A Short Story : A Story?

Through details, choice of words and especially the style in which this story is written, Callie, the narrator, guides our responses as well as our views of the events and people. From Callie “…remember[ing] exactly”(1) how it all started to finally telling us that she “…want[s] to get better”(150) we grow to understand what caused her sense of hopelessness and how she came to deal with wanting to cut herself.

When I matriculated to Oregon State University, I realized how alone I really was, and that my popularity had meant nothing because I had no true connections with people in high school. I did not know how to work for anything because everything seemed to be handed to me. Finally my sophomore year of college, I met Harper, who immediately fit perfectly into my life. I’d never been that close to someone before, we did everything together. As I sat on the bus thinking about her my stomach began to contract violently and I masticated on one of my apple slices to try to calm it. Senior year Harper and I had decided to go to a big party for Halloween in Portland. Half way through the night Harper came up to me crying and insisted for me to drive her home, refusing to tell me why. I agreed because the party wasn’t that great anyway, but we got in a huge fight over why she wasn’t being honest with me or telling me what had happened. I had turned my head to look at her just for a moment, her red hair cascading around her shoulders, her eyes filled with

It was a weekday in September when I came home from school, said goodbye to my family and didn’t come back for two weeks, but that was the first time, in all I was gone for a month and a half. Abington Memorial Hospital was welcoming, but it didn’t matter how distracted I was, I couldn’t escape myself. “Life begins where fear ends”, but it was a different story for me, when the fear of myself stopped, that would be because I would’ve done what I was terrified of and what I wanted the most, to let the rain

*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.

Waiting in the courtyard with my band one last visit before they go off to college, a representative of the Emily Program walks towards me explaining what the procedure was. Knowing the other two would pay attention I look around at the surroundings and in the corner I notice an orange tree, I wonder if that is where Skylar sits when she gets a free period. A caramel hand slips into mine and I look up to see the pianist pulling me with the representative into the building. As we walk through the maze of corridors we stop at a room, or a jail. The gray room is eerie and as we step into the room we see Skylar, her frame dwarfed by the band shirt she’s wearing. Hearing the door open she looks up her face hollow and her eyes no longer hold the same sparkle. As my eyes catch hers the wish that I was stronger for her resurfaces, as if she can sense my thoughts she quickly raises and beckons me to her. Three strides and I hug her pulling her frail form into my body. Her bony hands hold me close. I feel her thin lips near my ear and her husky voice brushes against my earlobe, “You are so strong, I’m sorry sweetie I was weak”. I feel the guilt and self-loathing that has built up finally leave my body as I clung to her frame. Knowing that she never blamed me, I was finally able to accept my actions, as those of a child, a child scared and afraid to lose the person that meant the most

Beside her, was Melanie. Melanie was one of those girls who was happiest when she was depressed. She was the wildest of us all. Her weekends were spent in dark cars with strange boys and she drowned every evening in the bottle of vodka hidden under her bed. I was envious of her each night while I sat, dried out, in my room. She sat through each class with one headphone in her ear, listening to music that would feed her angst. That day at our table, she juggled our conversation with one she was having over text messaging with some boy unknown to any of us.

I was walking next to Herman on the way back to my room from lunch. I rounded the corner and saw her standing by Anthony. She had hair the color of honey. Her wispy bangs fell above her sparkling blue eyes. When she smiled I felt a rush of emotions fly through me. She has a lovely soft voice that could soothe the most worried of people.

But when winter comes by and the wind is freeing my blood, overcast skies hiding the bright sun I cherished and relied on, that’s when I crack and think of that twelve year old girl. I think of that twelve year old girl who found life so difficult and piticul that she couldn’t function, couldn’t even get out of bed. She swallowed a handful of Benadryl in seventh grade, starved herself in eighth, spent her entire spring break in a mental health facility in ninth after being caught on the brink of suicide, and repeated this almost exactly a year later in

“Oh no, let Autumn know I’m here if she wants to talk.” The youth counselor, Misty, shook her head in dismay and quickly walked to her office. During my summer internship at the Stockbridge-Munsee Health and Wellness Clinic after my junior year, it was my first day in the Mohican Family Center, a place where community members are free to play games or speak with a counselor. I watched Autumn enter the doors, concerned about what to expect from a seemingly healthy young woman. She smiled politely and eagerly began to write in her notebook. As she began crying, I walked across the room to comfort her. Unexpectedly, she spoke happily about the cheesecake she had enjoyed earlier for dessert, then rapidly shifted about the overwhelming burden

Those words replayed over and over again in Jim´s mind, but then when he looked at the photo of Della, he knew what he had to do. The pawn shop would be closed by the time Jim got off work, so he had to convince his boss that he was sick so he could leave. Ironically once he got outside his thin jacket didn't protect him enough from the cold, so he began to develop a cough and runny nose.

The old rusting car shook as it rocked up the unpaved road leading the way up the hill. Crunching on gravel as it crawled along the car came to a stop. The driver side door swung open as a stubby old man wearing a peach colored coat exited his car to be meet by the dull light of the moon and the sound of distant waves. The man began slowly walking towards the sound of the waves until he was stopped by a steep and sudden drop off into a sea down below. The old man let off a grunt as he swung his legs over the side of the drop and sat down to stare at the water.

It all began with a simple phone call one Monday night after dinner. Lorenzo, my father hollered up the stairs, “it’s for you. It’s Alex, and he sounds anxious.” As I came downstairs to pick up the phone, I was curious, I was tired and had looked forward to a nice quiet evening at home, not another stupid adventure adventure with Alex. Thirty minutes later, however, Alex’s silver Mustang convertible swung into our driveway, and Alex was leaning on the horn before the car came to a full stop. Grabbing my coat from the couch, I walked out my front door with all enthusiasm as if I had a long-boring day of school ahead of me. As I got in the car Alex says, “it’s about Corey, he got a call saying his father was in a car accident.”

July 21st, 2015.. I first read, “Megan, you know I love you more than anything in the whole entire world but I can't be with you anymore, I just want to focus on myself”. All I could think was this was a nightmare. It wasn't true.. It broke off, my world has shut down, everything was black.. I felt I had just got my heart ripped out of my chest and thrown on the ground. The feeling in my throat where I couldn't even swallow from crying so hard. I cried to where I couldn't cry anymore.

It was a nice summer day, my 5-year-old son Sam was playing outside in the backyard of our suburban home. Sam has always been a quiet boy, he plays by himself mostly, he never had many friends, but he has always had a wild imagination. I was in the kitchen feeding our dog Dakota, when I heard what sounded like Sam talking to someone in the backyard. I’m not sure who it was he could be talking to, could he have finally made a friend? Being a single mom it’s hard for me to always keep an eye on my son, so I decided to go outside and check on him. When I went into the backyard I was a bit confused, because Sam was the only person back there. Was he talking to himself? I could have sworn I heard another voice. “Sam! It’s time to come inside.” I called out to him. He came inside and sat down at the kitchen table, it was about lunchtime so I decided to make him a sandwich. “Sam. Who were you talking to out there?” I asked. Sam looked up for a moment, “I was playing with my new friend,” he said smiling. I poured him some milk and continued to pry, as any good mother would. “Does your friend have a name? Why didn’t you ask him to have lunch with us?” I asked. Sam stared at me for a moment before replying, “His name is Funny Man.” I was a bit taken back by what he had said. “Oh? That’s a strange name. What does your friend look like?” I asked a bit confused. “He’s a clown. He has long hair and a big swirly cone nose. He’s got long arms, with stripy socks, and he always smiles.” I

“Girl, neither did I.” Crystal replied. I felt sorry for Crystal, such a pretty girl, smart, sexy but boy crazy. Crystal will give a man too much of her too fast. When I glanced at her, her hands were covered her face and I could tell she was crying. I could tell she wanted to finish telling me what happened but she couldn’t say the words. As I looked at her there were red lines on her hands, cheek and neck and she had several broken fingernails which silently led me to believe she was in a fight. We both were at a loss for words so she simply cried like a baby, she cried like Cameron did when he was learning how to walk and fell and hit his mouth on the edge of the table and cut his gum. I could not believe something like this could happen to a girl so nice. Crystal was not perfect, but she would give her last to someone she cared about if they were in need. I helped crystal to the bathroom and cleaned her scratches, which by the sound of her scream she didn’t realize was so bad. I told her she could sleep in the guest room and suggested she sleep in tomorrow since it was Saturday. Once Crystal was calm I silently prayed for her, I checked on Cameron and went to bed. I called Justin cell phone with no answer, where the hell was he. I didn’t even realize he was not home.