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Write a story about someone struggling to swallow some harsh (but fair) constructive criticism.

Posted in Middle School on Oct 26, 2022

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✍️ 25 stories

The Lonely Color

Winner of Contest #141 🏆

“... I want to paint you.”She was surprised, sure enough. But she was also curious. Her face concealed nothing, and that was what fascinated me. As she walked through the gallery, each piece evoked something unique from inside her, and she did not bother to mask it. Anyone could read the critique in her face, if they took the time. It is an artist's dream – to clearly see the emotions we inspire with our work.Many had passed by my work since the showing began, pausing for a moment, offering a quick word of praise. I didn't approach them. But...

286 likes 161 comments 161
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Return to Sender

Submitted to Contest #141

Content warning: Some swearing Dear Ms. Huxley, Listen carefully. Well, I guess you can't very well listen to a missive, can you? Read carefully. This is a ransom note. I have your son.  Don't believe me? Then how would I know he's five years old, skinny as a Twizzler, his name is Timmy, and he never shuts the hell up? Oh, sorry. Five and a half. As for how I got ahold of him, let me say this: Maybe you should consider choosing a better preschool. I mean, I didn't have to show my ID or anything. Just pointed to the kid...

30 likes 25 comments 25
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Black and White

Submitted to Contest #141

“Jamaal? Jamaal Black?” the Hispanic receptionist called out, looking over her glasses at a clipboard at the sea of people waiting for court-ordered therapy sessions. A tall white man in his 40’s stood up, dressed in a white polo shirt and light brown khaki pants. His canvas deck shoes squeaked as he cautiously approached her, so as not to alarm her.  “Yo miss,” he said. “I’m Jamaal.” “You making fun of me?” The receptionist looked at the white middle-aged man, straight out of central casting. He couldn’t have been any whiter. ...

21 likes 3 comments 3
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Fool

Submitted to Contest #141

Sir Danielle Longbow looked Minister Qian Jo in the eyes as her blade cut the life from him. The old man whispered something as her blade sank into his carotid artery. Gulping with guilt she pulled the blade away.            He clung to the wound. Red poured over his fingers as he tried to hold the cut closed.            “What did he say?” Danielle asked, looking at Barra Mohani, the only one among them that knew Quingo and...

18 likes 10 comments 10
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How dare he!

Submitted to Contest #141

"Mom, how could he?!?" Missy blubbered into the phone. Missy called home every week to talk to her family. Usually, she was in a bubbly mood and full of joy, but today a storm hit her life. On her final day at work, everything had started like any other day at work. She woke up at 5:30 in the morning. She grabbed a nice warm shower in the sunlight that poured through her bathroom window. After her shower, she poured herself a cup of coffee and ate some toast and fruit. She knew this was her final day of work where she h...

17 likes 13 comments 13
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The Number One Fear

Submitted to Contest #141

Does the thought of speaking in front of a large group make you nauseous? Do you stay awake the night before a speech? Do your hands shake? Does your mind go blank? To achieve success in the world today, people need to present their ideas with force and impact. Don’t let life pass you by! Speaking worries are a treatable problem. In this class you will learn to overcome your discomfort. With the help of a licensed expert and a proven method, you can begin living free of fear! Change is just around the corner, but you must sign up! Saturdays...

14 likes 6 comments 6
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Yours truly, Adelaide St. Claire

Submitted to Contest #141

***The story contains occasional coarse language.***"Dear Miss Adelaide, "The confidence and perseverance you've displayed over the years is quite remarkable, yet your short stories keep failing to impress us. In all honesty, our editors would rather eat the paper your story is typed on, including the envelope and the stamp, than read and critique it.We do appreciate your weekly support, but we humbly suggest you save the $5 submission fee and buy yourself a nice pair of shoes, or a dress instead. Your complexion surely could benefit fr...

12 likes 19 comments 19
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Petr and the Monsters

Submitted to Contest #141

This story is about the war in Ukraine, though sanitized somewhat. Many violent things are implied here because the nature of what is happening right now is violent and graphic and disturbing. To tell the story without this would be to tell a lie. I hope that you can forgive me for any mistakes and understand that this story comes from a place of compassion and an effort not to look away, whatever the cost. “It’s in your head, Petr. You always let your mind run away with you. They’re not monsters, not really. They’re just men.” Maybe Ver...

11 likes 4 comments 4
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The Sonata

Submitted to Contest #141

Gisella di Vallepietra sat, as gracefully as she could, on the embroidered padding of the stool before her instrument. She brushed off her silky skirts, and threw (yet another) anxious glance around the two dozen guests now ambling to their seats in her father’s gilded sitting room. Signore di Vallepietra rarely threw such ornate dinner parties – he could barely afford their ornate Venetian villa as it was – but Gisella had spent months begging her father to host a fine affair which might showcase her hard-won musical gifts. He had finally a...

11 likes 2 comments 2
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The King's Council

Submitted to Contest #141

The autumn chill and the scratching of quills stirred around Emery as he worked in the library of the Abbey. In his hand was a quill of his own, fashioned of goose feather and darkened by iron-gall ink. Before him lay a parchment, blank save for a faint sketch of the Sun that he now traced. His was not a naturally steady hand, but he was patient, for he had illustrated many manuscripts before. A faint sienna had seeped into the afternoon sky by the time Emery took leave of his work. He walked the cloister grounds, soaking in the Sun’s lig...

10 likes 2 comments 2
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"It's Only Words"

Submitted to Contest #141

Ginny's face blanched, her stomach knotted into a tight fist. The social worker standing in front of her said very few words. The look on her face however, spoke volumes. Ginny, through an ingrained default process, interpreted that unspoken language. Unfortunately, her abilities to accurately assess were somewhat out of kilter. She immediately turned it against herself and came up beaten by both the short end and the long one. She cringed with shame as she mentally tallied the litany of mistakes she had made; as a mother, as a...

9 likes 5 comments 5
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Like Clockwork

Submitted to Contest #141

The pitiful chimes of a fifty-two year old grandfather clock rang out in a small studio flat. Two large windows allowed spotlights to stream in from the sleepy town outside, bouncing off of various mirrors and glasses scattered around the dusty space. If you were to follow these paths of light, you would find yourself privy to the few signs of a sole occupant. A pair of trousers were strewn over the back of a chair, which has been placed next to the sink for some unknown purpose. Perhaps it had something to do with the wet pieces of paper...

8 likes 0 comments 0
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AirBnBats

Submitted to Contest #141

Review for Thornwood Estate Reviewer: Jane W. (verified guest) Posted: September 5 at 10:14 a.m. Rating: 4 out of 5 stars My husband and I just returned from our lovely weekend stay at this historic manor on the coast. We wanted somewhere special to stay over the last long weekend of the summer, and Thornwood Estate did not disappoint. Situated on a large property a few miles from a wonderfully quaint little village, the house was spacious and conveniently furnished. We enjoyed long walks through the woods and along the seaside cliffs, the...

8 likes 2 comments 2
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To Manage Inner Fire…With Fire

Submitted to Contest #141

It’s quite interesting how fast someone can get in trouble in less than 20 or so minutes. In the steps going by getting called out on, speaking back to the arrogant as frick teacher for correcting there grammar (I mean, aren’t teachers suppose to know some English to be an English Teacher?) then…detention.Sorry. I said that like that was the last step.Not only did I find myself in my lovely spot in detention….I trashed it. I mean, it’s not entirely my fault. Some girl and guy teased me in my frustrated state, an...

8 likes 6 comments 6
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Constructive Criticism

Submitted to Contest #141

“I remember when I was your age I had to make the dinner and not complain about it”. “I bet you didn’t make the dinner when you were nine Grandma” said Johnathon disbelievingly. “Johnathon I did” said his Grandma, thinking back to when at his age she was capable of cooking dinner for the family while this boy in front of her had trouble toasting a piece of bread! “Gran, do you think I am useless?” he asked her lying on the couch. “No of course not. You just haven’t been taught how to do things. It was different in my day because I had to do ...

8 likes 0 comments 0
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