A Short Story : A Story?

'The very good-looking young man hung up the receiver, and looked at the dial of his wrist-watch…He seemed to be calculating. So long for a young woman to reach her home, and throw herself upon her couch, so long for tears, so long for exhaustion, so long for remorse, so long for rising tenderness. Thoughtfully he lifted the receiver from its hook and set it on end upon the little table.'

Flicked, short motion of his thumb against his forefinger, that piece of filth she had missed from the table, uncaring as to which surface it was to sail to next- dispassionate gaze barely lifting from the table top long enough to assure that she had observed him doing so. Correcting that which she had been asked to do, to fix. Personal objects, dirt, and all manner of other he didn't want to examine too closely littering the surfaces of this apartment that he had followed her back to- serpentine gestures and back alleyway paths as if she could shake off whatever shadow it was she felt no doubt trickling down the edge of her spine. Was a creature bathed in deception and suspicion, shouldn't have at all been surprised that it was such

The night was closing in and I have yet to figure out which path I had come from. I stood at the fork staring blankly at the rusty-colored dirt. My first thought was maybe she was sitting under a tree a few feet away from the road. I looked about for her golden hair to peak through the limbs, but I could see no sign of her. I called her name, and again, no sign. I thought to myself, “perhaps she had gone to look for help at one of the nearby farms,” but that seemed fairly unlikely. My wife was not of Dutch origin, and her tongue for the language was fairly unintelligible.

Sarah slugged through the early morning work and realized-too soon- that she needed to make a trip to the house. She made her way, clasping her arms around her for warmth in the cold November morning. Painted Girl’s borrowed sweater did not help dissipate the cold air, and neither did the lingering whiskey in her system. A light shone in the window illuminating Grandfather and Dingle, who sat at the table together eating pie. She watched as Dingle grabbed a juicy strawberry from Grandfather’s pie and nibbled at it greedily. Grandfather must have finished his hunt early, Sarah realized. She had hoped to avoid Grandfather today but nature called. There was no choice, either the woods or the house. Sarah did an about turn and went for the

Up until recently the small, fine unit that was their marriage had been predictable. Now disrupted by erratic behaviour, shifting gazes and finally exotic dinners of all things. Her unpredictability upset him, and as he ate the spices stung his tongue. He ground his food cruelly to fine shreds and swallowed forcefully, and the tartness of his rage clung to his palette and tasted an unpleasing aftertaste.

She kept asking if she should cook dinner, but he wouldn’t answer her or talk to her. Mary noticed he wasn’t acting the same and that he was zoned out all the time. She was furious with him, and she left the room to figure out what she should do. She left to go to the kitchen, but she felt light and sick about what he did.

He then transfers me to the waiter’s number. The waiter explains that he served a couple and a close friend last night. However, during the dinner, the friend and Caroline had gotten into an altercation. The husband, on the other hand, was very quiet; all he did was smoke the tobacco pipe. The one thing that caught the waiter’s eye was a pipe that had a design of the Essex ship. The information that came across, led to a woman named Madeline Crook. She has been a close co-worker of Caroline for the past few years. I rush over to the address of Miss Crook’s home. Before I even knock, a woman with blonde hair, average height, and strong makeup swings the door open.

It was now after six in the evening, and he hadn’t stopped all day…had barely stopped all week. In addition to dealing with new work commitments, he’d been fielding calls from his wife’s – soon to be ex-wife’s – lawyer. And his own lawyer. The divorce was going to be settled quickly, at least. He wanted that much, and Alisa was good for that much; she didn’t want it to drag on, either. He knew he should eat and relax…he needed to freshen up, first. He pulled his suit coat off and headed into the bathroom…and just looked at himself in the

As Anita finished straightening out her dress, she felt him gently grab her arm. "Anita, do you have to go?" He asked, . "I'll be ready to go again in a few minutes." His breathing was heavy, the recent rigorous activity had him panting. Anita turned to look at him as he fell back on the bed,. The tiny room is almost pitch black, with an illumination of sunlight coming in through a tiny slit in the drab, 10-year-old curtains covering the single window in the room. With her back still turned to him she relied, "You know I can't stay, Ron." She sighed, feeling ashamed as she contemplated her destination once she left. "I know. You just taste so sweet." Ron was the easiest of Anita's "clients" to deal with. Generally, her other clients are quick to do what they want to do with her, then discard her as quickly as they could, as if that would help to ease their own guilty conscience

Awaiting the young hero's return the goddess couldn't help but stare off rather absent minded as the thoughts of the previous entangled within her brain. How would he react upon seeing her after all this time? Better yet, how would see? Seeing her beloved after such a long period of time; if made her heart beat nearly from the confines of her chest. A long sigh escaped her lips while the wafting smell of siring fish danced along the airwaves of the small one bedroom apartment, just across from the kitchen sat a table set for two with a rose in the center. It was romantic; she hoped. Dressed in a little black cocktail dress, and up-class converse green wedges. The lack of heels were, if only secretly a backup plan should he return with another

Moving about the room, she stopped here and there, fingering objects that caught her attention. The room was formal and pretentious and she wasn’t a fan. She missed her tents filled with carpets and furs and cushions, hand carved toys littering the floors and her bed tucked behind brightly colored sheer fabric. She had just thrown another log on the fire when a tall man let himself into the room closing the door loudly behind him.

When he’d first met the girl in the dirty alleyways of New Wiltshire, he was tempted to end her life as quickly and painlessly as possible. But when she fought back and challenged him directly, he was hit by the sense of curiosity. He couldn’t help but want to see just how long she would last. He’d never met a girl who was so intensely private and fiercely loyal as

While everyone in the amphitheater had their eyes glued to my former beloved, I was busy indicating him to the door that held the promise of death. Looking into his eyes, I could see the hopefulness that he had to live another day hidden behind the mask of fear that was plastered on his face. After I had discretely signaled the young man to the door on the right, he seemed oblivious to what was really coming for him in the next waning moments. All that he could picture in his mind was a beautiful young lady awaiting him on the other side of that door, not a bloodthirsty tiger who was ready to rip him to shreds. However, I believe that he should have expected exactly what he will find behind that door, for he was completely aware of my barbaric side.

Both of them lost control for the moment, as if they lost control using the paring knife and cut each other with their sharp words. Their night is near nowhere perfect, and for a moment, the couple’s plans are swept under the rug just as the narrator swept the knife, with the rest of

She grabbed a white gown and as she pulled it around herself, she also noticed that it had the same inscription over the breast. She dashed out of the bathroom, wondering what the hell had happened at the party. What if some psycho had taken advantage of the fact that she was drunk and kidnapped her? At least she knew that if it had happened, he had not yet had sex with her. She looked around the room and spotted her clothes folded neatly in the closet but her handbag and cell phone were nowhere to be found. Somewhere in the suite, she could smell the scent of fresh coffee and eggs cooking. Her abductor was probably getting himself well fed before he came to rape her. She felt a shiver running down her spine as she tiptoed her way out of the room into what was a living room. A sound in one of the adjoining rooms caught her attention and she decided that it must be the kitchen where the guy was busy preparing himself breakfast. What if they were many and they all intended to take turns on her? No, she could not let such thoughts ran through her mind, and besides, Beth would never have let such a thing happen to her.