It's Time For a Short Story!

Tonight, I present to you the first in what I hope will be a series of posts - short story night! Inspired by this blog, I've been thinking about putting my stories on the blog. Hopefully this will help me to write more. Now, I'm rather new to the short story business, so please be gentle! The goal is to improve and become good at short fiction. I will probably write stories from about 500-1000 words. This one has 425 words.

So, without further ado, here is my first attempt!

The lake was his favourite place. There was an island in a middle, completely covered by a tree. He used to swim there and sit on the highest branch he could climb to, contemplating the world from above.

This morning there was a cold wind, and his mum had not wanted him to go, but he had insisted until she gave in. He had to be there today, to meet Nate. Nate was new and had no other friends but him. He was Nate's only friend, so he had to go and meet him.

He made some ham sandwiches and headed to the lake.

Nate was there already, sitting in the tree.
"I was waiting for you for ages," Nate said.
"I'm here now," he replied.

The water was colder than it looked and he shivered as he got in. He swam with difficulty, but made it to the island.
He sat on the branch with his friend, Nate. Nate was taller and stronger, Nate had seen other countries. Nate was a special friend, but he only had one friend. No one else liked Nate like he did.
"What did you bring?" Nate asked.
"Ham sandwiches," he said, and gave him one. Nate didn't have a mum to make him food.
They ate them quickly, as if pressed for time.

"Let's take turns to jump from the branch and swim back," suggested Nate, and he agreed.
After a few jumps, he was tired, and wanted to stop, but Nate called him a chicken, making clucking noises.
"Chicken, chicken!" Nate shouted, poking him.
He was angry - he wasn't a chicken! He would show his friend that he could do as many jumps as he wanted.

The water was even colder now, or was that his imagination?
He was sure he saw a fish.
So cold in here.

The sand stroked his feet softly as he touched the bottom. He kicked and kicked, and emerged again, spluttering, coughing out great big lungfuls of water, gasping for breath. Nate sat on the branch, laughing and pointing.

"Nate! I need help!" he shouted.

His body was so heavy, and the water was so thick. He couldn't feel his legs any more, and realised he was shivering intensely.
Nate didn't move, he didn't stop laughing. Nate never came.

His frantic mother called the police that night, as the wind battered the house.

They found him on the shore, next to his pile of clothes. On the island, a single sandwich lay untouched on a high branch of the tree.


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