Empty Eyes / Dan

Maybe you have read similar stories before. I know I have. But I wanted to try and write one just to test my skill.

Segment 3 : Dan

He was a lovely boy before.

Before his father and big sister died.

He was a happy, energetic boy.

He loved his father very much and his older sister even more.

It did not matter that they did not have the same mother. She was the dearest person to him. She was pretty and sweet and protective.

He was so sad for a long time after their untimely deaths. But the sadness turned to surprise when only a year later his mother remarried. The new dad was good. He made him miss his real dad a little less. He was kind though a bit distant. Eventually he began to hope and occasionally ask for another sibling but his mother was absolutely negative to the prospect of having another child.

He thought it strange since his mother was still very young and loved children so much.

And then two years later the most bizarre thing happened. The new dad died unexpectedly.

To his astonishment a third dad followed and died as well.

By the time he reached 15 he had a father, a sister, and two stepfathers deceased, all ahead of their time.

His mother seemed less and less sad with each death and the periods she remained unmarried had shortened suspiciously.

After the death of the last dad, he began to watch his mother closely. It was only then that he noticed some details in her behavior that always existed but he was too young to interpret them correctly.

The most unpleasant realization was that she did not love children. She only loved him. She was kind to him, indulgent even. To every other children she was indifferent and occasionally hostile. With her subtle way she prevented him from hanging around with kids his age, so he had no friends.

Would she have done this if she knew that he would be forced to turn his full attention to her? No, he didn’t think so.

When he found the poison she had used to get rid of all the people he had come to love there was no room for shock. He had suspected long ago. And now she was about to be married again. This one was richest than the others. Older than the others. Childless like the others.

He felt no guilt for dripping these poisonous drops in her tea every morning for these 4 months. He did not regret seeing her face growing paler and paler.

And he did not care stopping the wedding. He let her play the happy bride one last time. He even reduced the dose so she could feel better.

He found it most convenient that his mother had chosen to sleep in separated bedrooms with all of her husbands. As the poison worked its magic she became more dependent of him. Her strength was failing her and he ended up putting her to her bed every night as she used to do when he was little.

The final night he set the scene. The hot cup of tea with the bottle containing the poison was waiting for her on her nightstand, framed by the photos of all the people she had taken away from him.

He helped to her bed as usually. She saw the poison and the photos and all remaining color was drained from her cheeks. She lied down staring at him lovingly.

“It was all done for you, Dan. I wanted you to have everything” she said her voice barely audible.

He emptied the bottle in her cup. She reached for it and he helped her drink it all.

She closed her eyes and said with a little bitter laugh:

“I never cared for them, you know”

He leaned over her ear:

“But I did”. © Constance M.

Empty Eyes / Alexandra

One of my personal favorite of the 6 stories. In a way it's the softest one.

Segment 2 : Alexandra

The three last years were terrible. They were fighting all the time. Their shouting was heard all over the house. She would hear it the same even if she were hiding under her little bed instead of crouching beneath the staircase. She was sure that their neighbors could hear it too. She had seen them looking at her in strangely sympathetic gazes but it meant nothing to her.

Her reality would not change with their pity. Their constant arguing had become normality.

They were saying the most horrible things to each other. Sometimes she could not stand it anymore and closed her ears. Yet, somehow, their squeaky voices made their way through, filling her little head with their mean words. And then she was bursting to tears. Her only comfort was school. She was going to school through shortcuts, but always walked the longest way back home. The problem was, that though she walked as slowly as possible, she always got there in the end.

As it was “natural” both her parents were too busy fighting to walk her to school or from it. Still, those were her happiest hours. She would even make believe that the usual road she walked would magically lead her to another place. And the world that came alive to her little head was a beautiful one and yelling parents were nowhere to be found.

But today, was Saturday and Monday seemed a lifetime away. The trick of the road wouldn’t work when she was at home…

They had started at the break of dawn as always. She had woken up from their rising voices. They had become her never failing alarm clock.

It was late afternoon now and the voices became more high - pitched.

She knew that soon dad would go out to drink again and would be gone till midnight or at least until he was sufficiently drunk.

Those were the calm domestic hours. Mom often would take the trouble to notice her existence. She even played with her sometimes and she was not yelling then. She was almost as sweet as three years ago.

“Oh, mom!” she often thought. “Why don’t we go away? You’re good when he’s not here”.

She never dared to make the suggestion, however. Moments with mom were precious. She did not want to spoil them.

The dusk had come and daddy was still not gone. He kept yelling at mom and she was yelling back. Why was he still there? It was not right. He was supposed to leave. He always did. And then she heard a loud bang and his voice shouting:

“I will kill you bitch!”

He had never said that before. Usually he bit her up a bit and was gone. Killing was somehow never mentioned in their fights.

She ran terrified from her hiding place to the kitchen. Mom was on the floor badly beaten and he was above her holding a bloody knife. He had already stabbed her once or twice but she was alive. She was looking at her.

She lurched at him beating him with her little fists.

“Stop daddy stop!!!” she cried.

He tried to push her off but she wouldn’t let go.

“Please, daddy! Please stop!!”

Once again he pushed her off. Yet as he did, he accidentally stabbed her though her little chest.

The last cry that was ever heard from that house was that of her mother.

“Alexandraaaaaaaaaa”

Then everything went silent.

Forever… © Constance M.

Days Off Lover - Λάτρης των Ρεπό

Έχω εκφράσει ξανά την αγάπη μου για τα ρεπό. Και μένει απαράλλαχτη στο χρόνο. Είναι όπως η ώρα του κενού στα σχολεία.

Και τώρα που ανέφερα τα σχολεία... 6-7 ώρες στο σχολείο και μετά από κάθε μάθημα είχαμε διάλειμμα, στη δουλειά γιατί όχι; Επειδή είμαστε μεγάλοι; Δε χρειαζόμαστε καθαρό μυαλό δηλαδή; Και πρέπει να είσαι καπνιστής για να δικαιολογείται που το σκας 2 λεπτά για ένα τσιγάρο;

Δε νομίζω.

Και δεν είναι ότι δεν υπάρχει διάλειμμα στο πρόγραμμα. Υπάρχει. Έχεις 2 δεκάλεπτα. Και χαλάς το ένα. Για να φας. Επειδή έχει δουλειά. Κι όταν έχει δουλειά πρέπει να είσαι εκεί για να την κάνεις κιόλας. Γιατί γι' αυτό πληρώνεσαι, σωστά;

Έχοντας πει αυτά είναι εύκολο να καταλάβει κανείς την αδυναμία μου στα ρεπό. Κι όταν δουλεύεις στην εξυπηρέτηση πελατών είναι απαραίτητα για την ψυχική σου υγεία. Όσοι δουλεύουν σε αυτό το πόστο, είμαι σίγουρη ότι θα με καταλάβουν απόλυτα 

Οπότε, όσοι έχετε ρεπό σαν εμένα - εκτός από την ξεκούραση που εννοείται ότι είναι απαραίτητη- φροντίστε να κάνετε και κάτι όμορφο με το χρόνο σας. Επιλογές υπάρχουν πάντα, αρκεί να θέλουμε να τις δούμε.

Καλή Κυριακή!!!

I have expressed my affection for days off before. And it remains unchanged in time. It's like the 1 hour brake in schools (it happens here in Greece when a teacher is absent).

And now that I've mentioned schools... 6-7 hours in school and after every class we had a break, why not at work? Just because we are grown ups? Does this mean we don't need a clear head? And does one have to be a smoker to be justified for sneaking out for 2 minutes to smoke a cigarette?

I think not. 

And it's not that there is no break in the schedule. There is. You get to have 2 ten minutes breaks. And you waste one. To eat. Because it's busy. And when it's busy you have to be there to get the work done. Because, that's what you are paid for, right?

Having said these, it's easy to understand my days off soft spot. And when you work on customer service they are essential to your mental health. I am sure that those working in the same position will understand completely. 

So, those of you who like me have a day off - apart from rest that is necessary- make sure you will do something wonderful with your time. There are always choices, given we are willing to see them.

Happy Sunday!!!

Empty Eyes / Ben

A couple of years ago, I bumped onto an article about child murderers. There is nothing more shocking to me than a child reaching the point to commit murder. Nevertheless, the article became the inspiration for 6 short stories under the common title "Empty Eyes". It was difficult writing these stories, but I tried my best. I made an effort to stay away from moral conclusions about wrong and right. I think I was successful in simply narrating each child's story. 

Needless to say that these stories do not have a happy ending, they are depressing and sometimes quite eerie (in my opinion). 

I think it wise to warn you not to let children read these short stories.

Segment 1 : Ben

He woke up from a sound. Initially he thought that he had dreamt it, but as he became more and more conscious of the world around him, he heard it again. He could not understand where it came from. This had never happened before. Strange sounds in the middle of the night were unheard of for this house where everything was always quiet.

“A thief!” he thought alarmed.

He crawled out of his bed soundlessly and grabbed his baseball bat. Whoever the thief was, he knew he was brave enough to fight him and drive him out of this house. He opened the door of his room and walked out carefully. He soon realized that the sound had come from upstairs. Instinctively, he rushed towards the big bedroom. The door was half open. He could hear a whimpering voice whispering in despair:

“Wake up! Please, wake up, my love! I did not mean to hurt you, please, baby, please!”

He looked through the door. He saw a woman lying on the floor, a growing pool of blood around her head. She was so pale… so pale… much more than the usual… A man was kneeled beside her and he looked so desperate, so lost. One could almost pity him… maybe.

He opened the door completely and entered slowly, the bat still in his hand.

“What did you do to her?” he asked, anger in his voice.

The man looked up in shock.

“Ben?” he called, his voice hoarse. “What are you doing here, son? Go back to your bed”

“What did you do to her?” he asked again, his voice turning lower and colder.

The man broke down completely.

“No…thing. I…I did no…thing. It was ju… just an accident. We argued a… a bit and she fell and hit her head. It was an accident. She… she will tell you it was not my fault. She will.”

“Can’t you see she is dead?”

The man nodded frantically.

“No, no, no. she can’t be. It was just a scratch”

“Look at all this blood. She is dead. You killed her” he whispered twisting the bat in his hands. “I thought it was a thief. I thought we needed protection from outsiders that wanted to harm us. That’s what you taught me dad”

“Ben, son...”

“You never said that you were the outsider. You should have warned me against you. I would have protected her”

“It was an accident!” the man shouted looking terrified at his son.

“No, dad. It is a murder. You left her bleeding instead of calling an ambulance. You did kill her” he said as he lifted the bat.

He hit the man hard in the head. Once… twice… many… many times. 

All feelings were gone.

His eyes were empty.©Constance M.

Here come the stories! - Έρχονται οι ιστορίες!

Πριν ξεκινήσω να ανεβάζω το υλικό μου (το οποίο θα γίνει σε μερικές μέρες από τώρα, σταδιακά), θα ήθελα να εξηγήσω κάποια πράγματα:

1. Οι ιστορίες που θα δείτε και θα διαβάσετε είναι δικές μου και μόνο, αποτέλεσμα δικής μου έμπνευσης και εργασίας. Φυσικά και έχω επηρεαστεί από έργο αγαπημένων μου συγγραφέων και προσπαθώ να μάθω από τις τεχνικές τους, αλλά δεν κλέβω τη δουλειά κανενός. 
2. Ότι θα ανέβει εδώ (και σε ομάδες του G+) είναι αυτοτελές. Σύντομες ιστορίες σε ελληνικά και αγγλικά τις οποίες δεν προορίζω για επίσημη έκδοση. Αυτά που θέλω να εκδώσω δεν θα τα κοινοποιήσω ακόμη.
3. Πριν από την κάθε ιστορία ενδέχεται να υπάρχει και μια εισαγωγή για την πηγή της έμπνευσης.
4. Σε πρώτη φάση (κυρίως επειδή είναι χρονοβόρο) η κάθε ιστορία θα παραμένει  στη γλώσσα της. Αυτό σημαίνει ότι οι ιστορίες που είναι γραμμένες στα ελληνικά δε θα μεταφράζονται στα αγγλικά και το αντίθετο.

Προς το παρόν αυτά.

Υ.Γ. Από όσους διαβάσετε τις ιστορίες μου περιμένω με χαρά κριτικές. Ξεκαθαρίζω ότι δεν έχω πρόβλημα με την αρνητική κριτική, αλλά με ενοχλεί πολύ η αγένεια.

Before I start uploading my material (which will gradually happen in a few days from now) I would like to explain some stuff:

1. The stories you will see and read are exclusively my own, resulting from my inspiration and labor. Of course I have been affected by the work of my favorite writers and I am trying to learn from their writing techniques, but I don't steal anyone's work.
2. Whatever is uploaded here (and on G+ groups) is independent. Just short stories in Greek and English which are not destined for official publishing. Those which are will not be made public yet.
3. before each story there may be an introduction containing the source of inspiration.
4. Initially (mainly because it takes too much time) each story stays in its own language.That means that stories written in Greek will not be translated in English and vice versa. 

That would be all for now.

P.S. From those of you who will read my stories I gladly expect your reviews. I would like to make clear that I have nothing against negative reviews, but rudeness bothers me greatly.  

Discussing Goals - Συζητώντας Στόχους

Αφήνω στην άκρη τις συνήθεις μου προτροπές για ονειροκυνήγι και σας ρωτάω :

Ποια είναι τα όνειρά σας;

Οι στόχοι σας;

Τι κάνετε για να τους κατακτήσετε;

Πόσο σας νοιάζει;

Σας ρωτάω για πράγματα που απασχολούσαν κι εμένα πολύ. 
Και τώρα που έχει κάπως ξεκαθαρίσει το τοπίο στο μυαλό μου δίνω εν συντομία την ιστορία μου.

Θέλω να γίνω συγγραφέας. 

Όχι, βασικά, είμαι συγγραφέας.

Γράφω από τα 19 μου. Έχω ένα ράφι γεμάτο τετράδια με ιστορίες. Γράφω σε ελληνικά και αγγλικά.

Αποφάσισα επιτέλους ότι θέλω να το κάνω επαγγελματικά.

Για να βελτιωθώ ξεκίνησα ένα μεταπτυχιακό στη Δημιουργική Γραφή που το πληρώνω με κόπο, αλλά αξίζει και τα χρήματα και το χρόνο. Αυτή τη στιγμή είμαι δευτεροετής φοιτήτρια.

Προσπάθησα πρόσφατα να δημοσιεύσω κάποιες σύντομες ιστορίες στα αγγλικά, αλλά δεν έγιναν δεκτές. Δε με πείραξε γιατί ξέρω ότι δύσκολα πετυχαίνεις με την πρώτη.

Θα συνεχίσω να προσπαθώ.

Ο χρόνος μου είναι περιορισμένος, αλλά τα όνειρά μου καθόλου. Ελπίζω ότι κι εσείς δεν περιορίζετε τα όνειρά σας.

Έχω υποσχεθεί ότι θα ανεβάσω κάποια πράγματα και θα το κάνω.

Ο πρώτος μου στόχος είναι να διαβαστούν οι ιστορίες μου (ακόμα κι αν δεν αρέσουν).

Επαναλαμβάνω ότι θέλω να το κάνω επαγγελματικά και να καταφέρω να ζω αξιοπρεπώς από τη συγγραφή, αλλά αυτό δε σημαίνει ότι θα καταφέρω να εκδώσω όλα όσα γράφω (χμμμμ, αν υποθέσουμε ότι θα δεχτεί κάποιος να εκδώσει τη δουλειά μου).

Γι'αυτό θα δείτε δείγμα της γραφής μου σε ελληνικά και αγγλικά και στη σοφίτα μου και σε κάποιες ομάδες δημιουργικής γραφής στο G+. 

Αυτό είναι το δικό μου όνειρο. Δεν ξέρω αν θα πραγματοποιηθεί, αλλά θεωρώ ότι αξίζει να το παλέψω.

Εσείς πείτε μου τώρα: τι θα κάνετε;

I leave aside my usual urges for dreamhunting and I am asking you :

What are your dreams?

Your goals?

What are you doing to conquer them?

How much do you care?

I am asking you about things that used to trouble me too. 
And now that things have gotten somewhat clearer in my head, I am giving you my story in short. 

I want to be a writer.

No, actually, I am one. 

I write since I was 19. I have a shelf full with notebooks containing my stories. I write both in Greek and English. 

And I finally decided I want to do this professionally. 

To improve myself I started a Master in Creative Writing for which I pay with effort, still it deserves both my money and my time. At the moment I am a second year student. 

Recently I tried to get some of my English short stories published, but they were not accepted. I did not mind for I know it's hard to make it in the first try. 

I'll keep trying. 

My time is limited, my dreams are not. 

I hope that you too do not confine your dreams.

I've promised to upload things and I will. 

My first goal is that my stories will be read. 

I repeat I want to do this professionally, so I can live decently from my pen, but that doesn't mean that I will succeed to publish everything I write (mmmm, supposing that someone will accept to publish my work).

This is the reason why you will see my writing samples in Greek and English in my attic and also at groups of creative writing on G+.

That's my dream. I do not know if it is going to come true, but I think it is worthy of the fight. 

You tell me now: what are you going to do?

My Future Home - Το Μελλοντικό Μου Σπίτι

29/8 - 2/9/2018

Dare to restart - Τολμήστε να ξαναρχίσετε

Σίγουρα κάποιος το έχει πει.
Αλλά, δε βλάπτει να το ξαναπώ κι εγώ. 
Τα νέα ξεκινήματα θέλουν κουράγιο, πίστη και αισιοδοξία, ακόμα κι αν το αποτέλεσμα δεν είναι αυτό που θέλουμε. Είναι υπέροχο να προσπαθεί κανείς, ειδικά σε αυτά που φοβάται. 
Εγώ το αποφάσισα, το έβαλα σε εφαρμογή (στην πρώτη προσπάθεια απέτυχα, αλλά αυτά συμβαίνουν) και συνεχίζω. Εσείς;;;; 😉😉😉😉💟💟💟


Surely someone has said it before.
Yet, it does not hurt to repeat it too.
New beginnings demand courage, faith and optimism, even if the outcome it's not the one we want. It's wonderful to try, especially the things that scare us.
I made up my mind, I've put it to work (I failed my first effort, but these things do happen) and I keep going. How about you???? 😉😉😉😉💟💟💟