide. It was cool, and they did have a solar water heater. 

So what if she was the richest girl in her school. It wasn’t like she wanted to use the money to buy an enormous mansion and never do any work! She already knew exactly what she was going to do when she was older: she and Milo would live far out in the wilderness and live off the land. Milo’s older sister Wendy would also help out, but mostly, they would be on their own. If their parents ever would let them. Her grandma would probably have a heart attack if she even suggested going camping at the hospital’s front lawn, and Milo was still ‘too young, and too immature, and would distract Wendy from her goals.’ The odds were against them, but they knew that someday it would work out. They just didn’t know when, and they had no idea that it would be so soon.

Are you writing any stories right now? What do you think about mine? Chat with me in the comments below!

Happy Reading!

Chapter One: Milo

Hello! I’ve been working on a story for a couple of months now, and I’m going to try to post one chapter every week or so, and I’ll see how that goes. I don’t even have a title for this story yet, but I’ll figure one out later… Anyways, I hope you enjoy the start of the story, and I’d love to hear your feedback!

Chapter One: Milo

Milo Gabel was mad. Why did his sister Wendy, who was only 4 years older than him get to do all the cool stuff, while he was stuck at some stupid camp. His best friend Samara would get back from her grandparents house later that day, and he couldn’t wait. When Wendy was off doing cool stuff, like rock climbing, bungee jumping, or backpacking, like she was now, there was nothing to do at home. Milo had begged his parents to go with her, but they said that he was too little and would hold her back, so that’s how Wendy ended up backpacking alone in the wilderness with only a tiny gps tracker as a clue for her location, and Milo was stuck at a nature camp, with a bunch of little kids who actually thought building fairy houses was fun. So when he kicked the branch off the mountain they’d hiked, he didn’t even think about it. f

Maria, a 6 year old girl who was all too obsessed with finding unicorns, whined at him “Eliza said unicorns don’t live here”. She looked about to burst into tears. “Just not at this time of year, he replied reassuringly. Eliza, the only other camper Milo’s age, glanced back at him. What was wrong with her, Milo thought. As if she could read his mind, she said to him “this isn’t some stupid fairy tale, real world here”. As if a 6 year old would get that.

The day hadn’t been fun, so when Milo’s mom came to pick him up, he was glad to get out of there. His week at the horrible camp was over. Being in nature isn’t fun when you have to do silly activities like that. Dealing with little kids sad about unicorns wasn’t very fun. What his sister Wendy did, now that was an adventure, so when he got in the car, nothing prepared him for what his mom was about to say.