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Tell me a story...


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In days long gone by, people actually used to sit in their living room and tell each other stories. These stories were generally oral traditions handed down. Perhaps in some cases they were based on dreams or perhaps based on actual events that happened.


This could be a story about what you did during your day or about anything you can imagine. Try to keep it relatively short.

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This one based on a dream I had...




There it was, right in front of me. The high grey stone walls mocking me with their very existence. It was a place I had read about in a story. A story I had thought was fiction, despite the person who the story was about telling me it wasn’t.


I had talked with him online, fallen in love with him at some point. He had served time in a juvenile detention camp. The way he had described it had been unbelievable to me. Why, if it really was as he had described, they would agree to give tours or allow visitors to this place I had no idea. I was about to find out. Furthermore, I had to know what I was fighting against.


We, the visitors, stood in endless lines waiting to get in to see someone. Each of us likely there to see someone different. Me, I was there just for a tour. The person who I would have seen hadn’t been there in over 10 years. And he had been dead for almost 4. But I wanted to know, no, I HAD to know what exactly he had gone through during his time at this mysterious youth camp.


And so I waited in the endless lines, flashing my I-D upon request. My jacket did little to stiffle the onslaught of the howling wind.


When I finally got through the door, I had almost expected to find an enclosed area or rows of tents or something. I had thought it would be like a camp. But no, it was nothing like that.


The ground was completely barren, various things that were little more than simple lean-tos set up in long rows. There were kids anywhere from 14 to 18 chained to stakes in the ground like they were dogs. Occasionally down the rows there was a wooden wall like the wall of a stable or something, but it would only be the one wall. Two forming a L on the end caps of each row.


I made my way through the rows, an armed guard with me at all times clutching his G36C in a military ready position. We walked all the way to the last row on the end furthest from where we started. There it was, an empty stall. Empty for now. This was supposedly where he had been held during his time here.


I couldn’t believe it, I was staring it in the face and I couldn’t process it mentally. For one thing, places like this weren’t just fiction dreamed up on the internet as I had thought all this time. For another, He had actually beeen here. He had stayed in this small lean to with 2 walls and a tarp for a roof. It was strange, and people generally don’t believe me when I say this but I could feel His presence. It was as if He was trying to reassure me from the beyond this world that it would be okay.

I took a deep breath and gulped, looking over at my ‘companion’ before speaking up, “I have seen all I need to.” The guard nodded and escorted me to the exit. The feeling of hopelessness and shame coming off the kids who were in there would haunt me for a very long time. It was almost a physical thing that manifested itself in their eyes and in the way they stood in their voices as they spoke what few words they dared among themselves.


I couldn’t reach the exit to that place fast enough, and I picked up my pace a little bit feeling eyes on me from all sides. Their stares penetrated me, saw through me to every shameful thing I had ever done. The armed guard of course matched my pace.


I waded my way back through the guard stations and security check points back to the parking lot. When I got there, my boyfriend was waiting for me. The gates shut behind me, the guard long gone left behind at the entrance.


I collapsed into my boyfriends arms, sobbing. “Oh, God... How could they... How DARE they...” My questions were never fully expressed, but they didn’t need to be. There had to be some kind of law against what was going on here, didn’t there? Not, apparently, in this universe.


“Shhh... It will be okay.” My boyfriend cooed in my ear softly, stroking fingers through my hair and occasionally brushing past my ear gently tickling the skin there. “It will be okay.” He reitterated firmly and with such care and surety that I had to believe that at some point it WOULD be okay.


We got in his car and drove away from there, not looking back. This terrible place that they used to house children. It was reminiscent of one of those camps you hear about from World War 2. We would be back sooner or later. We would have to return to shut this place down. 


Had the kids in the camp done wrong? Probably. Did they deserve the kind of treatment they were getting in this place? Nobody deserved that.


I took a look over my shoulder at the large grey stone walls that faded into the distance. I didn’t know what supposed crime these kids had committed, but this punishment was too extreme.


 And I knew the next time I saw them it would be as a conqueror. A liberator of the innocent and the not so innocent that may be there.

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I want to let you know how moved I was reading your story... I really liked it... and I wanted to thank you for sharing it with us all.


If you are not a Author you SHOULD BE!!!


Thanks, Denis. This is possibly one of the best compliments I have ever gotten on anything I have done.


As for being an author... I have something in the works, but it has a long ways to go before it's ready to be posted.

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You all are wrong! It doesn't need to be posted as a short. I want the whole story of how he frees these kids from this horrible situation. Benji, you need to be writing!! :D 



Being based off a dream, it will be hard to get more story out of this. But each time I read it I get a little bit better idea of the universe. So there is possibilities. What I may end up doing is posting it as a series of shorts that are related.

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I do not know about others, but I for one want you to do anything you want as long as you continue to write and then share what you will with the rest of us...


Though sharing would always be great... Writing... especially YOUR writing is what is important in the long run... for as I said earlier...



... If you are not a Author you SHOULD BE!!!

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