the best short story

[ashkanOo]

hi my friend
plz write the best short story that u read....

[ashkanOo]

A woman and a man are involved in a car accident...

Both of their cars are totally demolished but amazingly neither of them are hurt.

After they crawl out of their cars, the woman says, "So you're a man, that's interesting. I'm a woman. Wow, just look at our cars! There's nothing left, but fortunately we are unhurt...

This must be a sign from God that we should meet and be friends and live together in peace for the rest of our days."

Flattered, the man replied, "Oh yes, I agree with you completely!"

This must be a sign from God!" The woman continued, "And look at this, here's another miracle. My car is completely demolished but this bottle of wine didn't break...

Surely God wants us to drink this wine and celebrate our good fortune."

Then she hands the bottle to the man. The man nods his head in agreement, opens it and drinks half the bottle and then hands it back to the woman. The woman takes the bottle, immediately puts the cap back on, and hands it back to the man.

The man asks, "Aren't you having any?"

The woman replies, "No. I think I'll just wait for the police..."

[joliya]

The Skulls
by Christine Valentine

The horse approaches through the drifting haze.
As she waits, her arms lift high the skull,
An offering for the rite of death in season.
Her heart all heavy, grave with abject sorrow
She yearns for poison and to disappear
Into the graveyard out beyond the willows.

Riderless, the horse comes from the willows
Its master gone, just like the wandering haze,
His body on the pyre all disappeared,
Nothing left of him, except the skull.
Horse and maiden nuzzle, each in sorrow,
Only death waits now, an open season.

Maiden, horse and skull ride for a season
Easing pain by chewing bark from willows.
A little food is given for their sorrow,
From villagers emerging from the haze,
But they’re reviled by smell of death and skull,
Their good deeds soon to disappear.

Mist of autumn’s gradual disappearance
Replaced by frost, a hoary winter season,
Cold reaches in and touches bones, while skull
Tied to the master’s horse is brushed by willows,
Each brush eroding bone dust, just like haze,
And haze condenses tears on face of sorrow.

Into a cave the maiden takes her sorrow
Resolved at last by death to disappear
Talks to the horse through fire’s smoky haze.
“I cannot linger here another season
I‘ll fashion a spear for death from some old willow
And kiss the face of death in Yorik’s skull.”

She sharpens spear point, closely watched by skull,
Each shaving of the wood draws down her sorrow,
Weeping tears of grief she pares the willow
Till grief replaced by courage, disappears.
She plunges spear deep in her chest, no season
Of grief is left, not even clouds of haze.

Now two skulls lie among the hazy rocks.
There is no more a season for their sorrow,
Disappeared the spear point sprouts new willow.
Its a story I have now

[خواهر نیوتون]

Two old gentlemen lived in a quiet street in Paris. They were friends and neighbours, and they often went for walks together in the streets when the weather was fine

Last Saturday they went for a walk at the side of the river. The sun shone, the weather was warm, there were a lot of flowers everywhere, and there were boats on the water

The two men walked happily for half an hour, and then one of them said to the other, 'That's a very beautiful girl

'Where can you see a beautiful girl?' said the other. 'I can't see one anywhere. I can see two young men. They are walking towards us

The girl's walking behind us,' said the first man quietly

'But how can you see her then?' asked his friend

The first man smiled and said, 'I can't see her, but I can see the young men's eyes

[user16220]

Peter was eight and a half years old, and he went to a school near his house. He always went there and came home on foot, and he usually got back on time, but last Friday he came home from school late. His mother was in the kitchen, and she saw him and said to him, "Why are you late today, Peter
"My teacher was angry and sent me to the headmaster after our lessons," Peter answered
?""To the headmaster?" his mother said. "Why did she send you to him
"Because she asked a question in the class; Peter said, "and none of the children gave her the answer except me."
His mother was angry. "But why did the teacher send you to the headmaster then? Why didn"t she send all the other stupid children?" she asked Peter
."Because her question was, "Who put glue on my chair?" Peter said

FROM:http://kershad.parsiblog.com

[ALIREZA-01]

THIS IS A JOKE NOT STORY One day a little girl noticed that her mother had several white hairs sticking out from the rest of her dark hair.
The girl looked at her mother and asked” mom, why are some of your hairs white?”
Her mother replied,” well, every time that you do something that worried me, one of my hairs turn white”.
The little girl thought about this for a while, and then said,” mom how come all of grandma’s hairs are white? “

[ALIREZA-01]

FIRST OF ALL ISHOULD SAY THIS STORY IS REAL AND I DIDNT KNOW BEFORE
[/leftWaiting as way of life

Mehran naseri waits patiently on a bench in Charls de Gaulle airport. Suitcases stacked neatly beside him. If his clothing looks rumpled, and his suitcases a bit frayed, it’s hardly surprising after all; naseri has been waiting for a flight to London for ever 24 years. What began as a travel nightmare on august26 1988, has become away of life. Meet the man who lives in a Charles de Gaulle’s terminal one.
According to his own claim, naseri’s odyssey began when he was arrested by savak, the EX-Iranian organization of security and information. For his anti shah political views. In 1977 he was expelled from his home country of Iran. Forced to abandon his family, naseri headed to Europe, where he bounced from country to country until finally, in1981, he obtained refugee statues from the United Nations. Grated the right to live in any European country, naseri boarded a flight to Great Britain, where he has relatives. On stopover in Paris, however, his bag containing his identity papers was stolen. Without this documents British immigration official refuse to allow naseri into Great Britain, and he was returned to France. Back at the Paris’s Charles de Gaulle airport, naseri found himself in the ultimate, travel nightmare. Without identity documents, he could neither inter France nor travel to another nation. He had become a man without the country.

[ashkanOo]

Mr Robinson never went to a dentist, because he was afraid:'

but then his teeth began hurting a lot, and he went to a dentist. The dentist did a lot of work in his mouth for a long time. On the last day Mr Robinson said to him, 'How much is all this work going to cost?' The dentist said, 'Twenty-five pounds,' but he did not ask him for the money.

After a month Mr Robinson phoned the dentist and said, 'You haven't asked me for any money for your work last month.'

'Oh,' the dentist answered, 'I never ask a gentleman for money.'

'Then how do you live?' Mr Robinson asked.

'Most gentlemen pay me quickly,' the dentist said, 'but some don't. I wait for my money for two months, and then I say, "That man isn't a gentleman," and then I ask him for my money.

[uta]

This is the best story I ever read, which is relatively short

The Making Of A Mother
By the time the Lord made mothers, He was into the sixth day working overtime. An Angel appeared and said "Why are you spending so much time on this one?"

And the Lord answered and said, "Have you read the spec sheet on her? She has to be completely washable, but not elastic; have 200 movable parts, all replaceable; run on black coffee and leftovers; have a lap that can hold three children at one time and that disappears when she stands up; have a kiss that can cure anything from a scraped knee to a broken heart; and have six pairs of hands."

The Angel was astounded at the requirements for this one. "Six pairs of hands! No way!" said the Angel.

The Lord replied, "Oh, it's not the hands that are the problem. It's the three pairs of eyes that mothers must have!"

"And that's on the standard model?" the Angel asked.

The Lord nodded in agreement, "Yep, one pair of eyes are to see through the closed door as she asks her children what they are doing even though she already knows. Another pair in the back of her head are to see what she needs to know even though no one thinks she can. And the third pair are here in the front of her head. They are for looking at an errant child and saying that she understands and loves him or her without even saying a single word."

The Angel tried to stop the Lord "This is too much work for one day. Wait until tomorrow to finish."

"But I can't!" The Lord protested, "I am so close to finishing this creation that is so close to my own heart. She already heals herself when she is sick AND can feed a family of six on a pound of hamburger and can get a nine year old to stand in the shower."

The Angel moved closer and touched the woman, "But you have made her so soft, Lord."

"She is soft," the Lord agreed, "but I have also made her tough. You have no idea what she can endure or accomplish."

"Will she be able to think?" asked the Angel.

The Lord replied, "Not only will she be able to think, she will be able to reason, and negotiate."

The Angel then noticed something and reached out and touched the woman's cheek. "Oops, it looks like You have a leak with this model. I told You that You were trying to put too much into this one."

"That's not a leak." the Lord objected. "That's a tear!"

"What's the tear for?" the Angel asked.

The Lord said, "The tear is her way of expressing her joy, her sorrow, her disappointment, her pain, her loneliness, her grief, and her pride."

The Angel was impressed. "You are a genius, Lord. You thought of everything for this one. You even created the tear!"

The Lord looked at the Angel and smiled and said, "I'm afraid you are wrong again. I created the woman, but she created the tear!"

[karma]

woah... too many hell of short stories at one place! but u can find more if you go ahead and search it on google! whats the point of this topic! occupying ourselves?