A short story I wrote in my GCSE English class.
"No, no. That's not right, not right at all". He sat, alone. He spent the last 5 years carefully crafting his masterpiece, and it showed. But he wasn't going to ruin it here. He wouldn't let himself. He chose each word carefully, trying to piece together puzzle pieces to form flowing, well thought out story. Hell, was more than that. It was a tale that would carve a hole into pop culture and fester there in its own life energy. It would thrive, he would become one of the modern greats, up there with the likes of Stephen King or J.K Rowling. No, he would be better. A modern-day Shakespeare in the flesh. If only he could get that bloody ending. But how could he word it? was there really any ending that could fit a soul-crushing tale of tragedy as this, one that would become a modern classic for sure. How does one end something of that scale? "DAMNIT ALL!" The pot of ink screeched as it exploded onto the wall, splattering the blood of his nearly birthed baby in one sorrowful wound that spread across the wall. Glass splintered the wall. The CLIKs and KLAKs of the godforsaken typewriter tormenting, bleeding him of his enthusiasm for his creation. 5 years of hard work had led to nothing. Who was he kidding, he was a failure. He was never good enough, for what is a story with no end. It's scrap. 5 years of worthless scrap.
Sorry, this isn't that long. I'm not a very fast writer and we were only given half an hour. regardless, I hope you enjoyed it.
YOU ARE READING
Perfection
Short StoryA short story I wrote in my English class about frustration. it details the frustrations of a man trying to write an end to a work of fiction he considers among the best works in the 20th century. This was one of my first proper decent story attempt...
