Snippets 4

By Melanie E.

A Short Introduction:
This volume of Snippets is quite a bit different from the first three. Rather than being short, but complete, stories, this is more of an actual collection of snippets -- pieces of stories I've been working on. Some of these are relatively recent, being born from brainstorming sessions as I try to get myself back into writing. Some of these are years old, and have been mentioned in previous blogs and postings of mine as "works in progress."

All of them, however, have one definite feature in common: they are far from being finished, and I'm not sure if they ever will be.

Therefore, I have decided to post what I have, as is, for reader's enjoyment thereof. Some of these I might attack again at some point in the future, fleshing them out and finishing them off. Perhaps they will appear as something almost completely unrecognizable from what they are here.

Others, if the author is right, I might pass on to another, should someone I think could do a good job of them ask for one.

For now, this is what there is, and this is what readers will get.

Enjoy.

Chapter *8.28*

Stuttgart Taxis

I checked my bags once again, cycling kit, Sophia's dress — even some normal clothes. For once I had everything under control; I straightened my bakery uniform and headed off for work.

Hours to go…. The lovers have to prepare their home for the party-goers and themselves for being the reception Committee. So much to do, and so little time!


Chapter 20 — We are ready!!!!

"No," she said. "Get it: I'm dead. I'm a ghost. For real. Can you understand?"

I turned and looked at her. Then, pointing my finger, I slowly and gently poked her in the arm. She was soft to the touch, much softer than I expected, but she was no ghost.

"You're real," I said. "You're not a ghost."

She scoffed and in a scornful tone said, "Oh, and you know all about ghosts, I'm sure!"

I bit my tongue for a moment, then told her, "I will drop you wherever you want to go, but I will not play this game."

This is a different tale that sprang up while I was cooking dinner. It is a single short story. This story may hurt you. Reader beware.

Michelle was confused. People kept asking or calling for someone named Mikey. She would sit day after day in the living room playing with her older sister and her barbies or tea.

Hazrin, born Azrina, was born a boy and was genetically a boy. Then his mother registered him as a baby girl. When he was 2, his mother sent him away to live with his aunt, deep inside the vineyards of France. Without knowing anything, he lived almost twenty years of his life as a girl. Now he has returned home, to his home country, and decided to care for his little brother and sisters, as a man. Can he untrain himself of all feminine gestures and become a real man? Enter Iskandar, the nephew of one of the wealthiest tycoons in Southeast Asia. He had a plan, of becoming independent from his uncle, but that would cause him to betray the only one he holds dear. Will he sacrifice all for Azrina's love? Or will he sacrifice Azrina instead? Then comes Max, a german man from an impoverished noble household. For the past fifteen years, Rina Sofiana de Havensall, has always been in his mind. Now that he had fulfilled his promise, he came to find Rina, to ask her to honour her part of the promise. Bliss Behind A Stalk of Rose Part 5 By Shinieris

"Yes! Thank you, thank you. I love you, Rina!" Mira cheered as she hugged Rina tightly. Then she got up and skipped to the door.

She opened the door and went out, but before she closed the door again, she poked her head and said, "You know, if you had said no, I would've had to ask your boyfriend."

Rina frowned. "Who's my boyfriend?"

"Mr. Iskandar," Mira giggled as she barely avoided a flying pillow. Mira then closed the door and laughed all the way to the room she shared with Nini.

Scarlet-11.

Chapter 11

I don’t really remember much from the point of where I started bawling my eyes out. Little hazy patches mixed in with other hazy red lit patches in my mind. I know that I was in Sentinels arms and crying like a woman that had just lost her mind or part of her soul but inside of myself.

I’m Darcy, curled into a ball in this place that’s like some kind of salt flats but I’m on flagstones and there’s this structure just behind me of this temple? It’s so strange because I looks like a medieval era constructed geodesic dome and that’s mixed with a lot of middle eastern designs.

Like a sort of stained glass mosque.

Dorothy is rather insistent that I publish this part right now even though WE, yes you too Dottie, are still working on the whole story and it will not be ready for quite some time.