A Short Story : A Story?

“Really?” Adair asks, “okay.” He sighs and makes his way to the back; picking up the bag of trash slumped against the wall and carrying it to the back door, grunting and groaning. He pushes the door open and steps into the dim alley backing the restaurant, shivering against the bitter November cold. He fumbles with the keys in his pocket until he finds the right one for the garbage. He hears a banging noise and spins around. There’s a man standing behind him, he stares at Adair with fearful eyes. His thin sweater pulled tightly around his frail body.

I climbed on a low brick wall that had crumbled over time. My eyes roamed over the graffiti and my hands couldn't help but rub against the cracks and ridges that had been there for far too long. A few spare weeds dryly coughed in the air. My impatient hands tightened against the cold structure involuntary. "There you are!" I heard a voice over the stammering of feet. I twisted around to find the caller. He was just another face in pushing and pulling in the tide of people. "Over here!" He shouted again. My eye caught hands frantically brushing the sky with his fingertips. I pushed through the stampede. "Where have you been all day? I couldn't find you at lunch." Ross (that was his name, right?) guided me through the crowded parking

Buzzing townspeople littered the streets, emitting an atmosphere of excitement and anticipation. Basil leaves that atmosphere behind, weaving through the dim alleyways, each turn further distancing him from the noise. Soon the cobble path turned into gravel, each step making a crunch that bounced and echoed on the decaying walls. A cool breeze from behind him pulled at his gray cloak, entering the dark abyss of the warehouse entrance before him. He steels himself— shoulders lowered, chin up, and back straight— and enters the shadowed entrance.

Bellowing out the oversized rough looking man showed his gun at Abram, ‘Get the hell out of my sight you piece of shit!’ Stepping backward Abram nodded, although overwhelmed silently pledging a new chapter in life, and began the journey home. Flowing gust of wind blew endlessly, dressing the scene with dark moving clouds, within each ruffling leaf his heart sang. The idea of danger bypassed his soul entering into the darkest area, on the edge of the once crowed park. Previously empty streets are lined with vehicles of all sorts, tall aging street lambs offer no help, most are in need of repair while a few stay dimly illuminated. Reading the signs along the way, “No Parking” increasing his pace realizing this is not a good position to be in. There are no apartments close by, the park is too dark, he could not see anyone, or for that matter hear any noise whatsoever. Little did Abram know, there are people, many dangerous people watching his every step! Two middle aged men keep their stranger under observation from a building a distance away. Communicating to another set of men sitting in a van with tinted windows along the parkway. Passing a large truck Abram had no idea the graffiti truck held many more people with high

The street was eerily quiet as I crossed. So was Mike. Staring at me unwaveringly, he said nothing as I approached. The crow's feet framing his eyes, the ridges in his forehead, and the crinkles in his cheeks still stand out in my mind. How many nights had he lain on that bench, covering his face as the wind whipped against it? Now he hugged his body tightly. He was wearing an old pair of tan khakis, a shirt that I couldn't see clearly, and a light multi-colored jacket, its sleeves ending above his pale wrists, that was just slightly too small and clung to his body. As I gave him the money in my wallet, he took it--slowly--and stared at it for a second in disbelief. Although the street in front of the library is usually an amalgam of car horns, headlights, whining engines throughout the night, nothing--not

It was cold and dark. At seven o’clock, Asthon walked through the alley into his office. It was the fastest way to get into his office. One hour before, his boss had called him for an important meeting. He ran a bit because he didn’t want to be late. The weather was so cold also and he was not wearing his thick coat. Street in the alley was muddy because of the rain fell in the afternoon.

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.”

Those people were muttering indecipherable words and communicating in strange gibberish. They were dressed in tribal wear and with them they carried ancient weapons. The weaponry was rather rare to be manipulated in 2013. Then, suddenly, the group of people had disappeared too, and the Kiethers had no sight of either of them.

It had been several hours since the incident at the clinic. The children were asleep in the bungalow lit by the faded yellowish red hues of the fire light. Perfecto had been awake for the longest time contemplating the next step. He didn’t want to deal with the looming presence of things to come, like the aftershocks of an earthquake. More than anything he wanted to leave and start again.

The sun was blazing in the sky, it was a warm summer afternoon and my sister and I were home alone, waiting for my parents to come home from work. In the ten minutes of them arriving, there was another gentle knock on the door followed by a very unusually quiet and seemingly humble voice.

I ran and I ran as fast as I could, Athena called my name Jack you are a chicken, come back I need you! As I ran away I went to a police station and which I told him everything as the chief replied she will be locked up for good. The next day on the news I saw here poster saying missing and charged with 5 accounts of murder. For two months I felt like something was watching me. Then I flipped on the tv the very night I was creeped out I saw an insane girl found dead. As I looked over my shoulder in the mirror next to the tv I saw Athena dead. Shouted dad. Ahhhh! I exclaimed, oh it was just a story Haden I promise my dad said calmingly. In that moment I realized it was not a story, it was true as I look at my dad's piercing blue eyes I saw Athena was my dad's sister.

“So you like this girl in your art class,” Momo reiterated, trying to grasp at what Mina said beforehand. Momo found that if Mina hadn’t spoken in a flustered jumble of words all strung together, they wouldn’t have gone through this painfully slow process.

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

This is the story of a girl and her siblings trying to help her family that they never knew about before to find a missing parent, that they thought was on a business trip.