A Short Story : A Story?

“What is going on?” John blurted out. He stood in the doorway, his mouth hanging open. I slowly dragged myself up off of the floor.

It was a cold and foggy wednesday morning on june 10th. Hunter was sleeping on his bed when he heard his mom call him.

I couldn’t find him anywhere. Eventually, I started asking around for him. No one seemed to know where he was. I was getting worried. What if something had happened to him? I asked more people, when finally someone seemed to know the answer.

“Did you see the look on her face? She knew what the voice what talking about.” Alice whispered to me. “Is she dead?

“Before all of the questions, I need to know what happened to my parents.” The nurse looked uncomfortable.

“What happened, are you hurt or did you find something.” said the investigator with a

“Well, this is shocking”, he said with no tone in his voice, “I guess we should call the police now, inform them about what happened

“It's normal, if they did not find your corpses. They did not even know if you were in the castle.”

“Okay,” the paramedic said. “The coroner is on the way. The officers will stay here until they arrive.”

“Yeah, that puts him the proximity of the time of death. Something tells me that his roommate, who is his cousin will back up his story. Let’s see if his alibi holds water. There are no cameras and the only eyes we can rely on are his co-workers. We would have to work our butts off to prove that it’s him and I don’t want to build a bias case trying to prove a theory.”

It was a crisp, sunny, fall morning as Ava looked out her window. The sun was beating down on her nose. She had just woken up from a good night of sleep. She laid back in her soft, velvety bed and enjoyed the sweet smell of fresh linen and sound of birds singing. She lived in a small town in east Texas near Waco on a farm. She loved her farm and all the animals. She loved waking up every morning to the sound of the rooster and clucking and waddling around. It was music to her ears.

It was a warm summer evening when Wyatt arrived in Honolulu, Hawaii for his family’s vacation. Wyatt’s messy, dirty blonde Bieber swoop, bright bluish-gray eyes, braced up smile, and extremely pale skin made him stand out. If anyone looked like a tourist, it was him. His height was what some classified as abnormal. He stood out from his parents as well. They had dark brown hair. They were a little shorter, but his mother constantly wore heels or wedges and his father wished she would stop.

A dark-haired woman quickly made her way up the rusty metal stairs of an old apartment complex, holding her right arm as blood continued to cover her left hand and the area around where her hand was. She opened the door to an apartment, hurried inside and closed the door behind her, breathing heavily. A woman turned around in her desk chair looking surprised to see the woman, she seemed to notice the other woman's arm since she got up quickly and made her way over to the woman. "Jaiden! what happened to your arm?" the woman asked sounding alarmed, Jaiden backed away from her girlfriend as she tried to cover her arm up more than it was already covered. "Jaiden, let me see your arm" the woman said firmly "no, Emily it's fine" Jaiden told her as she still tried to back away from Emily. "Let me see your arm" Emily demanded trying her best not to raise her voice, "it's fine!" Jaiden insisted her voice raised slightly. Emily began to feel frustrated "Jaiden!" she shouted "it's not fine! Now show me your goddamn arm!", and Jaiden finally gave up and moved her hand away from her arm. Emily examined the gash on Jaiden's arm carefully; she muttered something under her breath the said "sit down" gesturing to an old, worn out loveseat "I'll be right back. She then walked down the hallway into the bathroom as Jaiden sat down and waited for her.

here were only few things one could learn about themselves in only sixteen years of existence, for the dew had settled on the grass, the rose had bloomed and withered, and Estela was still ignorant to the truth of her origins, and to the power she held elsewhere, somewhere far, far away…

“What’s the situation officer,” I ask the policeman that arrived on the scene before me.