Click here for nice stories main menu

main menu   |   youngsters categories   |   authors   |   new stories   |   search   |   links   |   settings   |   author tools

My 17th Christmas (standard:non fiction, 1442 words)
Author: Saint KnightAdded: Feb 02 2003Views/Reads: 1805/1127Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
It's Christmas, my 17th since my arrival here on Earth.... and... and... oh my... it's- it.. makes me.... speechless

You probably do not want to know who I am, or how do I look like, or
where, when, and why am I writing this.  You probably do not care a 
single thing about me.  But boy, I am your main character here.  And 
you probably do not want your main character indescribable. 

I am 17, no big deal.  And just for the sake of telling you, I am not
what you think I am upon your seeing me.  There's definitely somebody 
hidden behind that skinny figure.  People claim I should, by now, visit 
the barbershop.  This is my life, and I will have this untidy hair as 
long as I wish.  It's just nice to gain liberty from haircut 
inspections every first Monday of the month.  They never failed making 
me sick.  More than that, what more... yeah and good heavens, I am 
telling you; I was born to be mistaken as a Chinese.  Though my blood 
doesn't have a single hint of the race.  What more have I failed to 
tell you?  Well, that's basically the concrete me. 

Oh, yeah, these days, I am quite suicidal.  I am betting most of
17-year-olds are.  I am your typical teenager who tends doing things 
alone.  A somewhat recluse who pretends he can manage to live alone.  A 
kid who finds chat rooms a sanctuary, and comics a lifeline.  Your guy 
who worries he will end up marrying someone worse than who he is.  I 
also am the vainest person I've ever known, cursing mirrors 
occasionally, throwing ugly-angled self-pictures before others see 

Enough about me.  And well, that will describe your main character here.
 My name?  Sorry but my name might be identical to that of your 
enemy's, you might end up ignoring my story.  Names surely affect one's 
outlook towards stories.  God, I can still taste the fruitcake I've had 
last night.  It's 4 a.m. and it's Christmas. 

Honestly, I really do not how to start my story.  But I swear to the
spirit of the season, this is an experience I will hardly forget. 

Well, it was a very nice view of me sitting there on that bench.  I
think it happened inside a mall, or a park, or a church.  It really is 
not important to tell you where it happened.  The bench was the most 
significant thing here. 

There I was, sitting, penetrating my eyes on an article of a newspaper
that suddenly came from nowhere.  I was waiting for someone.  I knew I 
was, but I had no idea who or how many people were they.  Though I 
sensed it was my family having this last minute shopping I was waiting 
for.  I hate rushing so I decided to stay there and wait.  Boy, it was 
way cold on that bench that I couldn't help but think I was not in the 

I was focused intently on what I was reading; I cannot recall what it
was either.  My eyes were bit strained for it was abnormally cold 
there.  I scanned the horoscope section just for the sake of doing it.  
Of course, I have only checked what was written for my sign, Cancer.  
Dumb if I would be checking all of those signs.  What was written on it 
was weird.  It really was.  There were only three words under my sign:  
“Your left shoulder...” It was really weird. 

So what's with my left shoulder?  Curious, I have decided to check it
out.  Looking at my left shoulder, I managed to have a glimpse of 
another human being seated next to me.  God was I shocked!  She was 
actually looking at me, smiling.  Her smile was kind of devilish.  All 
along I thought I was alone on that bench. 

“Hi.”  That was the sweetest hi I've ever heard, though.  What was so
unusual with her was her blonde hair and blue eyes.  Unmistaken ably, 
she was a foreigner. 

“Hi,” I answered, quite awkwardly.  I am a big snob, haven't I told you?
 Anyway, she just had that constant devilish smirk on her face.  It 
annoyed me. 

“It's very nice here in your country,” she claimed. 

I just smiled.  That go-on-speak-more-I-am-listening smile I always wear
whenever someone wants to talk to me.  Though I have to admit now, I 
was pretty nervous.  I never expected I would be having an encounter 
with a foreigner, plus that very nice horoscope. 

Click here to read the rest of this story (77 more lines)

Authors appreciate feedback!
Please vote, and write to the authors to tell them what you liked or didn't like about the story!
Saint Knight has 2 active stories on this site.
Profile for Saint Knight, incl. all stories
Due to abuse, voting is disabled.
For a quick, anonymous response to the author of this story, type
a message below. It will be sent to the author by email.

stories in "non fiction"   |   all stories by "Saint Knight"  

Nice Stories @, support email: nice at nicestories dot com
Powered by StoryEngine v1.00 © 2000-2014 - Artware Internet Consultancy BV