A Short Story : A Story?

It was a cold and foggy wednesday morning on june 10th. Hunter was sleeping on his bed when he heard his mom call him.

She was stupid she thought. If she had a modicum of sense she would have told someone, she thought as she went behind the motel, the moon was full and glishing, once upon a time such light meant no monsters should come to prey. The grass was flat and crystallized with ice. There motel had no noise apart from the whistling of the wind, leaves rustling as it passed through the trees.

“Uh, yeah! Sure!” When I knew I was l alone I ran all over town looking for the source of the snow. I finally found it at an abandoned warehouse just outside of town. I waited a couple of seconds before saying something but before I could, someone spoke.

It was the 1930s and the day was clear, no signs of dust for miles. Only the mounds of dust on the ground leftover from the last storm. The roads were empty so Jaxon said today would be a great day to go, but I didn’t want to. Besides, I already knew what was going to happen I just want to avoid it. It was too perfect, something was up.

“Um I need I need to go my mom's waiting” I lie and quickly run down the steps before he can say anything else.

*Slam*. The door shuts. The room was silent, you could hear a pin drop. Leah left and I heard the car start up. We’ve never gotten in a fight like this. Tears started streaming down my face. The tears started streaming down my face harder and harder by the second. AGHHHHH I screamed. I slowly got up from the table the chair squeaking making the same sound it made when Leah left. WOOSH. I think that was the fastest I’ve EVER turned around. I saw a small shadow. Nobody else was home. but there was still a shadow? I walked around the corner…nothing. I ran upstairs and WOOSH again. I checked my bedroom and Leah’s bedroom. There was nothing in there.

Perhaps, Sunny Hill Cottage and its significance is best explained by the memories my family and I formed. Memories such as the night of the Fourth of July. These lasting memories surpassed the gloom of the cottage. Furthermore, these memories exceeded the lackluster appearance of the deteriorated white outside walls with the damaged shutters. The musty inside of the cottage with its faded colors is replaced by my memories. Despite, the despair of Sunny Hill Cottage there are enduring memories, in which will be appreciated for a

“I’m not doing that...EVER!” I thought to myself. But who am I to burst my parents bubble? After a few turns and hills we came upon a small little cottage. It was quaint with a thatched roof and flowers

or recruited a Tom Cruise. It wasn’t important who started the fights. Both the obstacles and the triumphs enhanced the journey and swayed the reckoning of the mirrors.

“Mmm. Pardon. My coffee . . .” She pressed the mute key, cleared her throat, and unmuted. “Please, excuse me.” What was this dribble on her keyboard? Latte drool. Mortified, she wiped her shirt over her chin. At least, he couldn’t see her.

She was scared, lost, and confused. Anyone could tell simply by looking in her eyes. As she stared out the window, Margaret could see it all. She saw every fear spelled out in the woman’s eyes. Margaret’s heart cried out in pain as it broke into several pieces.

“Hannah drove her to the doctor,” Shaw told him. “She needed something to help her relax.”

The putrid purple of old bruises gleamed helplessly against the limpid replacements— it was all my fault.

Most people who’d undergone pain would say that going home after an incident would be the worst part, having to deal with the aftermath of their emotional outbursts and what was happening. Vivian, however, felt nothing as she walked. The cold wind was biting through her, and she could sense that rain was coming nearby, mainly due to the odd twinge in the air that she’d learned to avoid having a delicate instrument with her at all times. Yet now she walked through the streets alone, each step pressing on the cold stones underneath her and making her that much more worried as to what she was going to do.

“Got it!” She muttered, nudging the door open. Perfect, everything was going according to plan… was. As soon as the door opened wide enough to step in, an earsplitting siren went off.