Category Archives: Short Stories

~Tangled~

tangled

Tangled.

This is not where she was supposed to be.

Shaken.

There was no where else to go.

Stunned.

She kept moving forward.

Aching.

Her heart pounded in her ears.

Alone.

She had been abandoned.

Crowded.

She could barely breath.

Strangely.

She dared the pain.

Confidently.

She let a grin escape her lips.

Proud.

She would take it on.

~Emily

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True Story

It was a dark, damp, creepy morning.  Braving the elements I crept outside, giving my all, to make sure my faithful canines were well taken care of.  My Belgian Malinois on one side, my Australian Cattle dog on my other side.  Carefully we made our way down to their yards, cautiously keeping our eyes peeled for any sign of trouble.

Quickly it leapt from the shadows, some mysterious creature, with fangs a foot long, dripping with crimson.  I could tell it wanted my precious four-footed friends, and I was prepared to stop it.

I leapt towards it, as it snarled at me, grabbing it’s gnarly, slimy fur in my fingers.  I pulled and pushed, as it slashed at me with its dagger like claws.  I punched, and jabbed, as it fought back.

My canines faithfully snapped at the horrific creature, as it fought me with all its might.  But I commanded them to stay back out of harm’s way.  The creature pounced on top of me, crashing me to the ground, its rancid drool, hanging dangerously close to my face.  I closed my eyes, preparing to deal it one last brutal blow.  And with all my might I shoved my fist deep into it’s gut, sending the rabid creature screaming into the woods.

{I swear that’s what happened yesterday.  Honest to gawd and such.  That’s why my leg is all black and blue.  That’s why I can’t move any muscle in my entire body.  Honest.  Because we all know my husband’s lovely dog is so well-trained that he would never run after a damn shadow and knock me into the air, to land square on my back.   Ugh.}

The end.

 

~A Quick Short Story~

She took a deep breath, and told the boy, she’d never let go.

She ignored his warnings.  The promises of the demons lining the road ahead of him.  The mountains, valleys, and rivers that blocked the way.

She’d walk it all with him.

Her heart, her soul, would be trampled, bruised, and scraped.  A casualty of his pains, not the victim.  She couldn’t turn away.

The path would be cold, and lonely.  Covered in shadows, and bitter winds.  It would hurt, and she would be hurt, but she’d never let go of that boy.

And maybe he was right, maybe one day, together, they would reach the end of that path.  And they could both laugh, together, at the trials they had conquered, the fear they had tackled.

Then together, hand in hand, they would continue down the next one, towards the next mountain that needed to be moved.

And then the next one.  And the next one.

And she would never let go.

She’s Not Ready

The feelings had built up over the years.  So many feelings she felt as though she was trying to wade through wet cement.  They were hard to make out.  Which ones were hard truth, which ones had other memories exaggerated, which ones never really happened?

One by one she tried to sort through them, struggling to make sense of them all.  She had wasted too many years, too many relationships, too many opportunities trying to just shut them out.  She had reached her breaking point, and promised that she would not be like him.

The man she loved, but the man who broke her time and time again.  The man who was her all, but couldn’t be there for her.  She didn’t want to follow in his footsteps, even though she never wants to let him go.

She wants to tell him this, all of this.  How he hurt her time and again.  How he forgot about her, how he so easily can turn his back, how he never was there to see the tears she cried… because of him. 

She wants to tell him how so many of her failures were out of the fear he installed.  How she broke many of hearts, out of habits that he had built in her.  How she wanted so much to make him proud, to make him stay, to make him care. 

She wants to show him all that she’s done, all that she learned, the good and the bad. 

She wants to know if he realizes the rage that can build in her blood, the temper she battles, the hate her mind can fester… because of him.  She wonders if he gets that the rush of tears she can’t control is because of him.

She wants to show him how it can be, breaking those chains, building, growing, how life does not need to be this way.  That life is more than the deceit, the anger, the games. 

She wants to tell him, she wants to show him, she wants to ask him why?

She’s not ready.  She may never be.

But she’s okay.  She’s doing fine.  She’s learning, she’s growing, she has overcome. 

And she still loves him madly, and always will for all of time.  He shaped her, he built her, he made her want more, to be more… And without him, she’d never be at all.

Short Story Attempt #3

The stars hanging above her head made her feel smaller than small.  They made her feel as if she were nothing at all.  She pulled the hood of her sweatshirt over her head, pulling tightly at the drawstring.  Wishing that the night breeze would go away or that she had brought her coffee outside with her.

She balanced her head back on the edge of the lawn chair, looking back up at brightly dotted sky.  Wondering what the moon thought about all of those stars.  She closed her eyes tightly, squishing out the day as completely as she could. 

She felt alone in a different world, this darkness, it wasn’t the same place by day.  Alone and surrounded by hundreds of chirping tree frogs, a distant owl, a howl, sounds she couldn’t even label, all closing in on her.

And she welcomed it. 

Her thoughts danced on the wings of a bat overhead.  She said something terribly wrong, just moments ago, something she couldn’t pick out, but something that sent him storming off in a fit of rage, doors slamming behind him.  A single tear ran down her cheek, as she tried to clench the hurt away through her teeth. 

Maybe this would be the time, that moment when he would finally give up.  Maybe this was that one single thing that would push him over the edge.  Something she couldn’t even remember.  She forced her eyes back open to the damnation from those stars, and stared hard, looking for an answer.

The stars stared back, mocking her. 

What was she supposed to do?  Go in and beg for forgiveness?  Forgiveness for what?  She always is the sorry one, maybe this time she should stand her grounds.  But it killed every inch of her soul to let the sun set on a fight with him.  But shouldn’t he back down for once?  And what was she going to do, sit out here all night crying with the stars, shivering from the wind, and picking june bugs off her clothes?  It was killing every inch of her soul.  She sniffled, wiping at her eyes, switching her focus back to the moon.

Maybe it was all over.

Her core trembled with the thought, she could feel the shattering of her heart.  Her eyes tightly closed.

“Hey.”  Her heart jumped to his voice, her palms instantly sweating.

She opened her eyes, and turned towards him.  Towards his outstretched hand, reaching for her.  Begging for her.  The hands that felt as though they could protect her from anything the world could conger up.  He blotted at a tear on her cheek with his thumb, so strong yet gentle, pulling her up from the chair. 

“I’m sorry.”  He whispered, honest but still proud.  And she didn’t care what it sounded like. 

She followed him back inside, eager to sleep in his warm embrace, turning once, looking back at the moon, whispering, “Thank You.”

Short Story #2

The end was closer than the underwire that was stabbing me in my armpit. I had meant to throw the old bra away months ago, it was on my list. That was before things fell apart. Our lives were being held together by a thin string, much like my underclothes, and both were as equally painful.

Two months ago we started this garden, my husband and I, more so for a hobby, something to do with the land we hand, something to build and grow together. We had no idea when we first broke the ground with that shovel that we’d be counting on it for a means of survival in such a short time.

That’s just the way things happen. One week you’re laughing over a beer, the next you’re practically begging for water. Water while it’s pouring down on you in massive hurricane ways.

First it was that injury of his at work, then me losing my job, then the car breaking down, illness… the rain it keeps falling.

He spends his days glued to the want ads and selling everything of value. Me breaking my back, cursing the ground I’m trying to convince to grow us something to eat. My hands resemble some red and brown version of shredded swiss cheese, and I’m positive the dirt will never release itself from under my nails. My sides ache with tremendous pain from the crying, from the hunger, from the work. My feet are swollen and sore, my arms beyond repair. This is all probably beyond worthless, but it’s all I can do. It’s all we have.

Two weeks, the bank said, just two weeks before they’d force us out.

So I dig, I dig and I pray. And I sow and I water. I pray and I cry, and my blood literally is being put into my work. Two weeks isn’t long enough to grow a garden, two weeks isn’t long enough to give us food. But my brain can’t handle anything else, there’s peace in the dirt.

My hand shovel snapped under the weight of the worthless clay soil, snapping my soul with one quick snap. I threw the pieces as far as my trembling arms could throw them. I wiped the sweat from my brow, leaving a trail of dirt across my face, and pulled at my bra strap. I was born overly determined, I’d die being overly determined. I dug my fingers deep into the dirt, pulling away, funneling my hatred for everything straight into the ground.

Pulling and moving, digging and clawing, making way for the only hope we had left. My husband’s shadow towering above me, filling me in on only more despair.

I collapsed next to the bag of seed potatoes waiting for me to plant them, laying my head on top of the burlap, praying for an end, I was done. My eyes fell upon the hole I was so desperately trying to dig, and let me tears roll out. Without much strength I talked to it, “Please don’t fail me, just let this stuff grow.”

The ground sparkled back.

I switched to another angle, the hole still glowed metallic back at me. Knowing now that I had totally lost my mind and dug my hands deeper into my hole, bringing my craziness up to the sunlight. Opening my bleeding fingers to reveal 5 small stones… gold.

 

If you’re new here or trying to catch up, you can find out what the heck I’m doing with these quick unedited short stories here

 

A Short Story Attempt, Day 1

Short Story Attempt #1

I tightened my grip around the leather leash, keeping Vinny my dog and best friend close to my side.  The new tension shot down the leash causing him to quickly halt and stare up at me, looking for an explanation. 

I didn’t have one.  We had walked this path, through the fields behind my house, at least a hundred times, but today it felt like a new strange land.  The same gravel crunched under our feet, the same telephone poles towered above our heads, I knew every inch of the trail, but yet I didn’t, and I couldn’t place my finger on the change.

Vinny pulled forward, picking up our pace.  I followed his lead, trusting the short red lab mix’s instincts over mine any day.  But I kept getting that feeling, the one that sends goosebumps over your flesh, and makes you run down dark hall ways at night, afraid to look back until your safely hidden under your covers.  But we were running away from our home, not to it. 

Half way down the gravel path to the other side of the field I stopped to look back, still trying to talk myself out of the chills that were running down my spine.  The path was empty besides a lone bright red cardinal pecking in the rocks.  I could still see my little house through the line of trees, sitting there empty, lined up in a perfect row with the other houses.  Everything looked normal.

A sharp loud bark forced a gasp from my lips, brining a chill down my spine.  Vinny was biting at the leash anxiously, barking in between nips, urging me to continue on.  His short stubby tail was tucked tight between his legs, and his hackles had begun to stand on end. 

I continued walking forward, further away from our home, as he pulled us into a full-out run.  Panic swept over me in waves so overwhelming it was all I could do to keep my body up right, to keep it moving.  Tears were filling my eyes, and cold sweet was pouring down my back.  What the hell is going on?

At the end of the trail, across the old fields that were once meant for a playground and playing fields for the subdivision was an old creek, one that only ever ran with water during storms.  We came here almost daily to wear Vinny out, as no one ever came this far down the path.  Behind it was acres and acres of corn fields sectioned off by old rusted barbed wire.  An old farm that didn’t get bought out during the town’s development days. 

Vinny yanked his leash free from my grips, darting under the barbed wire.  Cursing and calling for him, I carefully climbed through the twisted wires.  Turning around as it happened.

As I looked back down the path the entire world turned red.  In an instant everything we had just left had turned into a burning inferno, with black plumes of smoke filling the sky.  Everything was gone.

Before emotions and thoughts could even try to form, Vinny was back pulling at my pant leg, begging me to keep moving on…

The End

(Look, I almost sorta kind of did it!  If you missed it see yesterday’s post on how I’m trying to force myself to learn how to write short stories.  )

PS. Don’t mind the non-editing and rough-ness of it all, this was a 30 minute unplanned sorta thing.  🙂

And of course all rights belong to me… see the handy-dandy copyright on the right hand side of my blog.