Sample of my sons writing

[Nukeman]

For those of you that Know my wife and I on here I wanted to share an allegory my 16 year old wrote. He is a very deep writer and I would like to know what any of you think.


I wrote you guys an allegory:
A dead man walks into a bar and orders a drink. He looks at the bartender and orders whiskey. The bartender looks at the man’s decrepit, sad, and lonely face only to step back in disgust. He orders the man out of the bar immediately and so the man leaves.
A seemingly but falsely happy man walks into another bar. The same man. He looks at the bartender and orders whiskey. The bartender looks at the man’s eager, enthusiastic, and excitable face and says it’s on the house. The man drinks his whiskey and leaves. He thanks the bartender for his kind work and goes home.
A lonely man enters his house and loathes his own existence. Slightly inebriated by the whiskey, he sits on the floor of his dark, windowless apartment and cries himself to sleep. He hopes that he can end it all one day.
An unimportant, feeble man walks into the supermarket the next day. He is not there to buy groceries. He is just there to feel as if he has a place to be. A woman approaches the man and they talk. This woman is nothing like any other person in the world so they become acquaintances. Acquaintances become friends, and friends become partners. She moves into the friendly man’s apartment and tells him she loves him. She tells him that she does not care about his depression, and that he can be happy if he is willing to try. The revitalized man believes her.
A clean-cut, shaven man sleeps. His significant other lies awake next to him in bed. As the euphoric man breathes softly, the beautiful woman notices the scars on his arm. Every night, she takes to counting them much like one would count sheep. Then she decides that for every scar is a year she should be with him. When she finally reaches the hundreds, she stops to kiss him on the forehead before drifting away into a serene sleep.
A hurt man stares and does not say a word as the stressed woman packs up her things and leaves. She tells him that she can no longer live with his negativity and that she needs a place where she can be happy. The man is too much of a hassle and she says she feels like a babysitter rather than a lover. The man watches her as she leaves for the last time but does not try to get her back. It is just another cruel joke that life has to play on him.
And old-looking, cruel man walks through the park at night. People laugh at him and make fun. To the world, he is just the mean old man who lives on his lonesome. The man takes walks every day but it does not help his mood. It makes his mood worse.
A hopeless man sits alone in his room and ties a rope. The rope hangs from the ceiling fan as he ties a specific knot and feels a strange sense of pride as well as sadness as he stands on a chair. The man thinks of the people he has seen and views them all differently than they view him. He sees the faces of each individual as they are but they see him as they wish to see him. The dead man thinks of humans and sees in a new way. He sees neither black people nor white people. He sees grey, lifeless people. And they are slowly fading.

[Nukeman]

Here is another one. He wants to write a novel and has been getting his short stories together..


And I suppose since Veronica shared this with like a million people, it's fair to show everyone else this other story.
Let me know if you cry. My current Cry Count is 6:
Dear Sheri,
I’m spending the entire weekend at a friend’s house. I’ve no clue how long I will be there, nor why I want to go so badly, but I feel as if it may be the best thing for me to do. Perhaps it is so that I can escape myself and create as much distraction from my own mind as possible. It is a scary place and I would hate it if you were to be forced to enter it at any point. I know our relationship seems to be shaky these days and the time you have spent away from the house has been difficult, I believe that some time apart from each other will be the best thing. The right thing. Please do not be mad at me, because I am only trying to help. Who am I trying to help? I’m not sure. It just feels right.
Remember last summer when we stayed on the beach? How you laughed at me every time I got sand on my hands because I could never find the right place to wipe it off? I wiped it off on you and it turned into an all-out sand war. It was magnificent. I had never seen you so happy and I know that I only want what is best for you and I. What about when we first met? How shy you were and how desperately I wanted to lift you up and break you out of your shell. I met you in class when we were assigned to be partners. That was twenty years ago and I still remember it so vividly. The way the left side of your mouth curved up every time I had an idea and even though you never said anything, I knew you enjoyed my company. I knew for a fact that you liked me and I felt the same which is why I tried so hard to become your friend and succeeded. I asked you out, and you said yes.
That day I took you to the dance was magical. The way I had to almost shove you into the great hall filled with people because you didn’t want to be near this massive crowd. I took you out there and you glew, knowing I would be there in case you wanted to bury your face. In case you wanted to hide from the world as you often did. The great tribulation of having to be around so many people was devastating to you. Or at least it would have been, had you not met me. You looked up to me in more ways than one. Though you were almost a foot shorter than me, you were never intimidated by my height. It was one of my best features, you said. It was just one more thing you loved about me.
When I proposed to you, the way you reacted was more beautiful than when I asked you out on our first date. We were in a restaurant, do you remember? You had just finished complaining about all of the people around and the instant I pulled out the ring and asked for your hand, you jumped from your chair and you made a scene. Suddenly, it was as if you did not care about the world. Suddenly, it was as if you would have preferred if everyone stared. You jumped up and down and nodded your head but you could not find the words. Before you could say “Yes,” I took you and we kissed. Everyone clapped. You must remember that. The people applauded and we got a free dessert from the restaurant. The nice man across the room paid for our dinner and congratulated us. You were happy and that was all I needed.
On our wedding day, you walked down the hall. The veil covered your face but I could still see the smile gleam brightly through. The day that you had dreamed of was here and now instead of only living this life in your sleep, you could live it during every waking hour as well. We sealed the deal with a kiss. We did that often, but this one was important. We could be together forever now.
And then when we bought a house, you worried so much about the interior. I told you that I didn’t care how the house looked as long as you were in it. You were the only decoration I needed because nothing else could grasp my heart as much as you did. I remember how tears streamed down your face when those words exited my mouth and you kissed me so passionately. I felt your tears wetten my cheeks and your lips press mine. Our life was perfect. We wouldn’t have had it any other way.
When we would lie in bed, your body pressed up against mine. Those moments were beautiful. Even though I could only see darkness, I felt secure because I could smell your beautiful hair. I could sense that you were smiling in your sleep, dreaming of our life together and looking back at the life we had already lived.
Two years into our marriage, you announced your pregnancy. Oh, how long we had tried and the day was finally here. I hugged you and I got on my knees to kiss you stomach. You were worried about how I would react and I saw your face. You were scared and shaking because you did not know how I would handle the news. The sense of relief in your eyes and the curve in your lips, the same one you had in school, was beautiful. I remember your hair and how soft it was back then. I remember the blonde hair that hung down to your back to the middle of your spine. It was long, and there were times where I wanted nothing else to do but brush it behind your ear and hold you when you were sad. I wanted to pet your hair and hug you throughout the night.
In the hospital, you were so worried. I stood by you and held your hand as the doctors rushed in one-by-one. They told you to breathe and I held your hand. You pushed and pushed as tears streamed down your face. During that time, I thought about how I helped you up and down the stairs every day. I took your hand and you took mine. I balanced my meals just as you did so that I could support you through everything along the way. In the hospital, you pushed and you did so well in there.
But I also remember when the doctors started to rush. They looked at me and told me to leave the room. I saw your face and it was red. You were trying to push, but you couldn’t. I stepped out of the room and the incessant beeping of the machines were all I could hear through the door. I remember sitting in the chair waiting for you to walk out fine with our beautiful son in your hands.
I remember when the doctor came out with the saddest of looks. He took my hand and led me into a room where we could talk in private. Sadness welled up in me as did anger. I think the hole that I punched in the hospital’s wall is still there.
I remember driving home, and I couldn’t see straight. The tears blocked my vision and I almost crashed. The other driver swerved but I did not try to get out of the way. I made it home in one piece. Or at least my, our, vehicle did. I sat on the chair and drank the whiskey I had promised you I would stop drinking the minute our son was born.
I guess what I really want to say is that I love you. And I want to see you just one last time. I feel as if we will meet soon enough, and I can only hope that you will be happy to see me. Not angry at what I am about to do. I would hate for you to be distressed. I just want to know that you are safe, and I would like to hold you once more.

[gabosaurus]

I think your son's writing is quite brilliant. I hope he continues to hone his craft and take some further English classes in school.

Nuke, how is your older son doing? My daughter always thought he was cute. :cool:

[Nukeman]

I think your son's writing is quite brilliant. I hope he continues to hone his craft and take some further English classes in school.

Nuke, how is your older son doing? My daughter always thought he was cute. :cool:Thanks for complement.. He (16 year old)decided to go for a English major with minor in journalism.. English is one of his favorite classes and he has always been well beyond his years in writing style even when much younger...

As for my older son he is in his senior year for Mechanical Engineering (actually has a super senior year next year) doing pretty good. We cant wait until he gets done I would like a little extra cash every once in a while :cool:

[Tyr-Ziu Saxnot]

You sir, have a true writer on your hands. No 16 year old can write like that unless truly gifted IMHO..
If writing is what he wants to do in life then he should go for it..
He obviously has a great talent for it in my opinion.....
Remember, a great mind, an imaginative mind can write. Actually should write to get ideas and inner treasures seen by more people...
Think of the truly magnificent classic writers, poets and philosophers as the gems of the earth. I do...
I value their contributions over that of the great warriors, generals , explorers etc., that I admire so very much..
Best wishes for your son in whatever he chooses to do .. Tyr

[gabosaurus]

Your son sounds like my daughter. Her writing is about average for her age (13), but she has always been a voracious reader. A recent test they did at the beginning of the school year showed she reads at an 11th grade level.
There are so many occupations that benefit from enhanced reading skills. Good authors and screenwriters are always in demand, especially with the power of the internet to help you.

[jimnyc]

Pretty damn good! Sounds similar to stuff I would write, which I just referred to as "depressing" or "wallowing in my own misery". Seems like great work for his age. I think he's well on his way if he chooses to have writing as any part of his future or career. Support is the key though, as a lot of kids don't follow their hearts if they don't feel they are any good at it. And this was some good stuff. I thought I would read your typical teen stuff, and some lame poems or similar. But this seems like someone who has lived this stuff, and wants to share the pain, or get rid of it somehow.

[gabosaurus]

Pretty damn good! Sounds similar to stuff I would write, which I just referred to as "depressing" or "wallowing in my own misery". Seems like great work for his age. I think he's well on his way if he chooses to have writing as any part of his future or career. Support is the key though, as a lot of kids don't follow their hearts if they don't feel they are any good at it. And this was some good stuff. I thought I would read your typical teen stuff, and some lame poems or similar. But this seems like someone who has lived this stuff, and wants to share the pain, or get rid of it somehow.

You should post some stories here. Writing is a great outlet for people to express the way they feel.

[jimnyc]

You should post some stories here. Writing is a great outlet for people to express the way they feel.

I posted a handful back in the day, may have even been on USMB, but doubtful anymore. First off, I don't write as much anymore. And even when I did, when I looked back and reflected on it, it was too personal. It would be kind of embarrassing to post here. It's akin to posting all of my secrets, my problems and my dreams for the world to see.

[gabosaurus]

I posted a handful back in the day, may have even been on USMB, but doubtful anymore. First off, I don't write as much anymore. And even when I did, when I looked back and reflected on it, it was too personal. It would be kind of embarrassing to post here. It's akin to posting all of my secrets, my problems and my dreams for the world to see.

You are right about that. A lot of kids these days express their feelings by writing and choosing photos. Many post those on a site called tumblr. My daughter has one.

[Tyr-Ziu Saxnot]

I posted a handful back in the day, may have even been on USMB, but doubtful anymore. First off, I don't write as much anymore. And even when I did, when I looked back and reflected on it, it was too personal. It would be kind of embarrassing to post here. It's akin to posting all of my secrets, my problems and my dreams for the world to see.




And even when I did, when I looked back and reflected on it, it was too personal. It would be kind of embarrassing to post here. It's akin to posting all of my secrets, my problems and my dreams for the world to see

^^^^ You just described the heart of a true poet.. One has to put it all out there, the good, the bad, the ugly , the insane, the wished for, the rejections , dumbass plays, lost loves, the calamities, etc....

A writer, especially a poet simply must deal in that realm..
Granted it does take a inner confidence, a strong sense of who you are and the fortitude to say-- "hell , nobody is any better simply because they refuse to be this truthful. Everybody has weaknesses and failings--it's called being human."

Give it a go Jim, post a story in my Prose thread, hopefully one about something that you did that we will laugh at. :laugh:

We will salute you for it, while Jeff laughs his ass off. ;)--Tyr

[PixieStix]

Very nice. He has a gift for sure.

My son is gifted that way. He wrote a eulogy for my husband's funeral, that was simply amazing. I happened upon it the other night and cried like a baby.