EnglishClub
Home Learn English Teach English MyEnglishClub Home Learn English Teach English MyEnglishClub

Please note that these ESL Forums are NOT part of MyEnglishClub. To post at these ESL Forums please register ↑ first.

**Collection of stories**

Talk about books and writers here.

Moderators: Vega, EC

Postby Dexter » Tue Jul 24, 2007 10:25 pm

I like this story very much!

Thanks for posting it here, Elena, you made me read it once again! :D
User avatar
Dexter
Platinum Member
 
Posts: 504
Joined: Mon Jun 26, 2006 10:19 am
Location: Iran
Status: English Learner

Postby Bambang » Wed Aug 08, 2007 3:50 am

Dera Elena,

Keep posting short stories.

I like them.

Thank you.
User avatar
Bambang
Polished Diamond Member
 
Posts: 2150
Joined: Sun May 13, 2007 3:26 am
Location: Jakarta Indonesia

Postby Bambang » Wed Aug 08, 2007 3:57 am

Well written.

I like this.
User avatar
Bambang
Polished Diamond Member
 
Posts: 2150
Joined: Sun May 13, 2007 3:26 am
Location: Jakarta Indonesia

Postby Bambang » Wed Aug 08, 2007 3:59 am

Great :!:
User avatar
Bambang
Polished Diamond Member
 
Posts: 2150
Joined: Sun May 13, 2007 3:26 am
Location: Jakarta Indonesia

Postby Bambang » Wed Aug 08, 2007 4:08 am

a very touching diary.
User avatar
Bambang
Polished Diamond Member
 
Posts: 2150
Joined: Sun May 13, 2007 3:26 am
Location: Jakarta Indonesia

**Collection of stories**

Postby **Elena** » Thu Aug 09, 2007 6:31 am

Hello! A person from forum told me abt his need in stories, I promised to help so I am going to keep my promises :wink:

Funny True Story

On a weekend in Atlantic City, a woman won a bucketful of quarters at a slot machine. She was ready to take a break from the slots for dinner with her husband in the hotel dining room. But first she wanted to stash the quarters in her room. "I'll be right back and we'll go to eat," she told her husband and carried the coin-laden bucket to the elevator.
As she was about to walk into the elevator she noticed two men already aboard. Both were black. One of them was big, very big. . . an intimidating figure. The woman froze. Her first thought was: These two are going to rob me. Her next thought was: Don't be a bigot, they look like perfectly nice gentlemen. But racial stereotypes are powerful, and fear immobilized her. She stood and stared at the two men.
She felt anxious, flustered and ashamed. She hoped they didn't read her mind-but God, they had to know what she was thinking! Her hesitation about joining them in the elevator was all too obvious now. Her face was flushed. She couldn't just stand there, so with a mighty effort of will she picked up one foot and stepped forward and followed with the other foot and was on the elevator. Avoiding eye contact, she turned around stiffly and faced the elevator doors as they closed. A second passed, and then another second, and then another.
Her fear increased! The elevator didn't move. Panic consumed her. My God, she thought, I'm trapped and about to be robbed! Her heart plummeted. Perspiration poured from every pore.
Then one of the men said, "Hit the floor." Instinct told her to do what they told her. The bucket of quarters flew upwards as she threw out her arms and collapsed on the elevator floor. A shower of coins rained down on her. Take my money and spare me, she prayed.
More seconds passed. She heard one of the men say politely, "Ma'am, if you'll just tell us what floor you're going to, we'll push the button." The one who said it had a little trouble getting the words out. He was trying mightily to hold in a belly laugh. The woman lifted her head and looked up at the two men. They reached down to help her up.
Confused, she struggled to her feet. "When I told my friend here to hit the floor," said the average-sized one, "I meant that he should hit the elevator button for our floor. I didn't mean for you to hit the floor, ma'am." Hespoke genially. He bit his lip. It was obvious he was having a hard time not laughing.
The woman thought: My God, what a spectacle I've made of myself. She was too humiliated to speak. She wanted to blurt out an apology, but words failed her. How do you apologize to two perfectly respectable gentlemen for behaving as though they were going to rob you? She didn't know what to say.
The three of them gathered up the strewn quarters and refilled her bucket. When the elevator arrived at her floor they insisted on walking her to her room. She seemed a little unsteady on her feet, and they were afraid she might not make it down the corridor. At her door they bid her a good evening.
As she slipped into her room she could hear them roaring with laughter as they walked back to the elevator. The woman brushed herself off. She pulled herself together and went downstairs for dinner with her husband.
The next morning flowers were delivered to her room-a dozen roses. Attached to EACH rose was a crisp one hundred dollar bill. The card said: "Thanks for the best laugh we've had in years." It was signed, Eddie Murphy and Michael Jordan. :lol: :lol: :lol:
Last edited by **Elena** on Thu Aug 09, 2007 6:41 am, edited 1 time in total.
User avatar
**Elena**
Gold Member
 
Posts: 145
Joined: Fri Jun 29, 2007 11:13 am
Location: Moscow

Postby **Elena** » Thu Aug 09, 2007 6:35 am

A lady in a faded gingham dress and her husband,dressed in a homespun threadbare suit, stepped off the train in Boston, and walked timidly without an appointment into the president of Harvard's outer office. The secretary could tell in a moment that such backwoods, country hicks had no business at Harvard and probably didn't even deserve to be in Cambridge.
She frowned. "We want to see the president," the man said softly. "He'll be busy all day," the secretary snapped. "We'll wait," the lady replied. For hours, the secretary ignored them, hoping that the couple would finally become discouraged and go away.
They didn't. And the secretary grew frustrated and finally decided to disturb the president, even though it was a chore she always regretted to do. "Maybe if they just see you for a few minutes, they'll leave," she told him.
And he sighed in exasperation and nodded. Someone of his importance obviously didn't have the time to spend with them, but he detested gingham dresses and homespun suits cluttering up his outer office. The president, stern-faced with dignity, strutted toward the couple. The lady told him, "We had a son that attended Harvard for one year. He loved Harvard. He was happy here. But about a year ago, he was accidentally killed. And my husband and I would like to erect a memorial to him, somewhere on campus."
The president wasn't touched, he was shocked.
"Madam," he said gruffly. "We can't put up a statue for every person who attended Harvard and died. If we did, this place would look like a cemetery". "Oh, no," the lady explained quickly. "We don't want to erect a statue.
We thought we would like to give a building to Harvard." The president rolled his eyes. He glanced at the gingham dress and homespun suit, then exclaimed, "A building! Do you have any earthly idea how much a building costs? We have over seven and a half million dollars in the physical plant at Harvard." For a moment the lady was silent. The president was pleased. He could get rid of them now. And the lady turned to her husband and said quietly, "Is that all it costs to start a University? Why don't we just start our own?" Her husband nodded. The president's face wilted in confusion and bewilderment. And Mr. and Mrs. Leland Stanford walked away, traveling to Palo Alto, California where they established the University that bears their name, a memorial to a son that Harvard no longer cared about.
User avatar
**Elena**
Gold Member
 
Posts: 145
Joined: Fri Jun 29, 2007 11:13 am
Location: Moscow

Postby **Elena** » Thu Aug 09, 2007 6:38 am

A thriller Love story

Jane is a typical college girl who enjoys life to the fullest. She loves her boyfriend so much and texts him every now and then.
Mark is Jane's boyfriend who works in a call center in los angeles. He's always busy doing so many things. He only manage to reply to Jane's texts when he got off from work.
One time Mark receive a message from Jane : "hi baby! how are you? i miss you! call my house when u get home..take care! i love you!"
Mark ignored the message because he always receive the same message whenever it is time for him to go home from work.
"baby, i miss you..did u eat yet?! take care when you get home! ill be waiting for your call..i love you!"
"baby, where are you?! its unfair that you dont reply to my texts... well, im just gonna wait for your call..i love you!"
Mark reaches home and lay on his bed.
The last time he knew is that he's reading Jane's text.
He was so tired he fall asleep and wasn't able to return jane's call. He can still hear his phone beeps but he's too tired to take a glimpse on the message.
When he woke up the next day, he remembers that he needs to call Jane. He ignored the messages and dialed Jane's .. No one's answering in her house. He called up her cellphone and he was surprised that her father answered the call.
In his voice you can feel his tears and hear his heart tearing apart.
"Mark, why havent you called?. Jane was waiting for your call all night!"
"Dad im sorry. i fell asleep being so tired from work... i was calling ur house but no one was answering. where are you? so i can come over."
"Just meet me at jane's house." Mark went to Jane's house and much to his
surprised he saw a lot of people inside.
The house were so lighted but you can see the gloomvon every person you'll meet there. He was greeted by Jane's mom on tears. She hug him tight and cried on his shoulders.
"Jane was waiting for you. She didnt come with us because she was waiting for your call. She was killed by robbers that broke in our house. Shes gone, Mark. She's gone."
"thats impossible..she texted me..how could this happen!"
Mark can't look who's inside the coffin. He can't move and it feels like his whole body is stuck on the chair he's seating on. He wanted to cry
but it seems that something is blocking his tears to fall down. He turned to his phone and read the messages of Jane.

"baby, im not coming with my mom and dad..im just gonna wait for your call.."

"baby..im so scared... it seems like theres someone downstairs..please call me
now!"

"babe..someones here..they might kill me..please call me now, where are you?
i need you here..."

"baby.... i love you!..."

He wanted to shout and cry so loud. It's true that Jane is waiting for his call. Up to her last breath she only thinks about him.
He stared at Jane inside the coffin. Suddenly tears starts flowing down his cheeks. He can't say anything. The only words he uttered...

"My baby, i'm so sorry! I could have known, i could have fought for you! i'm really sorry! I love you so
User avatar
**Elena**
Gold Member
 
Posts: 145
Joined: Fri Jun 29, 2007 11:13 am
Location: Moscow

Postby Bambang » Fri Aug 10, 2007 3:48 pm

Cool.

Keep posting dear Elena.

Thank you a million.
User avatar
Bambang
Polished Diamond Member
 
Posts: 2150
Joined: Sun May 13, 2007 3:26 am
Location: Jakarta Indonesia

Postby **Elena** » Mon Aug 13, 2007 7:09 am

The story begins like this...

'How long will you be poring over that newspaper? Will you come here right away and make your darling daughter eat her food?'

I tossed the paper away and rushed to the scene. My only daughter Sindu looked frightened. Tears were welling up in her eyes. In front of her was a bowl filled to its brim with Curd Rice.

Sindu is a nice child, quite intelligent for her age. She has just turned eight. She particularly detested Curd Rice. My mother and my wife are orthodox, and believe firmly in the 'cooling effects' of Curd Rice!

I cleared my throat, and picked up the bowl. "Sindu, darling, why don't you take a few mouthful of this Curd Rice? Just for Dad's sake, dear. And, if you don't, your Mom will shout at me.'

I could sense my wife's scowl behind my back. Sindu softened a bit, and wiped her tears with the back of her hands. 'OK, Dad. I will eat - not just a few mouthfuls, but the whole lot of this. But, you should...' Sindu hesitated. 'Dad, if I eat this entire Curd Rice, will you give me whatever I ask for?'

'Oh sure, darling'.

'Promise?'

'Promise'. I covered the pink soft hand extended by my daughter with mine, and clinched the deal.

'Ask Mom also to give a similar promise', my daughter insisted. My wife slapped her hand on sindu's, muttering 'Promise', without any emotion.

Now I became a bit anxious. 'Sindumma, you shouldn't insist on getting a computer or any such expensive items. Dad does not have that kind of money right now. OK?'

'No, Dad. I do not want anything expensive'. Slowly and painfully, she finished eating the whole quantity. I was silently angry with my wife and my mother for forcing my child eat something that she detested.

After the ordeal was through, Sindu came to me with her eyes wide with expectation. All our attention was on her. 'Dad, I want to have my head shaved off, this Sunday!' was her demand!

'Atrocious!' shouted my wife, 'a girl child having her head shaved off? Impossible!' .

'Never in our family!' my mother rasped. 'She has been watching too much of television. Our culture is getting totally spoiled with these TV programs!'

'Sindumma, why don't you ask for something else? We will be sad seeing you with a clean-shaven head.'

'No, Dad. I do not want anything else', Sindu said with finality.

'Please, Sindu, why don't you try to understand our feelings?' I tried to plead with her.

'Dad, you saw how difficult it was for me to eat that Curd Rice'. Sindu was in tears. 'And you promised to grant me whatever I ask for. Now, you are going back on your words. Was it not you who told me the story of King Harishchandra, and its moral that we should honour our promises no matter what?'

It was time for me to call the shots. 'Our promise must be kept.'

'Are you out your mind?' chorused my mother and wife.

'No. If we go back on our promises, she will never learn to honour her own. Sindu, your wish will be fulfilled.'

With her head clean-shaven, Sindu had a round-face, and her eyes looked big & beautiful.

On Monday morning, I dropped her at her school. It was a sight to watch my hairless Sindu walking towards her classroom. She turned around and waved. I waved back with a smile. Just then, a boy alighted from a car, and shouted, 'Sinduja, please wait for me!'

What struck me was the hairless head of that boy. 'May be, that is the in-stuff', I thought.

'Sir, your daughter Sinduja is great indeed!' Without introducing herself, a lady got out of the car, and continued, 'That boy who is walking along with your daughter is my son Harish. He is suffering from ... leukaemia.'

She paused to muffle her sobs. 'Harish could not attend the school for the whole of the last month. He lost all his hair due to the side effects of the chemotherapy. He refused to come back to school fearing the unintentional but cruel teasing of the schoolmates. Sinduja visited him last week, and promised him that she will take care of the teasing issue. But, I never imagined she would sacrifice her lovely hair for the sake of my son! Sir, you and your wife are blessed to have such a noble soul as your daughter.'

I stood transfixed. And then, I wept. 'My little Angel, will you grant me a boon? Should there be another birth for me, will you be my mother, and teach me what Love is?'
User avatar
**Elena**
Gold Member
 
Posts: 145
Joined: Fri Jun 29, 2007 11:13 am
Location: Moscow

PreviousNext

Return to Books & Authors

Who is online

Users browsing this forum: No registered users and 2 guests