A Short Story : A Story?

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

*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.

Home alone, I open the door and find myself staring into an inimical pair of eyes. I’d spent two and a half years longing for this face off. Every move, every word had been practiced in front of a mirror and scraped to perfection. But in that moment, my throat faulted and my words tied themselves to the insides of my cheeks. The stranger I had once called my father handed me an envelope filled with beaten bills, too closely resembling his intentions, and ordered me to give them to my mother. Turning around, he recovered the keys sitting next to a pack of cigarettes in his left pocket, and walked away. I never knew silence to be so loud. Chasing after his shrinking shadow, I threw the envelope at his feet. Despite losing out on what would be a month’s worth of rent, I never in my life had felt more secure.

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.

The morning was gloomy and cold. Today was November 22nd at the Hope Lutheran Church. Today, my family and I were attending Grandma’s memorial service. My family looked so cleaned up and fancy. I thought if this wasn’t a memorial service we were going to, we looked like we were going to a fancy dinner. Nevertheless, it wasn’t the latter. All 14 of us piled into two separate cars and headed on our way. I felt empty and hollow approaching the church. Today would be the day that my family and I would shed waterfalls streaming from our eyes. The church had felt homely and rustic before, but now it felt dark and sad. Grandma didn’t deserve to die, I thought, as I went through the doors of the church. The church felt warm inside, like a warm blanket from the dryer. Why is 2014 such a bad year for us? Why did Uncle Mike die? Why

My grandma shifted in the shadows, her figure highlighted by the street lamp pouring thru the un-shuttered windows. The veins on the back of her hands noticeably ripple over the arms of the chair, as she tightens her body to lift out of the chair. Her arms bend stiffly as she moves away from her seat; her body creaks and cracks, slowly but surely she stands to help me.

Locking up the vintage, old, coffee shop once again was such a continuing feeling it seemed like it was becoming more and more of a habit each day I did it. I shut the door as the wind hit my brown thick hair, and walked towards my dad’s bridge with all of the inspirational words from him. Every Time I walked on the bridge it felt like I was getting more hope to go through life each and every day. After, reading some more of the inspirational words from my dad’s bridge, I finally went home and fell asleep.

The light was shining on Evangeline's face as she opened her eyes. Her head was throbbing and as she looked around her, she didn't know where she was at. It wasn't until she saw Mason and Casey sleeping beside her on the pillows that she remembered everything. The dancing and food and the new hideout. The alcohol and the laughing. The bright light. The loud noises. Everything. The world has died back to normal, no longer having the sharp clarity it had the night before. Her mouth was really dry though, so she climbed down the ladder, trying not to wake the others. She quietly crept to the mini-fridge in the corner of the room and pulled out a glass of water. They didn't have any Tylenol, so this would have to do for now. She ungraciously chugged the bottle of water and sighed, plopping down on the nearest beanbag and closing her eyes.

Athena was terrified. It was almost as if the wind was screaming at her as she was walking into the Forest. She was only going to take a few steps into the Forest. At least that’s whatshe thought. Athena could feel her heart beating in her chest so fast that she thought for a moment it was going to fly out. Slowly, she turned around, prepared to go back to her best friend. As soon as Athena turned around, the only thing she saw was shadowy trees, surrounding her, almost as if they were going to kill her.

“Hello Martin” The Fat Lady laughed as she pushed the Stop button to the elevator. Martin’s heart sank. He started to sweat and shake his head. The Fat Lady eyed his trembling face and made a concerned expression.

The day was murky, dark a bitter wind nibbling at my ankles, arms, and nose as I stood upon a hill observing the view before me. My great grandma had just been laid to rest at the end of her sunset to join my great grandpa, who I never met. Wearing my sensible black formal flats with my nice fitting black blouse and skirt below my knees, I ponder the life I could recall from my great grandmother’s life and can admit she changed with older age. To see her come from the nice lady I knew as a young child to the grumpy women I had last saw before her deathbed.

It was a regular day in the lonely office. At least, to any given eye it was. However, in Susan Terrance's eyes, it was a frustrating and sad day. One to mourn.

It was a freezing winter day and our whole family was inside huddled in one room by the fire place with a piping hot cup of cocoa with two or three marshmallows in it. Although it was warm inside Sarah and I wanted to go outside to the library anyways because we loved reading… well not so much Sarah but since I'm her brother we kind of did everything together. “Mother, Father” I said “ can me and Sarah go outside to the library?” they both paused and gave each other that one overprotective look and they said “John you only just turned 13 last week and Sarah's only 11” I realized that we would have to sneak out so when we were done Sarah and I quietly snuck out while the parents were distracted discussing things I wasn't paying attention to.

Sleep had been hard to come by that night. Every time Gabriel closed his eyes, he saw Madeline’s tear-stricken face and it pained him to no end. So he spent most of the night occupying himself with studying the stars and doing his best to keep his mind off his problems. The stars had always helped him with that all his life.

It was very late and the living room was beginning to smell of a foul odor. A woman was sitting on a wooden stool near the east-side window, crouched. She had a rosary in her hands and kept murmuring something to herself. The man, sitting down in her chair, was waking up. He opened his eyes and wondered where he was, but he didn’t panic. Seeing the white carpet beneath him, his naked feet feeling the Afghanistan wool, he knew he was safe. Wherever he was. His lungs were waking up too, for he coughed uncontrollably for a few seconds. His cough pierced through the soft quietness of the room and caught the woman by surprise. She had thought he was dead.