A Short Story : A Story?

As she walked towards the white door of her bedroom, she hears distant gurgling. As if the sewers were backed up or the kitchen sink is clogged. Carefully twisting the knob, she was about to take a step out, but was immediately taken aback.

A golden light shines through the apartment windows. After drawing open the last curtain, Elowen rests on the window seat and places her breakfast on an unpacked cardboard box. She watches the aftermath of the morning storm cover the city below in a thick, shiny glaze. These are her favourite mornings, when her mother works an early shift. Something about waking up in a quiet house gives her a sense of peacefulness.

Now she has a new room. This new room, which I have never seen, is not in my house, but I can clearly picture it. The lonely room is accompanied by a single window, a bed, and a dresser. The window does not fill the room with the natural light from outside, but fills the room with overwhelming darkness, a reminder of the outside world. Cream-colored sheets cover the bed, and suffocate the slender mattress. The bed frame is made of frail metal poles that do not seem capable of holding up a sleeping person. The metal poles of the frame are a dull silver. The poles used to be shinier, but were dulled by the chill and darkness of the room. The dresser is small with not much in it. The walls are painted white, but the paint is chipping off, which only reveals the white wall beneath it. The floor boards, a jaded-colored brown, are especially worn-out at the door from the many people that have traveled over them before. But, these floorboards do not creak like the ones at home, they are sturdier, much sturdier. There is no groaning radiator, the only groan in the room is the hopeless one let out by the springs of the thin mattress when pressure is placed on it. At home, the sturdy, wooden frame of Julia’s bed is stronger than the frail, dull metal poles, and the only chipping of paint on the walls is the chips of the neutral gray paint where posters and pictures once hung on her wall,

Jen could smell cigarette smoke as she descended the stairs to the basement. Mrs Laurence was slumped at the kitchen table, her head in her hands. The ashtrays were full and empty wine bottles littered the draining board. Glancing at Jen, her eyes mudged with last night’s make up, she gathered up her cigarettes and phone and left without speaking. Silent and inward looking, she looked like someone burdened by guilt and fear, and too defeated to waste her energy on spite.

Sarah Montgomery sat on the small ledge by the window seat, watching longingly as happy children walked home from school. Murphy was on her lap, whom she was petting gently. Sarah took one last glance out the window before heading downstairs, with Murphy following at her heels.

Leaving the motel on Highway 74 around 3:00 o’clock, Marlene drove faster than usual to get home ahead of Jerry and Andrew. Smiling, her thought lingered on the last few hours spent with her lover. Pulling into the garage, Marlene parked her Mercedes, brushed her hair put on fresh lipstick, before going into the house, relieved she was home when her husband and father-in-law arrived. Wanting to surprise them, she went into the kitchen to make a pot of coffee, sat down at the counter and glanced through the mail.

Sitting up from his mattress on the floor, he could see the light from his window outlining the corners and details of his room. The dusty brown walls. Their were cracks and parts of the wall paper were tearing off. The tan carpet floor and dark stains here and their. He could also see how messy his room was, which was strange because he’s usually quiet tidy. Magazines, notes, and blue prints scattered across the floor. He could also see the cans of Citrus Acid energy drink around the recycling bin. It was getting full.

I didn't mess up today; I couldn't think of any mistakes I made after I came from school. Half asleep and ready to say goodnight, I opened my eyes to see Reneé in my room. Her frumpy brown clothes and tangled hair made her appear homely, and her obsidian eyes paired with her dark, blemish-ridden skin made her look tired. With her hand on the light switch, she looked around casually before narrowing her eyes on my duvet on the floor.

Emma scanned the blueprint another time as she looked over at the large building in front of her. Pulling her legs closer to her, she could feel fletchinder’s eyes scanning the paper as well. Her mask was on and she could feel the pressure as it seemed to tighten in her chest.

“Please tell me, why there is an ostrich in my living room.” Kendal said from her bedroom door. She closed it to keep her Hemingway cat and her hubsand’s new lab puppy in there.

Pidge sighed and flopped down onto her bed. "Ugh... I'm so bored," she muttered. She lied there, staring at the ceiling blankly. She blinked, the ceiling light making her squint. No wonder her eyesight was so bad. She turned over and picked up her phone. As the screen lit up, she had an idea. She called Lance.

Tamotsu’s twin sister, Tatiana, practically barrelled Anya over as she stormed into his room, raging, “You didn’t fucking tell me mom was sending you off again. None of you ever tell me anything. Stars, I hate you sometimes, you’re stupid, why do you always let her do this to you?” she demanded, the words tumbling out of her mouth in a heedless rush.

All day yesterday all I could think about was Thomas. we only had chemistry together, But he didn't even look at me. Its like he's drawing me in. And now I'm sitting at the table looking down at my breakfast.

‘Oh, well, I don’t know...’ Then she reached inside the bag and popped a toffee in her mouth. After all, a sugary treat during wartime was a rare occurrence indeed.

Tired from walking laps around the apartment, Mallory pushed away toy bricks and novels with his feet and sat down on his pale yellow bed. In his only t-shirt, which was severely torn-up, he looked up with his brown eyes and pulled on a string. The formerly dark room lit up. It was a stinging yellow light. It illuminated his room, a mess of toys and poorly-laminated children’s books, too brightly.