A Short Story : A Story Of A Story

Phoenix kept his head down as containers and papers were flung off the storage table he was seeking solace under. He completely missed the fact that his amulet had slid out of his back pocket and was now laying on the floor. His eyes widened when he seen it laying there discarded, every time the other boy took a step he flinched, afraid that the heavy footed jerk would step on it and shatter it. Slowly he reached his arm out as far as he could, trying to hook one of his fingers around the small silver chain.

On July 21st, a serious crime had happened. The town of Eastville will never be the same. The people, animals, and the town had completely changed, especially Penny. Penny will never be Penny ever again.

I bask in the destruction as the symbols of the most powerful beings on Earth simply melt away. I shut my eyes and let the snow wash over my skin, arms outstretched. I open my eyes to Jensen chuckling. “What?” I ask.

Rose rolled her eyes and mumbled, “ Well I was taking a nap and it’s been a crazy day.”

It was an absolute disaster. I pinch my face in disgust as I pick up one of the gooey clumps that were supposed to resemble sugar cookies.

When stories are told and tales are made up, you think of great heroes, random loot and epic adventures. Well see here’s the great ordeal we run into with those stories. They are so damn boring! You can always guess what will happen in the end. Not to mention the heroes always win with impossible odds! You essentially waste your time listening to some want-to-be story teller and their made up shenanigans. You must be thinking “what is this old drunk fool blabbing about this time?”

Amalia took a deep breath. And opened her eyes. I'm here again. A gentle, wind began to flit through her hair. It slowly morphed to water. How peculiar. Then it was wind. Then water. The gaps between the water sped up until there was no air. She was drowning. She tried to breath, but water was the only thing there. She clawed at the water around her, trying to swim, trying to get out, trying to breathe. Her vision blurred, her heart felt like lead in her chest, her fingers went numb. She needed to breathe. She brushed a wrinkled finger against a soft fur. She tried to grab it, but all that was left of the once delicate fur was sharp needles. They scratched her hand, causing blood to blossom through the water, staining the deep cobalt a crimson violet. Help me, she tried to scream. But the glacial water had numbed her voice, and all that escaped her mouth were the last bubbles of air. They floated gracefully to the surface, but Amalia was gone before they could touch the misty morning air.

A teen girl snuck into her apartment complex at noon. As she walked through the kitchen, her body froze. A part of her twitched, and before a plate could fall from her mother’s hands, she caught it.

Their honeymoon was one long shudder. A blonde, angelic and shy young thing, her childhood fantasies of being a bride had been chilled by her husband's stern nature. She loved him very much even so, though sometimes with a slight twinge when, as they returned home through the streets at night together, she would glance up furtively at the impressive stature of her Jordan who had been silent for the past hour. He likewise was in love with her, but never made it known.

Charlotte Diaz sat on her bed and started out the window. Her finger lightly tracing the cascaded rain drops on her window. She sighed and hugged her knees close to her chest. Her tears began to fall and mirror the raindrops outside. Charlotte could still hear the loud shrieks and arguments of her parents taunting her.

It was 7:00 am, March 17, 2018, a Saturday in Japan. It was a beautiful normal day, the sun smiled happily peeking behind a marshmallow cloud at the Ortega family. The Ortega family came out of their old rusted apartment, into their old grey broken windowed car. The apartment was filthy and was covered in moss, and their car was as old as their ancestors. Their dad Isaac dove. He is 37 years old, tall, with hazel eyes, curly dark hair that was as fluffy as a rabbit’s cottontail, was a couch potato, and needed to work out. Isabella, the mom, is 31 years old, with long light brown hair, carribean blue eyes, short and skinny, and she is loving and hardworking. “Mommy”, Lily said kindly. “Yes, sweetie”, mom replied. “Mommy milk”, Lily said. Lily is a 2 year old, a late walker (which meant she could only crawl), with light brown curly hair, and carribean blue eyes. “Be quiet”, Emma yelled meanly. “Mommmmmm!”, Lily said. Lily started crying, so loud it sounded like someone clanging the cymbals. “You both be quiet” said John. Emma is 13 year old, a skinny bone jones, short (in John’s terms), long straight light brown hair, and ocean blue eyes. John was turing today 15, he is tall and likes baseball, he has pure hazel eyes, and dark brown curly hair. This family was going to a new dome shape baseball stadium and was watching the Yomiuri Giants V.S. Tokyo Yakult Swallows.

“Nico!” Joe called out. It was getting pretty close to midnight and the boy was nowhere to be found.

“Exactly! Where was your mother?” I asked my question out loud not really expecting her to answer.

Daisy motioned for me to sit down and she sat opposite. “When we moved here and heard the stories I was intrigued, but it wasn’t until two years ago and we were pulling down the back fence that I figured it out.”

“What the hell were you thinking Genevieve?!” Sophia looked up the moment that she heard her father’s loud and angry voice. She was shocked for a moment. Not that he was angry with her and yelling. But because she wasn’t sure what she did this time to cause him to come angry enough to find her and start yelling. She knew that she wasn’t loved by anyone in this family. She was a horrible mistake. A mistake that came out of a drunk one night stand that meant nothing. “I don’t know what you’re talking about Sir,” She mumbled the last word. Knowing if she didn’t show complete respect she’d be slapped if not worse. She looked slightly to the right and saw her step-mother and one of her older half-siblings. At first she didn’t think anything of it. Aurora was being comforted by her mother as she sobbed. It wasn’t strange. Her siblings, especially her older sisters, loved getting her into trouble for things that she hadn’t done. “What the fuck is wrong with you?!” He screamed as he shoved a magazine at her face, so close that she couldn’t make anything out. Sophia wanted to come up with a sarcastic reply. Or even call him out for being a jerk or a horrible father. Except she could remember exactly what that would result in. And Sophia really didn’t want to deal with the bruises.