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'If' by Rudyard Kipling. The short stories.

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The First Verse

Carter waited, and cursed his luck. The group of people in the public house were poised somewhere between angry mutterers and lynch mob and just one thing could set them off. One of them walked towards him, angry intent in his eyes and posture. Threatening.

He cursed his luck again. Of all the pubs to walk into, he had to pick the one containing his ex-fiancee, her new boyfriend out to prove himself and five of their friends. Four of which had been his friends as well, but no doubt in the intervening three years had been poisoned against him. He'd always stayed silent when asked about the reason for the breakup, said nothing about her cheating and stealing.

Then her mother and father walked in. He was a big bloke. Eighteen-odd stone, shaved head, tattoos. But generally quite a sunny disposition.

Carter wondered whether to break the silence. In a way he was glad the older man had arrived, he was probably calmer than the other guys. He nodded at the father. "Alan," he acknowledged.

"What are you doing here?" was the reply. The mother was a little startled to see Carter and stayed silent. Pity the daughter never learned to.

Carter thought, then answered honestly. "Just passing through, came to meet a friend and chose this place as it was nearest."

"We were here first," she spoke for the first time to her father, "then HE turned up. After what he did....."

Carter looked puzzled and it must have looked genuine, which it was having not heard her side of the story, because then her father turned to tell her to be quiet. Knowing his ex-fiancee, she'd probably overdone the protestations of innocence and transferal of blame. Probably done them to death in fact.

Carter waited. His pint of Belgium's finest premium lager  untouched on the bar, the packet of salted nuts not even ordered yet. He reached over and took a sip.

The father turned back to the group and said "we're leaving."

No arguments from them, and none from Carter either.

Before leaving, he nodded back to Carter. Something in his eyes. Forgiveness? Probably not, but maybe understanding.

He said nothing and left.

Carter ordered his nuts and finished his beer.

The End
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Author guidance for This poem

bandido Sort of a challenge. Take one of the verses from Rudyard Kipling's 'If' poem (below) and rewrite it into a short story. Or a screenplay if you fancy it. You can rewrite any of the verses which have been done before. Or two of them in one story, or all of them. Your choice. Edit - in my first chapter I've very obviously linked some attributes from the poem to the story, but you don't have to do this if you don't want to - just take inspiration from a verse or the whole thing. ------- 'If' by Rudyard Kipling IF you can keep your head when all about you Are losing theirs and blaming it on you, If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you, But make allowance for their doubting too; If you can wait and not be tired by waiting, Or being lied about, don't deal in lies, Or being hated, don't give way to hating, And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise: If you can dream - and not make dreams your master; If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim; If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster And treat those two impostors just the same; If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools, Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken, And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools: If you can make one heap of all your winnings And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss, And lose, and start again at your beginnings And never breathe a word about your loss; If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew To serve your turn long after they are gone, And so hold on when there is nothing in you Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on!' If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue, ' Or walk with Kings - nor lose the common touch, if neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you, If all men count with you, but none too much; If you can fill the unforgiving minute With sixty seconds' worth of distance run, Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it, And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son!

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