very short short stories by me about me

by your sunshine


“do you want to race?” the hare asks the tortoise one day.

“not really,” the tortoise replies calmly.

“yeah, me neither.” the hare confesses.

“you could walk beside me if you want,” the tortoise suggests with a smile.

“that’ll be nice,” the hare smiles back.


“aren’t you lonely?” the shadow asks the little girl in the empty hallway.

“no,” the little girl says, and her voice echoes across the length of the corridor.

“but you’re all alone,” the shadow says dumbly.

“not true,” the girl answers, shaking the head. “i have you, and my echo too. that’s quite some company.”

“but we’re both just…made up of you!”

the girl smiles warmly. “exactly.”


“you’re here a lot lately,” the eyes say to the tears.

“is that a problem?” the tears question.

“yeah,” the eyes snort. “you’re in the way of my line of vision.”

“i see more than you do,” the tears tell the eyes calmly. “i’ve always seen more than you.”

“what are you talking about,” the eyes deadpan, rolling itself in annoyance. “my job is literally to see.”

“before i became tears, i was morning dew. and rain. and a part of the sky, and a part of the ocean.” the tears explain. “i’ve seen a lot before you even could see, and i know that my presence is very much needed in the grand scheme of things. for your owner, and for the universe.” the tears pause for a second, clings onto the underside of the chin as it shimmers with brightness. “and for you, too. because of me, you’ll be able to see more clearly now, right?”

the eyes blink, and indeed the tears were right.

and before the tears let go, it gives a little wave, and it tells the eyes. “the next time you see me, i’ll be in the ink of a bestselling novel. good luck!”



the wind: i’m sorry i’m so distant i’m just really uncomfortable with physical touch and also i need some space too; are words of encouragement okay?

the sun: i’m sorry i’m too much; i’ll try my best to tone it down.

people: we don’t care! you gotta fit into the standards of society!



“she’s probably forgotten all about you,” the wall says to the lost thing that is tucked in a corner, collecting dust.

“no, she’s still looking, i’m sure.” the lost thing replies reassuringly.

“she’s stopped trying,” the wall says, a little more forcefully.

“well then,” the lost thing says with a nonchalent shrug. “now i can look forward to her look of happiness when she does find me someday.”


“what are you supposed to be?” the paper asks the dot, squinting at it sceptically.

“for now, i’m a dot.” the dot says.

“that’s boring,” the paper says. “maybe you’re not even meant to be here.”

“maybe,” the dot replies. “or maybe i’m meant to be something more! i could be anything if i took off from here! isn’t that simply exciting?”


“yo,” the face says to the zit. “she hates you.”

“what are you talking about?” the zit says. “i’ve made her life so much more colourful!”


“hello, i’m new.” the pencil says to the contents in a stationary box.

“hello,” everyone greets back happily.

“wait, there’s no correction tape in here?” the pencil says, shocked. “and no ruler?”

“nope,” everyone replies. “our owner is a big fan of having her mistakes as reminders and embracing crooked lines in her life.”


“this is my dog,” the girl tells the boy as she points to her dog.

“and this is my cat.” the girl continues as she points to her cat.

“so which one do you love more?” the boy asks.

“what do you mean?’

“are you a dog-person or a cat-person?”

“pfft,” the girl laughs. “i’m simply a better and happier person.”

“huh,” the boy breathes, taking in her words. “so what’s their names?”

“the dog’s Motivation, and the cat’s called Chill. they balance me out just right, and i love them equally.”


“oh my god!” the girl gasps. “you’re the boy of my dreams!”

“oh my god, aww! that’s the sweetest -”

“yeah! you’re not real! thank god!”




girl: omg the smell of new books!

girl: omg the smell of old books!

boy: wtf girls are so confusing?!

girl: um, im hinting that u stink and i only need books in my life???? omg boys are so dumb its unreal.

boy poofs for the second time.

ps. i died writing number 10.

pps. i conjured all 10 stories during my most recent trip to the showers. go figure!

ppps. very politically and grammatically incorrect which are both true reflections of me.