Aidan Schultz
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Stories (8)
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What are we doing?
There has been a thought that has been nagging me for a long time now. Why is there so much wrong with our world? Well to cut to the point, we are what is wrong with the world. I am not expecting this essay to receive any likes, nor am I really expecting for it to be published but it needs to be said. We have all been fed this idea that someone in the world must be hated. No one has said it bluntly like that obviously, because of course no one would want to agree with that. It is, however, very true. Everyone feels that they must hate someone.
By Aidan Schultz4 years ago in FYI
The Vice
Tristan felt his body loosen. He could see clearly finally. Tristan tried to stand with all his might. He knew he had to break it free from the binding that held him there for so long. He could finally feel the fresh air again. As Tristan realized his newly found freedom, he looked around. The grass under him was soft and lush, the sky above him light and blue. The field Tristan found himself in was full of lovely flowers.
By Aidan Schultz4 years ago in Fiction
Why I Write
I will be short and to the point. My creative passion is writing. Growing up I went to a classical school. This meant that I read a lot of old literature such as Dantes Divine Comedy, Plutarchs Lives, and so on. Eventually, I went on to read other books such as How to Win Friends and Influence People, The Power of Letting go, The Enneagram, and The Art of Thinking Clearly. I loved the way these books addressed the problems within society. Many times I would try to talk to my peers about these books. I am not able to communicate very well the ideas from the books in a conversational manner, so often times I would fabricate stories on the spot to explain the various themes from the books I was reading. These stories that I would tell seemed to help people better understand the ideas that I was presenting to them.
By Aidan Schultz4 years ago in Journal
The Frozen Heart
John was there once again staring at the blank slate of his canvas. The daunting task of painting the beauty of a lake weighed heavy on his heart. He had only just started to paint and felt that if he started something so large, he would eventually give up and move on. The only option John really had was to simply start on his project. It was a beautiful day outside with the sun shining through the leaves, casting little stars on the ground below.
By Aidan Schultz4 years ago in Fiction
The Forgotten Tree
Time was long, and the days were short. Still, the tree stayed standing. It was a pear tree widely known for producing the best pears in the town. Every year, people had come to take the sweet fruit that hung from the branches, and the tree gave willingly. The tree had always had a pleasant life in its little meadow. The tree had always loved when people came to eat its fruit. The humans always had a smile on their faces when they left with the crisp fruit plucked from the branches of the tree.
By Aidan Schultz5 years ago in Earth
The Empty Shelves
John sat on his chair reading an old book. He was reading Jane Eyre. John was an older gentleman of 86 years. He loved reading in his study. In fact, it was one of his favorite places. He could sit down and read for hours on end without being interrupted. The room would have been very big if it was not for the large number of books that sat on the shelves covering almost every wall. John had been a scholar of sorts at some point. He was always looking for something new to learn. Half of the books in his library had not even been touched by him.
By Aidan Schultz5 years ago in Fiction
The Drafted Soldier
As Charles made his way home from checking the track betting station his family had set up as a means of cash, he thought to himself “If I stay in this long enough, I can take over as the head of the family and really start to grow the family business”. Charles’s family was from gypsy lineage in Northern Britain, which was not the kindest to those of his culture. His mother and father had died when he was quite young leaving himself and his two brothers in the care of their aunt June. Aunt June took care of them as if they were her own because her own son and daughter had been taken from her when they were quite young. She had been accused of being incapable of taking care of her children because she was a gypsy.
By Aidan Schultz5 years ago in Fiction
