A Short Story : A Story?

“Uh, yeah! Sure!” When I knew I was l alone I ran all over town looking for the source of the snow. I finally found it at an abandoned warehouse just outside of town. I waited a couple of seconds before saying something but before I could, someone spoke.

*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.

The sun was high in the sky, gleaming down on us. The air was breezy, but not cold. The day was ordinary, or so it seemed. But what was out of place? That would be my brother, the only person who could possibly get himself into such a situation, with his impossible ability to almost die, but just miss the mark. As he sat there on the ground with his back to us, legs sprawled out in front of him, we didn’t even realize that there was anything wrong. Hold on a second. Let’s rewind this just a little.

Mrs.Chipley and Sally are at the front door soaking wet the moon was so close I felt like I could touch it. We knocked on the door someone was opening the door.

It was a rough couple of days after that. She decided not to go to school, afraid her emotions would get the best of her. She pretended that she had a fever and rolled in bed for what seemed like hours, worrying her busy mother. "Are you sure you'll be alright, honey? I dont want to-"

All of James' life he thought that he was just a simple man and that he would die, perfectly ordinary, in his small village. For 18 years he had lived life as it came to him, growing up in Thornwood. His life was peaceful and dull. Every day since he was young he gathered edibles and alchemy ingredients from the forest, to be sold at a small price. It was an easy job that he was good enough at, but for a long time, he had held a secret dream, to leave this place. If only he had more money, more power, he could do whatever he wanted.

The morning light shined bright, the breeze blew softly. A perfect day in utopia. This was also the day Kristina Baker ended the lives of four young citizens. She lived a wonderful life, until she murdered the family on her twenty-first birthday. Kristina Baker graduated high school winning the title of Class Valedictorian, started multiple foundations and charities to support cancer awareness, and went on to attend Harvard University. With beautiful lemon blonde hair, everyone envied her at school.

75 miles per hour. 80...85. Grave pressed on the gas. 100 miles per hour. They had to drive him into a corner. They had to keep him contained. But where?.... Grave watched the car in front of him take a left. He spoke into his radio,

Hetty brought a tortoise the day after her daughter died. Her only daughter, as it turned out. Her only daughter and her only tortoise, as it had also turned out. That was almost twenty years ago. The tortoise, Bertram, was, all these years later, still going strong. Still ambling around the house like an old man with dementia, bumping into furniture, getting lodged beneath furniture and nibbling said furniture in case it turned out to be as edible (or more edible) than it appeared. Sometimes, often in fact, he would creep up behind Hetty while she was doing the washing up or making breakfast, lunch or dinner and she was now in the habit, had been for approximately nineteen and a half years, of checking where she was putting her feet before moving away from the sink, the cooker or the kitchen surface, or anywhere else she had been standing still for longer than a couple of minutes, so as to prevent herself from feeling Bertram’s hard carapace beneath her foot, or worse, hearing the soft crunch of that carapace being crushed beneath her shoe.

I am in my room third floor of my building. I sit on my bed and reflect the incidents that transpired months before; however, the emotional scars still wrap around my body like tape squeezing harder and harder. I sit for what seems like hours, however, when I check my alarm clock, only four minutes seem to pass by. This has been recurring recently, I can't help but feel trapped in my mind like i'm my own puppet. I am abruptly jolted by the knock that lands on my door, I hear a woman's voice call out “Mrs. Rodgers?” A shiver goes through my spine a name I left that has come back to haunt me. I get out of my room to investigate, I am greeted by an older woman at my door. As I get closer I realize she is actually quite young but she has bags under her eyes. She looks like she hasn’t slept in weeks.

A humming engine roars through the brisk morning air. Two men dressed in grey suits drive in a white car, their dress matching the dull sky. The driver has light brown hair, slicked straight back. His partner in the passenger seat sports dark hair and dark brown eyes, his short hair parted to one side.

It was a Saturday morning and Lewis was unpacking his stuff into his new room. The Jungleport family had just moved into to an 298 year old house and everyone was trying to get used to the old smell, old wallpaper, and the old leftover things in the house. Abby was cleaning up her room because it was full of dust. James was scraping his walls because of the old wallpaper in his room. The parents were making sure the house was staying together.

It was the smell of smoke that was the reason I awoke on that dreadful night.The smoke was not from that of a candle nor of a fire, but rather the heavy pungent smoke from a cigarette.The unmistakable scent sent shivers racing up my spine and memories seeping into my brain.In the 25 years, I have lived only one individual I had encountered smoked strawberry cigarettes.I sat silently and pleaded that I was still dreaming, that the scent was conjured up by my imagination.And when I finally did sit up in bed I let out a blood-curdling scream.Standing in the doorway of the room watching me intently was my father.

“MASON! Can you come down here please?” I heard my mom scream for the 10th time. I ran down the stairs to see what she needed. “What do you need mom?” I asked. “So what are you doing for your summer job? Are you still going to help out around the campground? We do have new people coming you can help them.” She wondered. “Mom do we really have to talk about this again? Why do I need to get a job? I can help out around the house like I always do and I can still enjoy my summer doing that.” I said started to get annoyed. “Mason you need to get a job and start earning your own money. How about Barns and Noble? You don’t know how to read anyways maybe they can teach you.” She shot back. “Hahaha mom so funny. I’ll go check it out after I finish unpacking.”

She had long waist-lengthed hair was the color of a soleless midnight sky, her bangs chopped just a little above her forehead, and she had never smiled under any circumstances. Summer sat at the edge of her front porch on an old rocking chair, staring into the empty fields of darkness beyond her home. The world around her was sustained, it was what she needed. Looking up at the stars hoping that her beloved would be in this world somewhere. All she wanted was her lost husband at war to come back, she wanted Hitler to end his terrible thoughts and everything to return to normal.