Turning Your Favorite Song Into a Short Story

Use the words from your favorite song (or the song that is stuck in your head), mix them up and write a short short story using every word.

Post your response (500 words or less) in the comments below.

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9 thoughts on “Turning Your Favorite Song Into a Short Story

  1. Not A Hipster

    My Beloved-
    It might not be the right time for our love. I might not be the right one for you. But there’s something about us I want to say because there’s something between us anyway. There’s something about us I’ve got to do, some kind of secret I will share with you-
    I need you, I want you, I’ll miss you and I love you more than anything in my life. You are my one and only.
    -Your Lover

    (Something About Us, Daft Punk)

  2. Not A Hipster

    My Beloved-
    It might not be the right time for our love. I might not be the right one for you. But there’s something about us I want to say because there’s something between us anyway. There’s something about us I’ve got to do, some kind of secret I will share with you-
    I need you, I want you, I’ll miss you and I love you more than anything in my life. You are my one and only.
    -Your Lover

  3. iloveBOTDF

    (Rise and Shine by Blood On The Dance Floor)
    This rain won’t go away. The cloud’s on my head every single day while this pain goes right inside. It keeps breaking me down until I just cry.

    The little bully wants to play, so he hits me every single day. This pain still goes right inside. I guess I’ll just have to let it slide. It drains all of my life. Why can’t I just stop the strife? This rain still won’t go away, and the cloud’s on my head every single day.

    Please beat on another kid. Just not on me. The rain won’t go away, with the cloud on my head every single day. These games that you play are done. Eventually I’ll get up on my feet and say, “No, no, not this time. This time, I’m taking back what is mine.”

    Cause with this faith, I will be able to transform the jangling discords of this nation into a beautiful symphony of a brotherhood. With faith, you and I will be able to work together, to pray together, to struggle together, to go to jail together, to stand up for freedom forever. I know that I will be able to sing with a new meaning.

    So stand up, cause I’m taking what’s mine. Your insecurities are what you’re trying to hide. I don’t care for the things that you say, because I know that you’re just one step away from breaking down.

    Pick yourself up off of the ground. I know that you are better than this. So just open your eyes, because now is the time to rise up, because with darkness we’ll still shine. So idolize and despise wrong or right. Trust me, we can make it through to the other side.

  4. TheLittleHipster63

    (Fall for you-secondhand serinaid)

    She tossed and turned restlessly in her black silk sheets. They tangled themselves around her pale, slender legs as the nightmares of her past tore through her dreams.
    Louis yearned to comfort her as he had in their childhood days. She didn’t look any different from how he remembered, but then again just like him, she didn’t age past a certain age.
    She still had the looks of a 17 year old when in reality she should be well into her 100’s. her blood red hair was much shorter than he remembered though, once down past her knees now only came to just below her bust.
    She stirred a bit more but to his surprise she peaked opened her emerald green eyes. He smiled at the memory of the first time he met her. The first thing he noticed was her eyes.

  5. Lyoko2516

    (Song: Europe’s On the Loose)
    Running out on the streets, he lived from day to day in a tedious lifestyle. He was always looking for something to do. Something he wanted to do, but was often discouraged. He didn’t know what it was that he wanted to do, but something told him, He needs to get away.

    As a child, he kept thinking that the he was him. Hoping that maybe one day he could be someone, he tried to figure out what the voice meant. Where was the voice going to take him? Was it going to beat praying that maybe one day he could be number one?

    In his world of make-believe, he always tended to be on the loose. So young… at the age of seventeen he had the youth of a nation. So tough… he kept a tough front, but on the inside, he had a soft side. So wild…his shoulder-length hair was a fireball of a mess and he always wore oversized clothing over his size-medium interior.

    Whenever the feeling came over him, he always whispered to himself, “On the loose again.”

    At night he kept dreaming, dreaming about all the things he’d like to do. He had always wanted to fly an airplane, but he had a fear of flying. He went to see all types of therapists, but none could find a cure for his fear. He kept trying to tell his girl, “I’m trying, trying so hard to make it all up to you.”

    She smiled as she almost-seductively whispered, “In his world of make-believe, he always tends to be on the loose…”

    “So young…” he smiled a small smile.

    “So tough, yet having a soft side…”

    “So wild,” his wild hair seemed to spark with joy. “On the loose again.”

    One day he was standing in front of a platform in his English class. The teacher smiled as she said, “He’s got something to say.”

    “You better not stand in his way,” the audience chorused.

    After school, he smiled to his girl, “In his world of make-believe, he always tends to be…”

    “On the loose,” she yawned sleepily, happy that he was with her.

    “So young…”

    “So tough…”

    “So wild…” He smiled as she fell asleep in his arms. “On the loose, again.”

    He repeated their mantras as he fell asleep a few minutes later…

  6. Juliet591

    (song: Mean by Taylor Swift)

    I was sitting behind my desk doing my homework for tonight since I have free time and I have to work tonight, when, all of a sudden, my glasses are yanked from my head, causing me to go blind. I looked around to see who took my glasses and next thing I know, I’m on the ground. I hear one hyena-like laugh and that’s all it takes for me to know who took my glasses and pushed me on the ground, Amber.

    Amber is on the cheerleading squad, is captain of the cheerleading squad, is the girlfriend of the star quarterback, has the perfect figure, is popular beyond belief, and has the perfect life. It sounds so stereotypical and unreal, but that’s the thing. I wish it weren’t real, though. Me on the other hand, I’m the exact opposite of Amber. I’m student body president, I’ve never had a boyfriend (let alone a kiss), I have an average figure, I’m the biggest nerd in the school, and I have the worst life ever.

    Once I got my glasses back, it was the end of class, so I just went towards my locker to get my stuff and head home. I live in a small town called River Valley, Tennessee. Everyone knows everyone here in good old River Valley. I like it here because since you know everyone, they know you, so if you want a job then it’ll be pretty easy to get it if your friends with them. That’s how I got my job at the diner. The owner, Sally, she and I are so close that she could be classified as family, in fact, I secretly wish she was my mother instead of Holly. Holly is the person who adopted me when I was ten, I’m now sixteen and she still thinks I’m ten, either that, or she just doesn’t like to leave me alone in her house.

    When I arrived home, I put my stuff away for school tomorrow and changed into my job attire. On my way to the diner, I saw a homeless man on the streets in a box. I pulled out a twenty dollar bill that was suppose to be for my new book that I was going to get on the way home, but he needed it way more than I did. He thanked me kindly and said that he wished there was more people like me. I smiled, said my thanks, and went on my way. I arrived at work just a minute to spare. Sally came up to me and said for me to take Jamie’s side of the diner today and that Ethan will take my side for his training. I was ok with it, all the costumers were really nice and they al gave me good tips. That was, until I saw who I had to serve next.

    “Hi, what can I get you tonight?” I said to the costumer, while looking at my notepad with my pencil in my hand.

    “Hi Fiona”, a girl voice said, sinisterly, might I add.

    “Hi Amber.”

    “Aw, Fiona needs a job. Why? Why does Fiona need a job?” she asked mockingly. “Why does poor little Fiona need a job? Oh, that’s right. Because you’re “mom” doesn’t even let you use her money. She doesn’t trust you, she doesn’t like you.”

    It’s true. Holly doesn’t like me, but I don’t care because I don’t like her either. Also, so what if I need a job, I need to save up for college.

    “Your mom doesn’t even like you. She gave you up. She gave you up, left, and then killed herself because of you. You killed a person. You killed a person, Fiona.” Amber said.

    “No! She didn’t! She didn’t kill herself! You don’t even know what happened! Your just saying stuff!” I yelled.

    She has no right to say those things about my birth mother! She doesn’t even know what happened!

    “Oh yeah? Then what did happen?” Amber said teasingly with a smile on her face.

    “She died in a car crash. We were on our way to Walmart, when a car came flying out of nowhere and crashed right into us. They were drunken teenagers and they died almost instantly. My mother died only a couple minutes after we got to the hospital. The doctors said that I was a living miracle. I was only eight. I didn’t kill my mother. Those stupid, idiotic, drunken teenagers did. They paid the price for it too. I’m not saying that I’m happy they died. I wished they have lived and see what they have done.” By the time that I was finished Amber and I were both crying, and the people around us that probably heard the conversation either had a smile on their faces for me being brave enough to tell Amber off, or they were crying as well.

    “Fiona, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have said that, especially since it wasn’t even the truth. I feel so bad. I’m sorry.”

    I just kept quiet and stared at her, staring at me. I was too mad to say anything. She did apologize and I know that she doesn’t apologize often. I know she won’t be picking on me anymore. I am overjoyed that she won’t pick on me anymore. With a blank face, I ask her one thing:

    “What can I get for you?”

  7. egg

    (Song: Sit Down by James)

    The white-water rushes at the craft and my fellow adventurers lurch and bump within the tiny hull. I am momentarily airborne, but am instantly swung back down again by strong fingers around my arm. “Oh sit down,” he shouts. He is so flippant that I fear he might be one of those who find they’re touched by madness. I glare at him in hate and awe.

    The river becomes flat and still, and he tells us stories. I am now relieved to hear that few people have died on this particular stretch of river, but he is quiet when a small, dark woman asks about the rapids ahead. The raft is filled with hush. It is like when you feel all alone in the presence of worldly riches. For me, this feeling has been found in the strangest places; atop Mt Sinai; in the bustling old city of Jerusalem; and now, in a raft full of strangers. The woman is beautiful to me, and I stare at her exquisite features. The pang inside me feels a lot like love. But perhaps it is just the echo of secrets I can’t keep, secrets that insist on being free inside of the day.

    I hear the rumble in the distance like a song from the darkest hour, and I find it’s hard to carry on. “Oh sit down.” He whispers kindly in my ear and I am suddenly filled with courage. I believe this wave will bear my weight. I hope it will. And then the river, with its extremes of sweet and sour, roars and lashes like an angry tiger, and we swing from high to deep as we’re drawn by the under tow.

    Another gush of icy foam slams at us and I am ill-prepared. “Oh sit down,” he yells again, “here, sit down next to me.” I tumble to his side and find it’s worse than it was before. I am in tears and I start to pray. In my panic, the shock realization that my life is out of control, hits me with more force than even the most fearsome wave. The wisdom that I seek is not to be found in this treacherous canyon. Nor in the far out places where I once foolishly believed that I could live with being poor. “Oh sit down,” he screams with a new urgency. “Sit down.”

    But it is too late. A deafening roar fills my ears as the cold, ferocious torrent engulfs me. Was that the voice of God urging me to sit? I hope that God exists. Down, down, down the current guides me, and I let it flow. Echoes of sympathy fill my heart from those who might feel a breath of sadness for their loss. But as I sing myself to sleep, I know that this is the path meant for those of us who find themselves ridiculous, and for the first time in my life, I am without fear.

  8. TwoTwistedWorlds

    Ashes fell all around the scar ridden battle field, swirling like a blizzard of gray.
    Never did he think he would have made it this far, into this now dead zone where the enemy camp had been.
    His whole body hurt, dark tan uniform torn and burn, like the tanned skin beneth it.
    Tears brimmed eyes of the darkest green that stared up at the hot ash that fell from the blurry nova sky.
    Was, HAD, it been worth it.
    What had it been for.
    What was it?
    He did not even know anymore. All he knew was that it had been all in vain.
    And he was too far gone to care. Too far gone.
    He wated to burn the pages of orders and documents that lay in his pack not too far away.
    But it seemed the after effects of the bomb was taking care of it.
    He was in pain, his comrades were in pain.
    He wanted all the pain to be taken away. All the rage he felt.
    So with what little light he had left in his broken body, he reached for his side arm, and pressed it to his head. His life was then swallowe raw, body going cold with the case he thought he had fought for.
    Soon he was dreaming of red and of all these yesterdays…

    (Song: Of all these yesterdays by Trivium)

  9. apjohn

    “Small Blue Thing” Song by Suzanne Vega

    Today I am
    A small blue thing
    Like a marble
    Or an eye

    With my knees against my mouth
    I am perfectly round
    I am watching you

    I am cold against your skin
    You are perfectly reflected
    I am lost inside your pocket
    I am lost against
    Your fingers

    I am falling down the stairs
    I am skipping on the sidewalk
    I am thrown against the sky

    I am raining down in pieces
    I am scattering like light
    Scattering like light
    Scattering like light

    Today I am
    A small blue thing
    Made of china
    Made of glass

    I am cool and smooth and curious
    I never blink
    I am turning in your hand
    Turning in your hand
    Small blue thing

    Alexanna Padilla Johnson – Song into Story

    Today I am a small blue thing, walking along the beach in this Greek village, happy to be away from the chaos of a city, the cacophony of my former life.

    There was a moment I decided to make this journey. I was in Central Park resting in the grass after an early morning jog. I hadn’t run in a while, had been too busy with the merger. And I was enjoying the sweat, the shaky muscles; the rush of exertion, then rest. Sitting in the grass with my knees against my mouth, feeling my breath slow, I was perfectly round, watching other runners go by. I noticed their running attire. They had all dressed to be out here. Not a one in their house shorts and shirts. This is the expensive stuff. “I am watching you, “ I thought, “and you can’t let up, even for this moment, even this early in the morning. I am you.” Then, “Enough is enough.”

    I imagined myself as my running clothes, their running clothes, against our skin, listening to the whispers of worried thoughts, fears about making that next critical decision, worry that we’d never rest or find time to think about the important things.

    “I am cold against your skin,” I thought, imagining myself as this fabric, suffused in our damp exertion, “you and your concerns are perfectly reflected. I am lost inside your pocket. When you buy your coffee at Starbucks, I am lost against your fingers.”

    When I removed myself, gazed down on myself and them, I could finally see. And it was terrifying. Things weren’t as I had understood them. But what were they now? It was the first time I had the sensation, “Today I am a small blue thing, like I’m made of china or made of glass,” transparent and a little fragile, things I’d never allowed myself to be. Before, I’d sensed myself as fighting and solid, immovable. My words and my demeanor were pointed, opaque. How quickly I’d perceived myself moving through the chaos, puffing proudly with each row I burrowed in the field.

    But that day in Central Park I was still, like a marble or an eye. Defenses dropped, began to turn, morphed into a stopping, a sensing, and finally a recognition. I was suddenly cool, and smooth, and curious, challenging myself with, “I never blink. Whatever you are that is making me recognize, I am turning in your hand, turning in your hand. I’m willing to be a small blue thing.”

    Delighted, I sensed an absence of physical weight,” I am falling down the stairs, I am skipping on the sidewalk” And finally, “I am thrown against the sky,” as I knew I had to move myself to a different setting, a different life entirely.

    “What now? “ as I breathe in the Mediterranean from this beach, this new home. I feel I am raining down in pieces, I am scattering like light, scattering like light, scattering like light.


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