Home
New on NTB
Nobody's Extra Blog
Books
About the Author
Welcome To The Home Of Raul F. O.
Nobody the Blog
Nobody's Extra Blog
Media
Contact
Sign In My Account

Author Raul F. O.

Home
New on NTB
Nobody's Extra Blog
Books
About the Author
Welcome To The Home Of Raul F. O.
Nobody the Blog
Nobody's Extra Blog
Media
Contact
Sign In My Account
10 years.jpg

Nobody the Blog

Words of a Nobody. Stories to be read and unheard. And the home of quality free short stories. From the series Attropolis to I Write Sins… Not Tragedies, the anual Pilot Program where you choose the next story of the next year from a bunch of short stories.

  • Filter
  • All
  • Blog
  • Books
  • Pocdast
  • Short Stories
December 23, 2020
Raul FO
Short Stories, Books, Blog

It has been a while...

December 23, 2020
Raul FO
Short Stories, Books, Blog

Burnout, anxiety, stress, the uncertain future and a lot of other things have collided in the past few months. I promised myself this year that I will be better or that at least I’ll try to be happier this year, with a brighter outlook on everything. And you can imagine how poorly that went this year due to a more than few certain things. And as good the good things that happened this year were, and the fortune of not getting ill or sick, it has been difficult to keep writing stories. Especially I Write Sins, when it all felt so bad. I didn’t feel it was appropriate to keep writing a story about an unhappy man in a relationship that dreams of other fulfillment. Well, that and the burnout didn’t help either. But, I have been writing. The fifth book is a beast and writing it is fulfilling, depressing and fun to research. We also have the cover figured out and I can’t wait to share it with you all. You do have a preview in books to the cover. But, there is a lot to still go before it is all ready to share. Yet, I do promise that it will probably ready for 2021. So, please do look forward to the first page of the first 7 chapters.

The book, isn’t the only thing I have been working on though. That announcement soon tab is also something different that I am trying to work on. It has been an idea of mine for three years already and it is getting close to a final product. Which will also be available next year probably in some for or another. And I can’t wait to share it with you all. Speaking of branching out, I also been trying to figure out a way into comic books. And this next year, I’ll try even harder to find my way into that type of a creative outlet. Even if it is through a platform as WebToons. As we the rest, there is a lot of work to be done and things to come in place before even attempting such a thing. But, that doesn’t mean I’m not going to try to find a way to do it through some sort of means. I always loved the artform, whether we are talking the western style or the Japanese one. There is something quite interesting about that means of storytelling and how they manage to do it so well. And the last thing I am looking into doing a bit more is finding a way into writing more games like I did with Questo, which was quite a fun experience.

Now, I explained what happened with I Write Sins…, the book, what I want to branch out to in the future. But, I haven’t quite touched on what will happen with Nobody The Blog and The Pilot Program. Well, they will continue. Starting with 2021 we will have a new short story published on a weekly bases. I can’t wait. These past years have been a treat in trying to improve my storytelling capabilities. Trying to be more meticulous in the writing, with less grammatical mistakes or misspellings and more engrossing stories and characters. To that end, that’s the reason this book is taking so long to write and create. I want it to be better than everything that came before. I want it to be the best I can do right now. And that’s how I want things to be going further, better than what I’ve done to that day. It is to that extent that I can’t wait to share the next year and short story series with you all. When? Every Friday evening, Saturday morning, depending on the timezone you are in. See you all in 2021. Stay safe. And thank you.

You can always support me with a donation at https://www.paypal.me/RaulFO

December 23, 2020
Raul FO
Short Stories, Books, Blog

Tagged: It has been a while, Update, The Pilot Program, Nobody The Blog, Short Story, Raul F. O., Short Story Series, Short Stories, Short Story Blog, Short Story Blogger, Short Story Author, Short Stories Blog, Short Stories Blogger, Short Stories Author, Raul F. O. Short Story, Raul F. O. Short Stories, Author Short Story, Authors Short Stories, Story, Stories, Story Time, Series, Nobody, Nobodies Story, Nobodies Stories, Nobody Short Story, Author Raul F. O., Author, Authors, Blog, Blogging, Blogger, Blogs, New, New Story, New Short Story, New Short Stories, Free Stories, Free Short Story, Free Short Stories, Best short story, best short stories, best new short stories, New Release, New Releases, Writers, Writing, My Writing, Creative Writing, Creative Short Stories, literal stories, literature, 2020 short story, 2020 short stories, September short story, art, artists, artistic freedom, censorship, hating art, hating artists, most hated artists, love of art, art is a business, business, marketing your art, marketing your book, marketing your paintings, marketing your photos, selling your photos, selling your books, selling your paintings, how artists work, how artists get paid, how art works, selling your music

September 20, 2020
Raul FO
Short Stories, Blog

I Write Sins... Not Tragedies 37 & 38 - Time of Dying & I Wear This Because Life is War

September 20, 2020
Raul FO
Short Stories, Blog
37 & 38.jpg

Intoxicating, is the only way I’d describe my sick mind as I see her leave the apartment for work. The flood of reoccurring questions I see incoming is absolutely terrifying, sending me in a frenzy as they all hit at once. My arms start to shake, my neck starts to hurt, and this unquenchable thirst to scream and punch something is all I feel as I try to avert my consciousness from any of the worries and questions that drawn me in sorrow and anxiety. Pacing around the apartment, with more and more adrenaline flowing through me, my flight or fight response is slowly overflowing as my movements become more and more sudden. Circles clockwise, circle clockwise, I make circles clockwise. Then, stop. Turn right and with the determination of a bull I start to stroll up, turn quickly around and down the hallway. Up… And down. Up… And then down. Quicker and quicker I move until I find myself exhausted with the watch on my wrist beeping that I’ve done ten thousand steps in just the hour and a half since I woke up. So I stop. Though, maybe I shouldn’t have… As it was a mistake.

I grasp for air but take a whole mouth of panic inducing questions as I swallow feeling my heart beat faster and faster. My heart is pounding in my chest, resonating throughout my body. So, I lay in bed. Eyes wide open. Once more stuck looking at the ceiling as my body is taking a trip on its own and I try to keep my mind in place from drifting towards any other new dangerous places. My ears start to ring a tune I grew accustomed to. Minutes pass, there is no new feeling I’m feeling as I go through this once more as is routine by now. There is no escape. There is nowhere to run. There is nothing else to do. I feel the waves overwhelm me as I hold onto the bed and the mattress thinking of thinking no thoughts. Because no thought is better than any thought right now. Yet, I can’t live without thought. It’s the thing I need the most to work with. And that’s how my panic deepens even further. I can’t hear much, not that I even want to hear anything, so I close my eyes thinking that maybe a quick nap.

Do I even feel anything properly anymore? Or are all my senses turned to eleven? Is this how Spidey’s spider sense feels? A tingle throughout your body? Sometimes it feels strange to know that you are just a brain in a jar of bones, meat and liquids. And yet, even aware of this fact, I sit here and tremble with anxiety. Anxiety, how ridiculous is that? Anxiety doesn’t make sense. It’s irrational. It’s so unbelievable to me. The more you deconstruct these the reality we live in, the more absurd it gets. Due to the fact that my gooey blob in my oval skeleton somehow has electricity in it, I get spooked. Why? Because I can see things with two gelatinous blobs in the same oval skeleton or hear with two tubes that somehow also go into the big tube that you can shove things down on and also breath through. Which are all in the same skeleton part, because of course they are. So then the jellyfish interprets it as something you must fear or run away from. Why? Because. I don’t know. We might be aware of the fact that we’re aware, yet are we truly aware if we can’t go past this whole subconscious thing the gooey electric blob has? I’m afraid of how I might think if I were on drugs? If these are my thought sober.

The weird thing is that I were to tell this to anyone, they wouldn’t understand and then I’d get even more anxious. I mean, how can you not get excited about this sort of stuff? Especially when you think that you think things with almost a literal jellyfish that named itself. And then there are people that don’t have a little voice in their heads like I do when they think. Which is even more mind blowing. Existence itself is an abomination that for now doesn’t make sense. If there is no sense before existence that we know how to explain, then how can there be sense in what we do and have right now? Religions and all that spiritual stuff simply isn’t satisfactory. It feels like giving up responsibility, sense and any need for an answer. And I can’t have that if I’m meant to create a sense for who I ought to be, at least. I don’t know. I’m afraid of being wrong. No… Not wrong. Wrong is the wrong word here. I’m afraid of being a bad person. I want to do good, be a decent person at least. And when there’s nothing to approve what you are doing it’s anxiety inducing. I hate feeling like I can’t explain or express myself, when I do it just fine.

And so I spend my days trying to fall asleep when I can’t, trying to work when I can’t, trying to feel normal, when there is no normal. Then after all is said and done, I feel bad for everything I’ve ever thought of or have done. So you wonder what the fuck, when you feel you are stuck in this pit of hell where the only thing that satisfies you is literally doing nothing of importance. As any responsibility feels like a burden and any work feels like you are disappointing someone or indeed, everyone. What do I want? What do I need? Who am I anymore when you drift away to places you have no places being at? All my drive, my will for success, my dreams seem futile in the face of people who chow down without thinking. I don’t want to think about that anymore, it makes me feel sick to my stomach. Well, at least it’s exhausting to think of these things. I can fall asleep in peace knowing that when I wake up, everything could be slightly better or just worse than it was before.

Sometimes, much like now, I feel like I just can’t care to save my life. Like what am I going to do? Save the world? Change people’s minds? Go and fall face first into a pile of money? Get a call from a publishing house telling me that they’d love to pay me a few hundred thousand to publish a book? Delusions! Delusions! I tell you. Dreams of grandeur without the ability to put in any effort is like trying to take a shit whilst constipated, nothing’s gonna come out of it. You know what, I’m not going to continue the rest of the analogy I had, hah. And so, have passed thirty minutes of me trying to calm myself down from a panic attack, yet instead of taking a nap, I distracted myself with weird thoughts that only make sense to me and me alone, which is sad, cause I’d like to share these with people. But how can I share any of those with people when people don’t even understand sarcasm in text? Yet they all say that they have their second language as sarcasm. The only second language you have, Stacy, is the Starbucks menu and the Sephora catalog. Well, this was unexpected, I say as the phone starts to ring…

Hope you liked this two chapter short story of I Write Sins… Not Tragedies. I know I didn’t post last week, this is why we have this two chapter this Saturday. But I was busy trying to reinstall stuff, refind things that I’ve lost with the new Windows install. That, and losing all my bookmarks from the past three years. And it being a very hectic weekend and week overall. If you liked it and want to support and keep the short stories free, you can always donate at: https://www.paypal.me/RaulFO

September 20, 2020
Raul FO
Short Stories, Blog

Tagged: I Write Sins… Not Tragedies, I write sins not tragedies, Nobody The Blog, Short Story, Raul F. O., Short Story Series, Short Stories, New short story, New Story, New stories, Short Story Blog, Short Story Blogger, Short Story Author, Short Stories Blog, Short Stories Blogger, Short Stories Author, Raul F. O. Short Story, Raul F. O. Short Stories, Author Short Story, Authors Short Stories, Story, Stories, Story Time, Series, I Write Sins Not Tragedies Series, I Write Sins Not Tragedies short story series, I Write Sins Not Tragedies part 37, I Write Sins Not Tragedies part 38, I Write Sins Not Tragedies episode 37, I Write Sins Not Tragedies episode 38 Nobody, Nobodies Story, Nobodies Stories, Nobody Short Story, Author Raul F. O., Author, Authors, Blog, Blogging, Blogger, Blogs, New, New Short Story, New Release, New Short Stories, literal story, literature, 2020 Short Story, 2020 Short Stories, Free Short Story, Free Short Stories, best short story, best short stories, best new short stories, New Releases, Writers, Writing, My Writing, Creative Writing, Creative Short Stories, erotic short story, erotic story, romance, romance short story, romantic story, romance story, romance novel, erotic novel, Time of Dying, Three Days Grace band, Days, Grace, Time of Dying song, Three days grace time of dying, the end, Dying, LA Salami, LA Salami Band, I wear this because life is war, war, life, clothes, clothing, best rock bands, best rock song, Literature stories

September 16, 2020
Raul FO
Short Stories, Blog

People Hate Art...

September 16, 2020
Raul FO
Short Stories, Blog
people hate art.jpg

This one is going to be a bit long, so what I want you to remember as you read this is the following… I’m trying to give you a perspective as an artist on what I’ve encountered. How people think, act and what they wouldn’t really tell anyone in a public manner. I’m not bitter about what I am doing or anything of the sorts, I’ve had my share of small successes and stories that many people read or loved. I just want to write something… Different. About something I truly and deeply care about.

I’ve been writing short stories for over 10 years now and also published four books. But through my years I also tried different styles, things to get people to read my stuff. I also went hard to learn some marketing, SEO, in order to think of ways of appealing to readers. Whether it’s using the right hashtags, trying to reach to as many people as possible, or simply posting in as many groups as possible. Yet, as the years passed, I have found people that like what I do, people that simply do not care and people that abhor me and everything I write and the fact that I have the audacity to even write and publish anything or even call myself an indie author or a short story writer, when I should be a copywriter or a “creative content writer” for some corporation like the rest of my peers that actually make money from writing. I can’t condemn them, there is no reason to. To each their own fantasy, dream or way of life. Yet, the actual things that I have learned are quite interesting, because we’re about to get into some bad double standards and hypocrisy.

So, here comes the trouble. The older I got, the more I noticed how many talented people I personally know or got to know over the internet, have a certain trouble about their careers. I met other writers, poets, painters, singers, musicians, comic book artists, designers of all kinds, photographers and whatever type of artist you can imagine, I met them all at one point in time. What do all of these talented wonderful people have in common? Correct, none of them are pursuing actively their passion even though they are talented bright minds. 99.99% of them are working at some corporation doing something they do not love, yet need, because without a job, you are not getting paid. Which is fine, but not really. We all have to compromise, I worked in places I did not really care to work at for many years too, just so I can eat and sleep without too many worries. And not every single one of those I mentioned actually want to do it as anything more than a hobby. But, we are going to focus on those that do want to become artists…

Firstly, we have to understand what it means to be an artist in the time we live in. Why? Because I did not talk about marketing, SEO and all that for nothing there. Don’t worry, I won’t get into too many details, I’m just going to brush gently the tip of it all. Whether you are a photographer, DJ, singer, musician, painter, writer, dancer, sculptor, entertainer or whatever else… Unless you are already successful and signed to a publishing house, music label or some talent agency, being an artist means being your own business. You have to think of the marketability of what you are making. The photo you are taking, is it going to appeal to the public? The song you are writing, is it tugging at the heartstrings of people or is it at least catchy? The story you are writing, is it accessible to everyone? How are you going to sell it? What hashtags are you going to use? At what time are you going to post it? Did you make a thumbnail for it? Did you think of a promo? A YouTube video? Did you use the right words in the description or tags? How are people going to find you on Google? Is the cover appealing? And I could go on with countless examples, but what I am trying to show you is that being an artist means business, literally.

Which is why 99.99% of those talented people that I spoke about work jobs that aren’t fulfilling or they are afraid to start their journey on this path of being a business owner and artist. Not only that, but you have to understand that you, as an artist ARE NOT ESSENTIAL. Rather yet, you are here to be either taken advantage of or taken for granted. Sounds like the same thing, the difference is that the record label, publishing house might rip you off in the first one and the second is people simply enjoying whatever you do and not showing their support in any way. And you might be reading this and thinking “That’s horseshit. That’s not true, that’s not how it works. Art isn’t a business. And even so, artists shouldn’t think about the public or what the public wants, but do what they want. That’s how we got all the genius works of Picasso, Shakespeare, Beethoven and many more.” Idealistically speaking, yes, sure. I thought the same way. In reality, that is not how it works. And I can prove it to you. Because you, like most people, actually hate art. I know, sorry for the long introduction.

I want to preface this, by saying that I am not talking about people that cannot afford to go to a concert, buy a painting, a book, a photo, I am talking about the rest. Think about it, statistically speaking most people do not read for pleasure, do not go to art galleries, don’t go to the theater, don’t buy music, books, photos, sculptures and barely even give a like or a share when it comes to small creators. Why? Because… The world of art is paradoxical, at least that’s how they like to call it. I call this a double standard or plain hypocrisy. Harsh words, I know, but, please continue to read. Whenever you are new to something or look for advice to start as an artist you are going to hear a few things:

1. Make whatever makes you happy: It’s straight up bs. Why? Whatever makes you happy doesn’t make others happy, nor is it interesting for others. That’s why you see indie bands do covers of popular artists, maybe they’ll get more views and someone will discover them. Or writers are writing whatever genre is popular now (dark fantasy btw, we’re past non-fiction).

2. Just start doing it: Of course it’s bs. The moment you start doing it and want to share it with a community to start to get feedback, people (both readers and writers, for example) are going to pummel you without any mercy by saying how shitty everything you do is, even though there is no way to get good at something before being bad at it. And that wouldn’t be bad, if it were constructive criticism, but, most of it isn’t. And don’t forget, if you didn’t want any criticism, you shouldn’t have made/posted that. Not just that, but we’re going into number 3, which is a spin-off of number 1.

3. Do something that makes you stand out, something that makes you special: In the same vein of the first one, if you do this, well tough luck. Because the people from number four will call you out by saying stuff like “Wtf is this bs?” and start pushing their own view of the art and how it should be onto yours, trying to mold you into their world-view. Examples from my personal life are: “Why have you written it like that? No one writes like that, you should have written in normally in a first or third person style, without all the script bs.” or “You shouldn’t use many swear words, it’s simply bad and shows how immature you are.” Btw, can we stop this and just take in consideration what the artist wanted to do there before going on the offense? And while we’re at it. Can we stop reviewing stuff after the first few seconds, minutes, pages or episodes? Thank you.

4. Well, of course no one reads/listens/sees what you are making. You have to find your niche: Bs again, and goes directly against the first advice. Why? Because you are more than just a niche or a 2D caricature, you’re a human being with many interests and your talent isn’t just in one genre, which is why you have the confidence to start your own business as an artist, you want to do many things and not get bored or do the same thing over and over again like some office worker. You’re a free spirit, damn it! A true artist. Well, tough luck, because you can’t do what you want. You have to find a niche and exploit the hell out of them, until you become somewhat successful that it reaches a bit out into the mainstream. Why? Easier to market at one niche then it is to market to everyone. See? Told you it’s all marketing in some way…

5. You don’t need an audience to do anything: You guessed it, bs. Any talent agency, LinkedIn profile that is an industry insider, worker or recruiter from a company, publishing house is looking at your social media before approaching you. Whether it’s likes, comments you made, connections you have in the industry, work you’ve done before and the number of people you have reached through streams, sales and views. Because you’re either a sure fire investment or just a risk. And of course, if you’re a risk, well then, good luck. Because unless you have a pitch that will sell them on your idea or talent, you are on your own. Unless you have an absurd amount of money. And doesn’t that simply sound amazing? Having sales pitches for people as an artist? Or buying your way into a career?

And these are just some of the examples from the inside of the art that I am performing, which I noticed in other arts as well. But, you might be asking yourself “What does this have to do with anything when it comes to people hating art?” Well, people, in this case the consumers, since this is a business, are just as easily paradoxical. Especially in this confusing time where we struggle to find a balance between individuality and mob mentality. Where everyone wants to be special, yet no one is special, but that’s an insult, because everyone is special, yet when everyone is special no one is. Because it’s a risk, of some sort. For many reasons, small artists are seen as a risk to one’s personality and character. Since no one likes to hear a “Wtf is that?” or “Do you really like this stuff? What a weirdo.” Of course, exceptions apply here too. Then there is the reality of it, if we look at the statistics most people, as I said earlier, could afford to spend more on any type of art or artist, they don’t, not even when it comes to leaving a like. Why is it hard to even leave a like? Well, it might remind one of their inadequacy, failed dreams, or their fear to follow their own passion. And here you might ask “How so?” Well, because anyone can do it. And if anyone can do it, they (the consumers) could have done exactly what you did. Yet, they didn’t, thus the inadequacy or reflection of failure. Or they might just not care about you and your art and what you do. Which is fine.

There was one other idea someone mentioned, saying “It’s not the art, it’s the artist one might hate”. Really? After countless careers and comebacks from scumbags, whether it’s literal rapists, anti-Semites, racists, xenophobes, homophobes, killers, war criminals, that all had their careers in writing, painting, acting, directing, music that are still widely celebrated today. Can you really say that it might be the artist? The only people really hating them are those affected by those specific people, even tough we all should hate them. But we don’t, we still buy their stuff. Don’t believe me? Do a search on a few of your favorite or most popular artists. I bet you’ll find a few that are absolute garbage. Yet, as garbage as they might be, they are still popular or successful. And even those that “hate” certain artists, it’s because it goes against their own tastes. For example Nickleback, Coldplay, Shakespeare, [insert your hated artist here]. And they don’t just go against their own tastes, but what they think the art form or the artist should be. Which is just another way of hating art. Also no artist is simply hated and that’s why he is unsuccessful. The unsuccessful artists, is one that simply doesn’t know how to sell himself.

Now, do people really hate art? No. Most of them are indiferent or ignorant. Some are just trying to be polite, yet hurt your feelings without knowing that you know that they didn’t like any of your posts, didn’t buy your album when they said they would or didn’t even read the page you sent them to read it. But in turn they all tell you that they support you and cheer you on. Not knowing that you can’t exchange support and cheers for goods and services. Can’t condone them, just pointing out why marketing and knowing how to sell yourself is so important. Because no matter whether you are close friends, acquaintances or were coworkers at some point, people, even those you know, aren’t going to do more then tell you that they are supporting you. Which means your only hope is marketing, good luck and endless days and nights of working to get yourself seen by others. Seen, not selling. Because before I let you go, we’re going to talk about the weird paradox that is trying to sell something as an artist.

To put it in simple terms, DON’T! In any way, shape or form DO NOT try to SELL anything to anyone. Art is supposed to be pure, for the pleasure of it, you know what you got yourself into and no one is going to buy anything from you because you shouldn’t sell your art like that, especially when you are new into an industry. You should do things for exposure. And you shouldn’t act like a multi billion dollar business like Disney, you are just an amateur that wrote one song or one book or took one photo, you’re not a real artist. You’re a band? You better put that song from free on Spotify or YouTube, do not dare to ask for 99 cents. You’re a writer? You better sell that 500 book page you spent endless hours writing it, editing it, paying a proof-reader, an editor and an artist to design your cover for only 99 cents or give it for free, because no one will buy it. Photographer or painter? You better work for exposure and post your stuff free on Instagram to look at. Yet here we are, as people and as artists telling ourselves this bullshit that simply isn’t true. Sure, there are outliers, exceptions to these rules. But for any one exception there are ten thousand people that didn’t have the luck the successful ones that, another ten thousand that weren’t discovered by someone popular that boosted them into popularity, and another ten thousand that died poor and became famous posthumously and another ten thousand that didn’t have the money to buy themselves into a career. Sure, there were another ten thousand that weren’t good enough, but those are just ten thousand out of fifty thousand talented, unlucky, poor, undiscovered people.

Do people hate art? Probably, yes. Why? Ignorance, most likely. People do not understand how artists work, first and foremost. They think that like someone that works an normal 9 to 5, an artists wakes up, paints all day and goes to sleep. Yet, art isn’t that simple. You need to practice, you need to study, you need to think on “Is it good, interesting or new? How will I do this? Does this make sense? Can I afford the time and money to do it? Do I like the aesthetics? Will people like it enough on its on to buy it? How do I market it if they don’t?” and that’s just the tip of the iceberg, as you probably know by now from everything I wrote until now. To make matters worse, it’s been 4 years since I published my first book, and I still have to explain to people that what I do isn’t quite normal and that it doesn’t work the same way as any other job. Then as you read, people do not think of art as a business, and those that think of art as a business, hate it.

Also, there’s the matter of art itself, which some believe art to be something of such emotional power that it shakes you to your core or even deconstructs you from within. That, is something that is hard to grasp for the general audience. But not only that, it is also something terrifying to experience. And let’s not forget, if you can’t understand art, well, that means that you are stupid and that makes you feel bad. No one wants to feel bad, right? In the same category, some art can remind you what a failure you are and what you could have done or become, because look at this person doing it and getting fame and money for it,as I wrote before. There are so many reasons for art not to be understood, misunderstood, hated, feared and much more, that it’s too much for me to incorporate in this post. Yet, I hope you understand it a bit better. And yes, hate is a strong word, yet people dislike or can’t be bothered by art isn’t as catchy of a title. Hope you learned something about how art “works” and how artists have to be more than simply artists to survive, because thriving involves too much luck. So, hopefully now you will support your local artists with more than just a like or a cheer. Also, I did not mention any crazy nut that has an extreme ideology that wants to censor art and have it not be obscene or whatever other things that fall in a any kind of religious, fascist, communist, any dictatorship mentality. Why? Because whether it’s the Christian, Islam, Jewish, Nazi, Communist ideology, they all censor art. So, I’m going to leave it at that when it comes to that, because those are hopefully well known by people and things.

I know, I’ve rambled for quite a bit. But I am a believer in giving a solution, instead of just complaining. The last time I complained about writers and authors, especially the indie breed, my solution was to price any ebook at a minimum price of 5$, instead of selling themselves short and dragging the industry down by giving away books to people that just store them in their kindle library, yet never read them. So, what’s the solution here? It’s simple.

  1. Cut the toxicity out of any art form: How do you to do that? Anyone that is a gatekeeper of any sort, a snob or does not accept any and all forms of the art, must be humbled and made to remember that the more they do this, the less people will be willing to interact with the medium or even be willing to understand it. Also, for the gatekeepers, in this day and age, any information is widely available to anyone that searches even a little bit online. So, even if you wanted, you can’t stop it. More and more indie authors are becoming best-sellers and finding success. Same with bands, painters, photographers, dancers, and so on and so forth, because there are free platforms anyone can use. You might read this and think “Well then, aren’t you contradicting yourself here a bit?” No. Again, there are and always will be outliers. But, that doesn’t diminish or exclude anything I wrote above.

  2. Stomp out the scammers and those that give out the art form a bad name: What do I mean by this? Writers that buy or exchange reviews to get better ratings on site and get quick sales to make a quick buck, should be made fun of and ridiculed, in such a way that those thinking of doing such things, will reconsider once they do a bit of research. This is just an example. Of course you have singers and bands buying bots to play their song on streaming services to get plays and get in some top. Which can be dealt the same way. And I could give you an example from each and every art form where things like this happen.

  3. Be more welcoming: Now, I know the first two sound not so very welcoming, but the truth of the matter is that the market has literally never been as free or open as it is now. Want to publish a book? Done, in 5 minutes. Want to publish a podcast/song/spoken word poetry? Done in 2 minutes. Want to post your painting for sale? Boom, done in 2 minutes. You can do whatever you want and there is no one to stop you but your own knowledge of marketing and how to sell yourself and how to operate like a business. Not just that, but the cultural festivals that become more and more available everywhere are mixing arts. Giving people more chances to be exposed to something new and different. Also, by being more welcoming, you invite new voices to bring new innovation in the art.

  4. Complain: I know I said I don’t like to complain a lot without giving a solution but, the more you bring forth the problems in a certain industry, the more people complain, the more likely the chance of a change. Examples? Every writer’s strike in Hollywood was a success in some way. Not just that, but you also educate people on the problems within. I know it sounds bad to complain and people don’t want to hear it. But people well, look at what is happening when people “don’t want to hear it”. You can’t see it, but I am gesturing broadly at everything regarding 2020.

Well, this has been weighing on my chest for some time. And if you honestly, read it until here, without jumping to conclusions in the comment section, I applaud you for your patience. I rarely write something this long that isn’t part of a book. And, if you have a genuine response that is constructive and makes a solid argument, I am always willing to discuss it. And if you enjoyed this, please do check out the rest of my short stories or maybe buy a book or four. And if you would like to donate to show your support, you can do so at: https://www.paypal.me/RaulFO

September 16, 2020
Raul FO
Short Stories, Blog

Tagged: People hate art, The Pilot Program, Nobody The Blog, Short Story, Raul F. O., Short Story Series, Short Stories, Short Story Blog, Short Story Blogger, Short Story Author, Short Stories Blog, Short Stories Blogger, Short Stories Author, Raul F. O. Short Story, Raul F. O. Short Stories, Author Short Story, Authors Short Stories, Story, Stories, Story Time, Series, Nobody, Nobodies Story, Nobodies Stories, Nobody Short Story, Author Raul F. O., Author, Authors, Blog, Blogging, Blogger, Blogs, New, New Story, New Short Story, New Short Stories, Free Stories, Free Short Story, Free Short Stories, Best short story, best short stories, best new short stories, New Release, New Releases, Writers, Writing, My Writing, Creative Writing, Creative Short Stories, literal stories, literature, 2020 short story, 2020 short stories, September short story, art, artists, artistic freedom, censorship, hating art, hating artists, most hated artists, love of art, art is a business, business, marketing your art, marketing your book, marketing your paintings, marketing your photos, selling your photos, selling your books, selling your paintings, how artists work, how artists get paid, how art works, selling your music

September 8, 2020
Raul FO
Short Stories, Blog

I Write Sins... Not Tragedies 36 - In The End

September 8, 2020
Raul FO
Short Stories, Blog
36.jpg

I don’t know how to help you. I don’t know if anyone can help you with any of these problems you choose to have. As she speaks, she slowly approaches me. Maybe some things aren’t meant to be thought through and fought on your own. Progress should be slow, painful yet steady and not a jump into whatever future you have imagined yourself to have. And I don’t know what you are trying to convince yourself of, but it is clearly not working. Since you seem to only suffer more by your own anxious hand. I start to break down and cry as something in my chest crumbles. I feel so useless and dumb, I say as she strokes my hair. But you’re not. Things simply are more complicated than you thought they’d be. You’re trying to fight an unwinnable battle against change. Because it takes time, hundreds of years and you don’t have that, I don’t have that. I cling onto her tightly. That’s exactly the problem, I cry out.

Annoyed, she backs off and sits at the table. Listen, she says whilst scratching her head, you know I support you in everything you have and I love you for doing all this. But you are so much smarter than this and yet you struggle to figure out how to do what you love. Why? I stand up looking her into the eyes. Because I can’t. They are my dreams. They are not your dreams or anyone else’s but mine. What I want, you don’t like. What I love, they hate. What I need, they think it’s a pain in the ass to even think about. And I know this. But, at the same time, I don’t know what they want. And even if I knew, what difference would it make? Because I wouldn’t be able to give them what they want. That’s besides the fact that they don’t even know what they want. They barely know what they’ll eat tomorrow, who should they know what to do with their lives or even what to want or need? I am lost in this sea of uncertainty. She giggles. We all are. It’s we just call it life, you drama queen.

Not helpful, I interject as I pull the chair from under the table and sit down. I hate that we just gloss over all these things like they aren’t meant to be solved. I mean, why be decent? Why bother at all when we can’t do the basics? It’s like everyone’s trying to fly planes without taking the damn course to learn how to pilot. It’s absolutely ridiculous and it bothers me beyond belief. If we have a mutual responsibility towards each other… Because in the end it might not matter. Nor can you stop to consider literally everyone, she interrupts me. That’s not what I’m saying, I slam my hand on the table. There are things we all agreed are bad, right? Things that we won’t do because they’re objectively bad, right? So, then why can’t we just abide by the things we made that could make our lives easier? We’re the ones making the fucking rules, we’re the ones that should fucking follow the most basic of them all. Fuck! She gets up. I don’t think you’ll ever find a satisfactory answer to this. And leaves…

Hope you liked this chapter of the short story I Write Sins… I am so so very sorry it is late. But my laptop decided to die on me this weekend and I had a lot of catching up to do. And reinstalling things, which I’m still not done with. But should be back regularly starting this week. And if you want to help keep the short stories free, you can always donate at: https://www.paypal.me/RaulFO

September 8, 2020
Raul FO
Short Stories, Blog

Tagged: I Write Sins… Not Tragedies, I write sins not tragedies, Nobody The Blog, Short Story, Raul F. O., Short Story Series, Short Stories, New short story, New Story, New stories, Short Story Blog, Short Story Blogger, Short Story Author, Short Stories Blog, Short Stories Blogger, Short Stories Author, Raul F. O. Short Story, Raul F. O. Short Stories, Author Short Story, Authors Short Stories, Story, Stories, Story Time, Series, I Write Sins Not Tragedies Series, I Write Sins Not Tragedies short story series, I Write Sins Not Tragedies part 36, I Write Sins Not Tragedies episode 36, Nobody, Nobodies Story, Nobodies Stories, Nobody Short Story, Author Raul F. O., Author, Authors, Blog, Blogging, Blogger, Blogs, New, New Short Story, New Release, New Short Stories, literal story, literature, 2020 Short Story, 2020 Short Stories, Free Short Story, Free Short Stories, best short story, best short stories, best new short stories, New Releases, Writers, Writing, My Writing, Creative Writing, Creative Short Stories, erotic short story, erotic story, romance, romance short story, romantic story, romance story, romance novel, erotic novel, In the end, linkin park band, linkin park, park, in the end song, Linkin Park In the end, the end, best rock bands, best rock song, Literature stories

August 29, 2020
Raul FO
Short Stories, Blog

I Write Sins... Not Tragedies 35 - Chop Suey

August 29, 2020
Raul FO
Short Stories, Blog
35.jpg

Why are you doing this to yourself? She asks with a soft whisper in my ear, holding my head in her arms. Who cares? I raise my head. I care. It unsettles me to not know these things. I can’t function without knowing this. But why? She interrupts. Because I need to know, no, I need to feel that I am doing better, am being better. She takes a step back. What do you mean doing better? I need to know that I am doing and that I am doing it the right way. I don’t know how to explain the void that is in my heart when I have to think or do something that has no answer. I need to feel like I’ve done something right. Because I’ve done things… I’ve done many things. Whether they failed or not, it didn’t feel like they mattered if they were the right or wrong thing. And I hate it. I despise it. I want to do better. I want to leave some wisdom behind. Something of value to someone. My son or daughter, the reader that reads whatever I write, the love of my life that listens to what I have to say… To anyone that accepts to even hear me for that matter.

Stop it! Stop putting so much pressure on yourself. You’re not a super man. You are not a hero of all. You’re you. And you have to accept that it’s fine that you are you. She says whilst hugging me. I know, I say as I push her back. I know all that. But I can’t forgive myself if I won’t find out the answer. I know I can find the answer to this. Imagine if you could answer questions that irked humanity for thousands of years and solve frustrations, problems, wouldn’t you do it? Of course, you would. Any sane, decent person would. But most give up. Most surrender. They flee. Because there’s responsibility. Accountability from the future already judging them or worse, mocking them if they were wrong. Look at all these fallen greats, people we worshiped once now forgotten. Any wisdom they might have had thrown out the window because they once said something that was proven wrong by time and advancements. Each generation that comes after us will judge us. I already feel horrible for how I’ve been until now. I don’t need any more of that.

I get it. But why are you torturing yourself with answers that need not be? I take another step back. Because they are needed. People don’t have them. They must be needed. Think about it. All these things we are frustrated about, simply accepting them as a natural order or whatever, do us no good. When you hit yourself on unsatisfactory answer after unsatisfactory answer it is simply so UGH! I can’t fucking deal with it. What the fuck is the point of being if you can’t solve problems that have an answer, because it’s just there. You just have to look at it, work at it and then simply get it. Why can’t people simply be decent? Not good, decent. If people were decent, none of this wouldn’t be a problem. And yes, you can say that if I discover some answers, I might go down in history or something. But that’s simply being delusional or worse, an asshole. And that defeats the purpose of everything I just said. I’m exhausted. I am tired. I don’t know what the fuck to do anymore… Help me…

If you liked this chapter of the short story I Write Sins… don’t forget to like it, share it, comment with your opinion down in the comments. And if you want to help keep these short stories free, you can always help by donating at: https://www.paypal.me/RaulFO

August 29, 2020
Raul FO
Short Stories, Blog

Tagged: I Write Sins… Not Tragedies, I write sins not tragedies, Nobody The Blog, Short Story, Raul F. O., Short Story Series, Short Stories, New short story, New Story, New stories, Short Story Blog, Short Story Blogger, Short Story Author, Short Stories Blog, Short Stories Blogger, Short Stories Author, Raul F. O. Short Story, Raul F. O. Short Stories, Author Short Story, Authors Short Stories, Story, Stories, Story Time, Series, I Write Sins Not Tragedies Series, I Write Sins Not Tragedies short story series, I Write Sins Not Tragedies part 35, I Write Sins Not Tragedies episode 35, Nobody, Nobodies Story, Nobodies Stories, Nobody Short Story, Author Raul F. O., Author, Authors, Blog, Blogging, Blogger, Blogs, New, New Short Story, New Release, New Short Stories, literal story, literature, 2020 Short Story, 2020 Short Stories, Free Short Story, Free Short Stories, best short story, best short stories, best new short stories, New Releases, Writers, Writing, My Writing, Creative Writing, Creative Short Stories, erotic short story, erotic story, romance, romance short story, romantic story, romance story, romance novel, erotic novel, Chop Suey, System of a Down Band, System, System of a Down, Chop Suey song, System of a Down Chop Suey, best rock bands, best rock song, Literature stories

August 22, 2020
Raul FO
Short Stories, Blog

I Write Sins... Not Tragedies 34 - Dream On

August 22, 2020
Raul FO
Short Stories, Blog
34.jpg

I’ve been having these vivid, almost realistic dreams where I couldn’t tell one apart from the other. She looks at me, waiting… I don’t know what you expect me to tell you. They are frightening. The sensations, I can feel everything in those dreams. The smell, the touch, the texture, the taste, I can describe everything to you in way too many details. And I don’t know why. I don’t know why the dreams feel like that. And the nightmares are worse… She pauses and looks at me once more. I don’t know what to make of it. They say that when you dream of strangers, it’s because you met them recently. She interrupts. I heard something like that too. Certain face imprint in your subconscious when you find them attractive or bizarre. I nod. Yeah, something like that. But what I don’t understand is what is wrong with me? Why am I having those dreams? She once more turns towards me. I have some ideas, but they’re insignificant or plain dumb to be real in some sense. Either that, or I believe myself to be better than what I think the problem is. Deny myself human flaws.

She starts laughing. Or, if I may suggest this, you are overthinking it. We each have desires and wants. But as long as we don’t act on them or we don’t take them too far, I think we’re okay, as humans, in general. I turn towards her. Sure, but what does it say about you? What does it say about how you feel? What you think? How you are as a human, if… They’re dreams, she quickly interjects. You can judge yourself by dreams. Yes you can, I say as I look at her with a disgruntled face. That’s stupid. No one will ever do that. People barely judge themselves by their conscious actions. You are being unreasonable for no reason. I don’t care about others, I say as I get up from the table. We are not people… I don’t care about people. I care about me and everything that is beyond whatever anyone thinks. And that’s why everyone thinks you’re an asshole, she shouts. I don’t care what they think. They are worse than I am! And I want to be better, way better than they are!

Dreams are the projection of our mind in some for, be it conscious or not. And it matters. It has to matter. She turns towards me. Only because you want it to matter. Not that it does. Yes it does, I interrupt her. Listen, if you are smoking one cigarette every single day, at one point you are going to start smoking more and more without knowing it. Why? Because you normalize it! The same thing goes with dreams. If you choose to normalize whatever shitty behavior you have in your mind, you are going to act on it at some point. It basically building courage to do the thing you want to, no matter how bad or immoral it may be. As long as you can justify it to yourself, then everything is okay. I believe it’s the same sort of bias, where if you do something good, you allow yourself to do something bad to balance things out. So, if you’re unhappy, let’s say in your relationship, and you justify cheating by saying you put up with me as being a good thing, then you will simply do it. Which is fucked… And I hate it… She stands up, stops me in my tracks…

If you liked this chapter of the short story I Write Sins… Not Tragedies, don’t forget to like it, share it and tell me your opinion about what dreams say about you in the comments. And if you want to help more and to keep these short stories free, you can always donate at: https://www.paypal.me/RaulFO

August 22, 2020
Raul FO
Short Stories, Blog

Tagged: I Write Sins… Not Tragedies, I write sins not tragedies, Nobody The Blog, Short Story, Raul F. O., Short Story Series, Short Stories, New short story, New Story, New stories, Short Story Blog, Short Story Blogger, Short Story Author, Short Stories Blog, Short Stories Blogger, Short Stories Author, Raul F. O. Short Story, Raul F. O. Short Stories, Author Short Story, Authors Short Stories, Story, Stories, Story Time, Series, I Write Sins Not Tragedies Series, I Write Sins Not Tragedies short story series, I Write Sins Not Tragedies part 34, I Write Sins Not Tragedies episode 34, Nobody, Nobodies Story, Nobodies Stories, Nobody Short Story, Author Raul F. O., Author, Authors, Blog, Blogging, Blogger, Blogs, New, New Short Story, New Release, New Short Stories, literal story, literature, 2020 Short Story, 2020 Short Stories, Free Short Story, Free Short Stories, best short story, best short stories, best new short stories, New Releases, Writers, Writing, My Writing, Creative Writing, Creative Short Stories, erotic short story, erotic story, romance, romance short story, romantic story, romance story, romance novel, erotic novel, Aerosmith, Aerosmith Band, Dream, Dreams, Dream on song, Aerosmith Dream On, Eminem, Eminem Dream On, best rock bands, best rock song, Literature stories

August 18, 2020
Raul FO
Short Stories, Blog

Three Strings And A Lie - The Pilot Program 2020

August 18, 2020
Raul FO
Short Stories, Blog

Welcome to The Pilot Program 2020 once more for the short story of August. Every month I write a new short story which you can read, like, share, comment on. And in doing so, you cast your vote to choose what I will write as a short story series for the next year. Three Strings And A Lie is the 8th short story of this year. Hope you like it and don’t forget to check out previous entries in this series.

three.jpg

He died alone in a room in the basement of his mansion. No windows, one way out, and three people in the whole house. Quickly interrupted by a snarky voice. Yes, but you could argue that we are five. If you include the deceased. He turns whilst rubbing his beard. Yes, of course. And we will be a few more once the police arrive. But there were only the three of you and a dead body in a nasty smelling room by the time I got here… Lady or Miss… Now tell me, he starts walking up the stairs looking her in the eyes, how could Mister Deceased over there have died? With the same snarky tone she continues. Like how should I know? Isn’t it why you are here? He smiles as his hand leaves his beard. Indeed, he starts whistling as he goes up the stairs and into the hallway. Come on. What are you still doing there? Want to burn your nose hairs? Besides, he is not going to come back to life if you continue to stare at him. The three follow him into the hallway. Who found him? The snarky voice spoke once more… We three did. We smelled something horrid and came to the source. He starts scratching his beard once more. Where’s a place we can sit, ponder and mourn Mister Departed? A young man points him to the right. The living room is this way. He chuckles. Something rather funny? Some joke? The snarky voice asks once more. No. Pardon me.

Excuse my rashness, but do any of you know how the man died? They shake their heads. So, you found him simply lying there face down in that room. They all say yes calmly one after the other. Then might any of you know why he had no shirt on? They once more shake their heads. Lady… Miss… Beth. Where were you today? She turns red. I wasn’t at home, to put it bluntly. He chuckles. Anything funny? She asks. No. Please, continue. She takes a deep breath. I was on a date. He takes a closer look at her. Dressed like that? She rolls her eyes at him. Yes. Do we have a problem with trousers? They are comfortable. He takes a step back. No. Actually, I’d prefer it. Easier to commit the murder, wouldn’t you say? She scoffs. Yes, just as easy as him wearing slippers or him wearing those weird brown shoes. He turns curiously and looks closely at the slippers. What are you doing in those at this hour? Mister I-Don’t-Know. He scratches his head. Otto is my name. I just woke up. He starts playing with his beard again. Just now? What are you doing for a living? Otto takes a step back. Copywriting, and I don’t know. He nods and turns his attention towards the brown shoes. And you? He looks up at him. Andrew. I was… Working. Turning towards Beth and Otto as they shrug. What exactly are you working? He sighs. I can’t explain it properly. It’s a lot of things in one job. The title is meaningless, it’s there just for tax purposes. It’s an office job, simply put. Pepper scratches his head. Do you have a limp, Andrew? Confused by the questions he shakes his head, putting one leg over the other.

Now… That we have introduced ourselves and what we did today. The snarky voice once more interrupts him. But we didn’t. I still don’t know your name, mister… With a smile he takes a step back once more. My name is Pepper. I thought you’d know. Since Mister Deceased somehow, invited me here today with an open letter. Beth and Andrew stand up. What? We thought you were a detective with the police. He puts his hands out. Now, now. Calm down. There is a dead man in a suspiciously empty basement with no windows that sent me a letter knowing he would die today. How and why? Otto. He turns towards Pepper. We emptied the basement last week. We always wanted to do it, but never got around to it, so after two weeks of looking through stuff, we finally did it. But we couldn’t agree what to do with it, so we left it like that. He nods. Beth. She sits down. I don’t know what else you want me to tell you. We all have our reasons to hate him. Pepper looks up at Andrew. Mother died when we were little. Father couldn’t really cope with everything. So we were left to our own devices. Pepper once more turns towards Beth. He was a pathetic excuse of a man, simply pitiful. Pepper turns his gaze towards Otto. She’s right. Maybe… He raises his brow at what Otto was about to say. Maybe he finally found the courage to kill himself, interrupts again Beth. Well, isn’t that tragic? Pepper interjects. But, even so. How? There are no strangulation marks, no cuts, no blood, no anything to that former of a man, now corpse, to show that he has killed himself. So how could he have died face down and shirtless?

What was written in the letter you got? Pepper turns towards Beth and closes his eyes and says... On this day, I shall day as I came. breath in, breath out, with no one to blame. I want to forgive them as I’d like to forgive myself for my mistakes and weaknesses. I never wanted to create evil in this world, so take this letter and key to solve my murder. Take the money and hold whoever is responsible for my death accountable, I don’t want my mistakes to burden the world. She scoffs. What a dick. Andrew gets up once more with an angry expression, as Otto leans back on the wall. Pepper looks at them with pity and disgust. So. Three children, one’s daddy’s boy. One’s a parasite. And one’s simply immature. Yet surprisingly all good liars. And none the wiser to tell me who killed their pathetic father. One of you sent me this letter, since it was opened. All you three found him dead at the same time. Now that’s some marvelous coincidence. Since it seems that you two came home roughly at the same time as he woke up. I wonder for how many days he was left there to die in that empty room? Before the one that sent me this letter found the key to open the room. Beth tries to interject, but Pepper quickly shuts her down. One of you is the murderer and has a similar key to this one, since Otto seemed kind enough to provide it with the letter. Andrew and Beth turn towards Otto as they get up angrily from their seats. Now, now, show me your keys. They both refuse. It doesn’t matter, the police will be here in a minute or two, so either way, this is over. Reluctantly, both hand over their keys on Pepper’s handkerchief. Well, neither of you seem to have the key. Did you lose it? Or did you not have time to dispose of it because your sister came home early from her date? No need to answer, just let’s fix your walking problem. Take off your shoes. He takes them off, just as police sirens are heard outside the house. It was all their idea! They’re just as guilty as I am. Pepper quickly interjects. We all have an urge like that, we all have that worst thought ever. Yet the difference is that they did not act on it. You did. Otto found out too late to do anything but find the key, duplicate it and prove you’re guilty. And Beth couldn’t stand him, so she tried to avoid him as much as possible. So she couldn’t know of him or his situation, just as he finishes this sentence Beth starts crying. And that, was the day I met Pepper at my first crime scene…

Hope you enjoyed this murder mystery short story that is part of The Pilot Program 2020. If you want more, don’t forget that you choose what I write by liking, sharing, commenting and reading it over and over again. There might be one more short story for this year’s Pilot Program, but it also might not. So go back and read this year’s short story contenders for what might become the 2021 Short Story Series on Nobody The Blog. And if you want to help even more, you can always donate at: https://www.paypal.me/RaulFO

August 18, 2020
Raul FO
Short Stories, Blog

Tagged: Three Strings and A Lie, The Pilot Program, Nobody The Blog, Short Story, Raul F. O., Short Story Series, Short Stories, Short Story Blog, Short Story Blogger, Short Story Author, Short Stories Blog, Short Stories Blogger, Short Stories Author, Raul F. O. Short Story, Raul F. O. Short Stories, Author Short Story, Authors Short Stories, Story, Stories, Story Time, Series, Three Strings and A Lie The Pilot Program Series, The Pilot Program 2020, The Pilot Program short story series, Three Strings and A Lie The Pilot Program 2020, Three Strings and A Lie Short Story, Three Strings and A Lie Short Stories, Three Strings and A Lie Story, Three Strings and A Lie Free Short Story, Nobody, Nobodies Story, Nobodies Stories, Nobody Short Story, Author Raul F. O., Author, Authors, Blog, Blogging, Blogger, Blogs, New, New Story, New Short Story, New Short Stories, Free Stories, Free Short Story, Free Short Stories, Best short story, best short stories, best new short stories, New Release, New Releases, Writers, Writing, My Writing, Creative Writing, Creative Short Stories, literal stories, literature, 2020 short story, 2020 short stories, August short story, Killing, Killers, mystery, crime, crime mystery, unsolved mysteries, case closed, detective conan, Sherlock, Sherlock Holmes, Clue, Knives Out, Murder Mystery, who dunit, detective stories, private eye

August 15, 2020
Raul FO
Short Stories, Blog

I Write Sins... Not Tragedies 33 - Paranoid

August 15, 2020
Raul FO
Short Stories, Blog
33.jpg

What are you talking about? She takes a step back. Don’t say that. You know what I’m talking about. I’m not in the mood for this… I don’t ever remember you being so forgetful. So, how about you tell me what shouldn’t I know? Frightened she looks at me. I have no clue what you are talking about. I slam my hand on the table. Yes you do. Don’t play dumb, of course you do. You know everything. There is no way you don’t know what I am talking about or referencing. So, what the fuck am I supposed to not know? My hands are shaking. I really have no clue what you are on about. Where did this… I stand up. Don’t do this to me. Don’t do this to me now. You… She takes another step back and hits the door behind her. When did I say that? What are you talking about? I slam my hand on the table again. Yesterday! Not a week ago, not a few months ago, but yesterday! You told a dude, at your work, that I shouldn’t know about something.

Her eyes get teary. I don’t know. Bullshit! I scream. There is no fucking way that you don’t remember that. It was right during our call. But I didn’t talk to anyone during our call, she says. Yes, you did. What the fuck are you on about? You put your phone away for some reason and didn’t hang up thinking I will. And then you started fucking flirting and telling that guy about something that I shouldn’t know about! So tell me. What the fuck should I not know about? And since when? Since when should I not know about things? Seems to me… I sit down. It seems to me like you’re not happy, anymore. Like, I’m not happy anymore. Like, I don’t know why we are even doing this anymore. Do you ever ask yourself why we’re doing this? Or… What are we doing? Because I… Don’t know anymore. I don’t know what you are doing. I don’t know what I am doing. I don’t even want to know. Because I’m afraid whatever you might say, is… Worse than I imagined. And I don’t want that.

She stands there looking at me. Her eyes watering… I don’t know either. I just don’t want to fight or worse… And… The thing you shouldn’t know about was stupid. Because it wasn’t even anything. It was just an idea I had about something I thought to buy. But then, I looked for it and saw that it was dumb and gave up on it last night. This is why I told you not to hold onto things, because I already forgot about it and it wasn’t even anything important. Yes it was, I say, it very much was. And I didn’t, because it happened yesterday. Yes, she interrupts me, but you could have called me again and not wait a whole night to start a fight. I’m sorry, I say. She starts laughing. I can’t believe it. It took you this many years to admit you were wrong for one. At least I did, I tell her as I start laughing too. Please don’t make this a habit, she says as she hugs me. Please don’t do that anymore then… She nods as her tears hit the top of my head. Okay…

If you enjoyed this chapter of the short story I Write Sins… don’t forget to give it a like, share it and comment. And if you’d really like to help, you can always donate to keep the short stories free at: https://www.paypal.me/RaulFO

August 15, 2020
Raul FO
Short Stories, Blog

Tagged: I Write Sins… Not Tragedies, I write sins not tragedies, Nobody The Blog, Short Story, Raul F. O., Short Story Series, Short Stories, New short story, New Story, New stories, Short Story Blog, Short Story Blogger, Short Story Author, Short Stories Blog, Short Stories Blogger, Short Stories Author, Raul F. O. Short Story, Raul F. O. Short Stories, Author Short Story, Authors Short Stories, Story, Stories, Story Time, Series, I Write Sins Not Tragedies Series, I Write Sins Not Tragedies short story series, I Write Sins Not Tragedies part 33, I Write Sins Not Tragedies episode 33, Nobody, Nobodies Story, Nobodies Stories, Nobody Short Story, Author Raul F. O., Author, Authors, Blog, Blogging, Blogger, Blogs, New, New Short Story, New Release, New Short Stories, literal story, literature, 2020 Short Story, 2020 Short Stories, Free Short Story, Free Short Stories, best short story, best short stories, best new short stories, New Releases, Writers, Writing, My Writing, Creative Writing, Creative Short Stories, erotic short story, erotic story, romance, romance short story, romantic story, romance story, romance novel, erotic novel, Black, Black Sabbath Band, Black Sabbath, Paranoid song, Black Sabbath Paranoid, Ozzy, Ozzy Osborne, best rock bands, best rock song, Literature stories

August 8, 2020
Raul FO
Short Stories, Blog

I Write Sins... Not Tragedies 32 - Laughing

August 8, 2020
Raul FO
Short Stories, Blog
32.jpg

My eyes open to a white ceiling and an empty bed. The covers tossed together by the edge, my pillow on the ground, the sounds of cars passing by jolts my brain into a long yawn and a stretch before I get up from the bed. I get up, open the door to our room, step outside as the acrid smell of coffee hits my nose and drags me to the kitchen. Tired, out of it, I sit down on the chiar, head in my hands in front of the espresso machine. The vivid images of that thing in my dream is still haunting me as I blink. Her disgusting sounds as she morphed into that thing give me goosebumps. Yet from it all, I still don’t understand my dream, not that I remember anything else from it, now that I had a minute to think. But in my gut, a sinking feelings sets as regret shows its ugly head for something I hadn’t done but dreamed off. I wish I could understand myself better… A familiar voice from my left speaks up… We all wish the same thing. As her hand goes into my hair and plays with it.

Are you okay? I shake my head. Want me to make you a coffee? I get up and nod. Want some breakfast too? I once more nod as I lay my head on the table. I don’t know what I am doing anymore. I feel so useless. As she opens the coffee jar she turns towards me with a smile and says… Aren’t you a bit of a hypocrite right now? You tell others that it is okay not to know or feel lost, yet… Here you are. Lamenting normalcy, like that’s a bad thing. I groan as I hit my head on the table. Let me suffer for once. Don’t come at me with logic when I just want to feel. Let me feel. She scoffs as she finishes preparing the coffee. What’s wrong, dear? You on your period? She pets my head in jest. Ha, ha. Very funny. She turns on the espresso machine. You’d think that after many years of having the luxury to think about things we plebs don’t have the time to think of, that you’d master the ‘there is nothing you can do attitude’. The machine stops. After last years’ panic attacks, I thought so to. But, I was wrong. I get up to go get milk for the coffee.

Wanna talk? As I pour the cold milk straight into the coffee, I shake my head. You sure? I put the cap back on and go back towards the fridge. Yeah, I’m sure. I’d like to tell you something, but I don’t even know what’s wrong with me or what I want or who I am anymore and… She puts her arms around me. Calm down. I hug her back. Even if I calm down. It’s not going to feel too great. I don’t know how to explain it. She puts her head on my shoulder. I know, I know. My mind goes blank for a second as we hug. Everything seems to have calmed down. Come, sit. Your coffee is going to get cold. As I sit there, smiling, nothing in mind I lose myself looking into nothingness. Her voice, mixes with the noise of the cars and the voice of the people walking and talking outside. I can’t hear anything anymore, nor see anything but the vague shape of my mug and hands as I sip on the coffee. Peaceful, ever so peaceful, as I turn my head to look outside the window at the blue sky. A car honks, I snap out of it with a question perturbing the calm mind. Without a filter, thought, or anything to stop it, I blurt out… So, what were you telling that guy that I shouldn’t know about while you were at work?

Hope you enjoyed today’s chapter of the short story I Write Sins… If you liked it, then please like it, share it and re-read it. And if you would like to help keep the short stories free you can always help with a donation at: https://www.paypal.me/RaulFO

August 8, 2020
Raul FO
Short Stories, Blog

Tagged: I Write Sins… Not Tragedies, I write sins not tragedies, Nobody The Blog, Short Story, Raul F. O., Short Story Series, Short Stories, New short story, New Story, New stories, Short Story Blog, Short Story Blogger, Short Story Author, Short Stories Blog, Short Stories Blogger, Short Stories Author, Raul F. O. Short Story, Raul F. O. Short Stories, Author Short Story, Authors Short Stories, Story, Stories, Story Time, Series, I Write Sins Not Tragedies Series, I Write Sins Not Tragedies short story series, I Write Sins Not Tragedies part 32, I Write Sins Not Tragedies episode 32, Nobody, Nobodies Story, Nobodies Stories, Nobody Short Story, Author Raul F. O., Author, Authors, Blog, Blogging, Blogger, Blogs, New, New Short Story, New Release, New Short Stories, literal story, literature, 2020 Short Story, 2020 Short Stories, Free Short Story, Free Short Stories, best short story, best short stories, best new short stories, New Releases, Writers, Writing, My Writing, Creative Writing, Creative Short Stories, erotic short story, erotic story, romance, romance short story, romantic story, romance story, romance novel, erotic novel, The Who, The Who Band, The Guess Who, Laughing song, Who, Doctor Who, Joker Song, The Who Joker trailer song, The Guess Who Laughing, best rock bands, best rock song, Literature stories

August 1, 2020
Raul FO
Short Stories, Blog

I Write Sins... Not Tragedies 31 - Behind Blue Eyes

August 1, 2020
Raul FO
Short Stories, Blog
31.jpg

I remember looking outside my window every summer day and feeling nothing but emptiness. My room, dark, yet outside the sun was always bright in the clear sky. Not that I drew the curtains. It felt like I was always drowning in something. The weight of my thoughts, expectations, dreams, friends and family was taking me deeper into that hole, suffocating me at the thought that I need to be somebody. Yet every time I let go. They come back and chain me once more to drag me to the bottom. Which is why I grew up thinking love will save me. Will give me wings to fly, to rise above it all, to help me become something more to help me be… More than I am today. Like a breath of fresh air when you feel like a stone lies heavy on your chest…. Love was supposed to save me from it all. To push me forwards into the stratosphere so I can be out of breath but this time for a good reason… Because I’m in love. Because I am for the first time happy. Myself. Because I became myself for the first time… And was happy because of that.

Yet this darkness is soothing no more. The nights I spent awake thinking of who I want to be or become. The home I had found in that darkness, feels like it wants to spit me out into the light, yet I don’t want to. Yet. I don’t like who I am. Yet. Because I feel like those around me are simply bad. People with nothing but selfish desire, unwilling to put away their own egos to satisfy someone that asks for nothing but be left to be happy. And that’s too much to ask of them. And now… I don’t know what I want anymore. Writing, living, loving, hating, thinking, responsibilities, are all now meaningless to me as they don’t want to see me for me. They just want to see what they want, a whatever fucked up worse version of myself that is on par with their shitty behavior and thought pattern. And I always imagined myself that being engaged, in love to be married would be some of my happiest of times. Yet they feel as empty and as meaningless as everything until now. Just as empty as the Christmas eves, new year day, birthday and whatever else we choose to celebrate.

I think some might call this depression. Yet I can’t help to argue against that point of view as I bask in this darkness falling. As I believe it to be a stranger induced coma. Where outside forces forced themselves on you to be what they want. For you to stick to whatever twisted version of normalcy they think is alright. A toxic environment they relish in. A place where your dreams, aspirations, passion and love dies at the hands of those without mercy. Those that loathe excellency and anything that has some mental fortitude to fight the fight they were too afraid to tackle. As they look upon others as a silent majority that nod yet do nothing. They say that the world isn’t against you, they’re just for themselves. Yet I once more beg to disagree. If the world, no matter how small yours is, is against your happiness, then it is the world against you. And just as with freedom, anything selfish that impedes the happiness of someone is beyond selfishness, it’s something worse. Something that we shouldn’t tolerate or suffer by. As is as toxic as the rest of the behaviors we start to disagree with. Yet here I am… In darkness basking once more unwilling to come out and face the world. At least here, I have some silence and peace for once…

Hope you liked this chapter of I Write Sins… Not Tragedies the short story. This chapter is quite a powerful and of course, personal one. As I drain my 2020 frustration all into this chapter of this little story about dreams. If you want to support and help keep these short stories free, you can always donate at: https://www.paypal.me/RaulFO

August 1, 2020
Raul FO
Short Stories, Blog

Tagged: I Write Sins… Not Tragedies, I write sins not tragedies, Nobody The Blog, Short Story, Raul F. O., Short Story Series, Short Stories, New short story, New Story, New stories, Short Story Blog, Short Story Blogger, Short Story Author, Short Stories Blog, Short Stories Blogger, Short Stories Author, Raul F. O. Short Story, Raul F. O. Short Stories, Author Short Story, Authors Short Stories, Story, Stories, Story Time, Series, I Write Sins Not Tragedies Series, I Write Sins Not Tragedies short story series, I Write Sins Not Tragedies part 31, I Write Sins Not Tragedies episode 31, Nobody, Nobodies Story, Nobodies Stories, Nobody Short Story, Author Raul F. O., Author, Authors, Blog, Blogging, Blogger, Blogs, New, New Short Story, New Release, New Short Stories, literal story, literature, 2020 Short Story, 2020 Short Stories, Free Short Story, Free Short Stories, best short story, best short stories, best new short stories, New Releases, Writers, Writing, My Writing, Creative Writing, Creative Short Stories, erotic short story, erotic story, romance, romance short story, romantic story, romance story, romance novel, erotic novel, The Who, The Who Band, Behind Blue Eyes song, Who, Doctor Who, Limp Bizkit, The Who Behind Blue Eyes, Limp Bizkit Behind Blue Eyes, best rock bands, best rock song, Literature stories

Newer Posts
Older Posts
Back To Top

Powered by Squarespace