My Short Story

From Darkness Into Light

By: William Lewis

Core: 1

I made sure my alarm woke me up at 5:00. During this time of day, the streets of Paris were empty, the morning sky was awash with peach, like fire crackling in the atmosphere and the ocean blue, blue as a gleaming sapphire, with clouds, perfectly white clouds as pure as the moon, like dandelions dancing in the sky. But I had to get to work. I made posters again with his address and the right time, but this time with better material. I put them up at around 6:00, and now I realized that I just had to wait. As he left his house for the coffee, I noticed he was crying, he really needed help. I sure hoped this would work.

“Ah finally, that took forever,” I exclaimed as he came biking back. I had been sitting there for over 7 hours. I know, pretty unbelievable. But I was dite-diter-determined to make this man’s life better. When he got home, he luckily didn’t notice the signs. Then, the most magical thing happened. A woman actually walked up to his address. I swear I could have jumped to another planet. He greeted her and let her in. They began talking. I noticed she pointed to the signs and I got nervous, but he comforted her and they seemed to get along pretty well. Suddenly, I got the jitters, I had never felt this way before. It felt amazing doing something gentille-kind for someone. I just hoped it would last for a while.

Now, to help someone else. I had always remembered about the family living on the streets. I had just found this out recently because I never really go outside. But one day, I had decided to take a walk, and I saw a family of five and their dog, wrapped in dirty, cheap blankets, begging for some euros. Of course, I gave them some, I mean what monster wouldn’t? But here, I vouched to make sure that these people lived a life lived up to the fullest, a life where every morning as they wake up, they are excited for the new day.

But once again, it was time to get to work. All day and all night for a very long time, I worked on making a mini house for them to sleep in. Although it took me forever, I had finished within a couple weeks and only a gazillion euros owed to the hardware store. Zeut!

“Guillaume!!” Uh-oh, here comes ma mere.

“A quoi étiez-vous en train de penser!” Or “What were you thinking!”

“Je suis désolé ma mère.” I only wanted to help, but to her, I guess it didn’t matter. It was as if all the light built inside my forest, darkened like a whirling storm, engulfing my inner light.

Maybe I should introduce myself...

Bonjour tout le monde, or as the English would say without my accent, “Cheerio, mates”, non excuse moi, what I meant to say was (in Southern Accent) “Well, hello Y'all.” Pardon moi, my English is not the greatest. Oh, excuse my manners, je m’appelle Guillaume, enchanté. What I mean by this, is that it is good to meet you. J’ai seize ans. Oh sorry, I am still getting used to this English thing. I’m 16 years old. It is nice to have some comp-compa-compaannyy once in a while. Désolé. Je suis français. I have just recently learned the English dictionary, it is very complicated. De toute façon, sorry, what I mean is anyways, I am here to give you my story of when I was just a little child, struggling under abusive parents, with a difficile disease called autism, but focusing my life on helping others instead of being weakened by the circum-circ-circumstances.

As a child, I always had wondered many odd things. For instance, I remember when I had asked my dad,

“D'où viennent les bébés?” Or in other words, “Where do babies come from?”

“Non, non, non, pas aujourd'hui.” Or “Not today,” mon père said.

“Je ne comprends pas!” I did not understand, and I really wanted to know.

“PAS AUJOURD'HUI!!”

“Ahhh!” And it was at this moment, when my dad ran away from me and ma mére, forever. I had jumped on his back and began pounding him on the neck, like a raged monkey who didn’t get his banana’s. I didn’t know what came over me.

After he had ripped me off from his back, he yelled,

“JE TE DETESTE!” And that was it. He was gone forever.

I remember that afterward, as ma mére was screaming at me, I could not pay attention. In fact, I remember that I was thinking about how I didn’t care that he left, he was always a meanie. He was always putting something like a tube in his mouth and blowing out smoke. He would then take some bottle with brown liquid and chug it down until it was empty, like he was animal who crossed the desert, only to find a small puddle of water at the end. I would go up to him and ask,

“Mon pére? Qu'est-ce que tu fais?” What are you doing?

“Ahhh, zeut! Silencieux!” He would then take me by the shirt and spank me repeatedly, but I didn’t know what he was doing. I just knew it hurt like, like what do you call it in America, oh yes, it hurt like a bull’s horn to the butt.

“Mon pére! S’arrêter!” This means stop. It hurt so bad. But this definitely was not the worst. Sometimes he would take me to a small room and lock me up overnight with the millions of spiders. I always had a fear of spiders.

“Papa, Papa! Laisse moi sortir!” I wanted to get out of that devilish deathroom immediately.

“Non! Je te deteste!” This is why I didn’t like him very much.

Anyways, as ma mére was yelling at me, I could not pay attention, it was as if she wasn’t there. That I was all alone. Confused by this, all I did was keep repeating the same words.

“S’arrêter! S’arrêter! S’arrêter! S’arrêter!” Or “stop” in America. I really didn’t know what was happening. Ma mére looked down at me curio-curi-cur-curiously, but for some reason, I couldn’t look at her back.

“Guillaume, suis moi.” She told me to follow her. I remember walking out of the house, very confused. Why wasn’t she mad? I expected her to yell at me as loud as a gun firing for target pract-practice. Sorry. Excuse moi. Instead, I remember walking down the street of our neighborhood to something called a doctor. I remember being in his office doing some weird tests and him using some doodads on me. I remember getting shots that hurt like a dagger in my arm.

“Ah, zeut!” I would say, every time that devilish tool stabbed my arm. Stupid shots. Although I do admit, some tests were very amusant. I recall the time he would put a cold metal circle on my chest that also conn-connected to his ears. I couldn’t help laughing because it was ticklish like a feather on my chest. After I was done, I remember my mom having a talk with him. She--she looked sad.

“Ma mére? Je suis désole.” I was sorry because I thought she was sad because of me. When she looked at me, my heart dropped. She was crying.

“Mamma, je suis désole.” I still thought she was sad because of me. She told me it wasn’t my fault, but when she told me the news, my heart froze. I had autism, and I was only seven. When we walked home, we were both silent.

Growing up, I never had friends. It was really hard to connect with other people in France. So instead of trying to make friends, which didn’t really work, I decided to change the world for the better. Ma mére thought I was crazy, but non, I would make the lives of many like a never-ending shooting star.

I started with this man, you know, the guy I mentioned in the beginning. I memorized his schedule, which I was very proud of since I have a very poor memory. He wakes up at 7:00 and bikes to un café pour le coffee. Afterward, he would bike to work until 4:00, bike home and read sad romantic novels. I always was confused on why. It was as if his own forest was darkening, that the once beautiful butterflies had broken their wings. But growing up, I recognized different senses. Eventually, I knew his. He missed someone, someone who he loved. So, one day I made the choice to put up some posters that said,

“Acting jobs, good pay, free snacks.” I knew he wouldn’t get back the one he loved, but I tried to start a new relationship. And guess what, it didn’t work the first time. In fact, it began raining and the storm ruined all my posters until they looked like wet goo on the ground.

“Je te l’ai dit.” Or “I told you so,” said my mother. I told her I wasn’t going to give up, in fact, I was going to make sure that this man found his new true love. And eventually, it worked, like I explained before in the beginning! Now I could look outside and see the wondrous smile on this once lonely man’s face, for he had found his new true love.

And what about that poor family on the streets, I also mentioned?

All I could think about were the vibrant faces of that family as I gave them a new home to sleep in, but not only that, a new life. In response to ma mere’s disagreement of this project, I snuck out at night, and just as usual, I found those people sleeping there in their ratty blankets. So I went to the garage and brought out my creation and set it right in front of them. I was so excited, I could fly to the moon.

The next morning I looked down, and sure enough, the poor family stared bright-eyed at the creation that I had made. The feeling was amazing. It was like a star had rid me from all of my downfalls and darkness ever conce-conceived from my struggles in life.

“Guillaume!” Uh-oh, here comes ma mére again. This pattern of helping people repeated for weeks, months, and even years. Anyways, this was my life story shared to you. My story of putting myself out there, even though I struggled with my autism. This story of my life was to give you a sense, a sense of the world at its worst, but to always look forward no matter the struggles behind you. And always remember, every adversity carries with it the seed of equal or greater benefit.

In my short story, I used many specific similes, metaphors and many other Lit. Devices to enhance my story, in hopes of giving the audience a sense of description and Imagery to allow a very thorough description in someone’s mind.

“I had jumped on his back and began pounding him on the neck, like a raged monkey who didn’t get his banana’s.” This is a simile because it compares the characters' behavior to a raged monkey with no banana’s using the word “like”. This enhances the story, by giving the audience or reader a sense or image of the situation that is very detailed of the bad behavior.

“After he had ripped me off from his back, he yelled, “JE TE DETESTE!”.” This is a metaphor because he didn’t literally rip me off his back, I am just using a metaphor to enhance the intense moment using the word ripped which isn’t literal. It is just a saying to give effect to the reader.

“Sometimes he would take me to a small room and lock me up overnight with the millions of spiders. I always had a fear of spiders.” This is a hyperbole because it is an exaggeration of a specific detail. In this case, it is the exaggeration of a number of spiders. It enhances the story because it gives us a sense of pity for the young boy due to a lot of spiders.

“And always remember, every adversity carries with it the seed of equal or greater benefit.” This is an idiom because it is a saying using words that aren’t literal but displays a message or moral in a specific way. It enhances the story because it gives a sense of morality when wrapping up the story, in hopes of displaying a message.