Dilemas of the Moral Nature

Question

Write a story where the subject of morals and/or morality is a key theme.

I'll pick best response in two weeks on December 10th, 2011. If there is only one or two responses, and others have shown interest in posting responses, I'll extend the deadline a week.

Word limit is 500 words!

Comments

Excellent challenge. I'll have to think about this one for a while. ;)

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This was a very hard decision for me to make!

Answer 1

Everything about me is slumped: my shoulders, my head, my clothes, my heart.  I haven't been able to pull myself together since the accident. Ironically, the poison that brought me to this point, is the same one that is carrying me through.  I don't go far, these days, without knowing where my next drink is coming from.

As I approach the church, I can hear the choir singing a solemn hymn.  It sounds like the entire congregation is sharing a single voice.  I stop for a moment to pray.  I'd like to say I am praying for the two lives I took,  but the truth is, I am praying for myself.  I am preparing to walk through the doors into a church full of people that are mourning the deaths of a mother and child, and I suspect they will be less than thrilled to see me.  But, I feel I must do this, although the reason why is not yet clear.  Ultimately, I would like forgiveness, but do not expect it or deserve it.

  I've heard they had been on their way to a birthday party.  I had been on my way to my mother's to raid her loose change jar.  Seems so trivial now, but it was all I could think of at the time.  Those stupid coins that could provide me with a few good drinks.  I remember the girl's dress had been pink and yellow.

Each step up the stairs feels like a mile, each second, a lifetime.  I lift my head and steel my face.  If I don't do this now, I am sure my resolve will fade. I reach the tall oak doors, and swing them open.  One deep breath..and I step into the sanctuary.

Comments

Wow. I can't express how much I like this in any other way. Just wow. This is amazing. So well written and it really touches me for some reason. Very, very good.

Welcome to ThinkWrite, bean_tay. I definitely look forward to reading more of your work.

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Thank you so much!  It's been a long time since I've written for fun, so it's nice to get a good response. =)

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Oh, bean_tay! This is so moving! I can feel the pain of the narrator. Almost brought me to tears. Beautiful. Welcome to ThinkWrite!

Answer 2

Not an original tale but one I have long enjoyed!

It had been a long hard winter and all the creatures of the snowy countryside were suffering. The last of the berries had been eaten and what other food remained was frozen. A small bird, close to death, flew into a small opening in a farmyard barn. Exhausted and freezing he collapsed on the floor, where some of the farm yard animals were. They looked on for a while not sure what to do. A hen brought a few grains of corn but the bird was so cold it could not eat them. Finally a cow had an idea and very carefully turned round and slowly deposited a warm wet cow pat on the body of the half dead bird. This warmed the tiny creature and before long he raised his head and begun to sing. The farm cat heard the sound and crept into the barn, pounced on the bird, dragged it clear of the cow pat and without ceremony, ate the bird.

There are several moral lessons to be learned. Firstly, not everyone who drops you in the sh@t is bad. Secondly, not everyone who helps you out of the sh@t is good. And the last and most important moral lesson; if you are up to your neck in sh@t but are warm and happy, don’t sing about it!

 

Comments

hahahahahaha! excellent. :P

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It is a good one, and one I've heard before. The lessons are very good ones.

Answer 3

// I'm not sure if this is what you were thinking of TheRunawayHeart, but this is what I came up with. I think it has to do with morality.

// CONTENT WARNING: mature themes.

Rays of sun reflect off the blanket of snow covering the field, sending a blinding glare into my eyes. I stand my ground. Shivers creep up my spine every now and then. I am unsure whether they are from fear or the cold.

Darren is standing to one side of me, his arm raised. He is ready.

On the other side, Cameron is backed up by a gang of other guys, with his second in command, Cale, to his right. To say that they look menacing would be an understatement. It is difficult to explain the pain they have put Darren through in the past few months. Bullying is not strong enough a word.

They all seem to be in shock but they don’t move either. Their arms don’t need to be raised; their numbers defend them better than Darren’s weapon will defend him if a fight breaks out.

Standing between them, I feel like a martyr. Accepting the possibility of death and hoping to be an example to others after me.

“Darren, put it down,” I tell him.

He doesn’t move, doesn’t speak. His mouth remains in its emotionless straight line posture. He chances a sad glance at me before returning his stare to the other boys.

“This isn’t the way to handle this,” I say.

“Most kids kill themselves,” Darren’s voice is sharper than a knife, “Maybe that’s the way to handle this?” he says it like it’s a question I should have the answer to.

The tension in the air is palpable when Darren starts to turn his hand and aim at himself. Without thinking, I take a running jump at him, tackling him to the white, wet ground. I hear the sound and then I realize what has happened. Darren is on the ground shaking and I lay on top of him.

A few meters away, Cameron is also down. His friends surround him, stunned from the shock of what just occurred. I hear the mumbled voice of Cale calling an ambulance. The others apparently don’t have the presence of mind to do that.