A Short Story : A Story?

“And now dear, it is time for bed. Charlotte will show you up to your dormitory, won’t you Charlotte?” smiled Auntie Cockles, before giving Charlotte such a stare, that she at once stood up and began to lead the way.

“It’s not everyday we get company around here,” I reminded myself, “we haven’t shown our chateau in ages.” As we walked down the elegant staircase, each step creaked one by one. My hand-held lamp with the bright, burning fire was in clutch as we walked around the dusty furniture until we saw some of my men. They were silent, but you could see the fear in their eyes - almost like the fear in Rainsford’s. One had the guts to come up, and offer another light looking for a way to impress me with his concern, but I quickly declined.

“You don’t just feed junk to someone after two months of-” He cut himself off, groaning and rubbing his temples. It didn’t look like the coffee was doing much for him.

I squeezed around the cluster of men and into the hall. Flashlights flickered on the walls. Someone suggested we turn off the lights and wait in the dark. It was eerily quiet for a long time. Then Ting-Ting whimpered in Mr. Greene’s arms.

Silently, I waited a moment when all at once, I heard a clumping noise and saw two figures descend the stairs. Gemma held on to one of her grandmother’s arms, and slowly, deliberately, they both took a step down together.

She didn't talk when she woke up, I said "Casey. I do love you." She let out a deep breath but didn't look at me or talk. Her mom arrived at the hospital, she took a quick flight out to make sure Casey was okay. She brushed her hair "Honey. Why did you do that to yourself?" It was like she couldn't speak; a tear fell from her cheek. She whispered "When can I leave?" Her mom hugged her "Honey please tell me why you felt like you had to commit suicide? What's going on?" Casey sniffled and inhaled but didn't speak, I stood up "It was my fault." Her mom looked up "How could this be your fault?" I started tearing up "I couldn't tell her how I felt, my mind froze." Casey looked up "Mom can I talk to him alone?" Her mom got up and went out of the room, I sat back down "I'm sorry. I just couldn't get myself to say anything, I can't hurt you anymore."

It was raining. It was gloomy. It was dark. Everything that Yoongi adored about the rain. The sound of his teacher's voice made him turn his head from the cold foggy window.

“It’s good… It’s really good,” answered Phillip as he continued to woof down the doughnut. “It’s a lot better than what we have at home.”

“Yours was closer,” Taemin replied, taking a bite at a piece of toast smothered in the guts of dead strawberries.

Alexander nodded to himself. He exhaled. The man in front of him was beautiful and vicious. Tall and

Clemmie woke in a strange room. Where was she? The only noise came from a fire where logs burned and crackled in a grate. Framed photos lined the top of a mantle but they were too far away to see. She stared for a while into the flames and let her mind drift. Shapes formed in the flames. First a gargoyle, and then a girl’s face. The bright orange light hurt her eyes so she let them close. A few minutes later she jerked herself awake again. She felt hot. She kicked off the blankets only to find she was naked underneath. She blushed and covered herself before anyone came in the room.

Nat pulled a stool forward and sat down, leaning forward put the cigarette up to the top of the flame, the flame lapped at the cigarette for a while until the end glowed red like the embers of the fire. Nat withdrew the cigarette from the flame, put it up to his mouth, hesitating then sighed and gently put the cigarette in between his lips. It hung downwards, as he drew in a deep breathe, allowing the smoke to fill his mouth, he gently blew out and watched the blue-grey smoke filled the air around him. “Tomorrow, during the next tide, I’ll have to go out and see if there are any survivors,” Nat sighed, “If we can find anyone maybe they’ll know of a safe place.”

Sammy and I board quickly. He heads to his seat after a quick nod of encouragement. I sit down at my seat, happy it is at the end of the row so I don't have to squeeze by anyone. I feel like I have been waiting forever when the lady came out wearing a blue hat and started to "prepare us for takeoff" whatever the hell that meant. I look over at the people sitting next to me and see a kind looking lady, maybe in her late seventies and some guy wearing a trench coat and a tie. His hair is what could only be described as "sex hair" and from what I can tell he hasn't shaved in a couple days.

And there, in the most overstuffed armchair the world has ever known, sits Mr. Hayes, his wire rim glasses perched on his nose, waiting to slip onto the unforgiving floor. He wears his business attire: a button down shirt under a long brown cardigan, wrinkled suit pants, and leather loafers. His thinning white hair and wrinkled skin had no effect on his eyes, which shone like new pennies. He was a peculiar man, very systematic in his habits, and a great conversationalist when you could get him away from his great pot of melted wax. Arden often joined him there to test out his newest scent

The smoky smell of the fire, the scent of meat that was being cooked, all the noise, the prying strangers, and the barking dogs, was overwhelming. When Mrs. Cleary tried to force Ina to eat some food all she could do was become nauseous. But Mrs. Cleary continued to fuss away at Ina still trying to force her to eat. She kept pushing a spoon at Ina saying "You must eat something dear....you must eat something....just try!" Christopher kept crying and was unhappy at all strangeness and noise of the people and dogs around him too.