Short Stories...

The wooden Skateboard had no peace, if ever you are a skateboard, hope to be a longboard,
or a surfboard, or a china made easy to break—Anything in the world rather than a

good strong Normal deck with a painted head and movable joints,
for that is indeed a sad thing to be.(in the mind of a skateboard)

Many a time the poor woodenThrashed skateboard wished it were a tin train, or a box of soldiers, or a woolly lamb…………

Anything on earth rather than what it was. It never had any peace;
It was taken up and put down at all manners of odd moments,
made to go to bed when we went to Rest, forced to get up when we got up,
be showerd when we were rained on, dressed when we were dressed, taken out in all weathers,

stuffed into their Lockers when we went to school, left about in corners, dropped on stairs, forgotten,

neglected, bumped, smashed, broken.
And even glued together for another round of pain and suffering,—anything and everything it suffered…
Until Manytimes it said sadly enough to its tragic little self,
 "I might as well be a human being at once and be done with it!"
And then it fell to thinking about human beings; what strange creatures they were, always

going about, though none carried them safe when they were very little; always sleeping and waking,

and eating and drinking, and laughing and crying, and talking and walking, and doing this and

that and the other, never resting for long together, or seeming as if they could be still for even a single day.
"They are always making a noise," thought the wooden skateboard;
 "they are always talking and walking about, always moving things and doing things,
 building up and pulling down, and making and unmaking for ever and for ever,
 and never are they quiet. It is lucky that we are not all human beings,

or the world would be worn out in no time,
And there wouldn’t even be a corner left in which a Thrashed skateboard could rest it’s wheels."


THE END