A Story Of A Short Story

Anna Beth Stevens grew up in the south. She was brewed with tradition in the wind and potatoes on the table. She always dreamt of breaking free of her snow globe town. She witnessed a sitcom once based in Beverly Hills. It left her yearning to know what lay in store on a separate coast. However, lighting bug jars and knee scrapes filed her summer. The tormenting of the neighbor boys would not do itself. Anna Beth was fearless and smart. When she was 9, she filled coffee filters with flower and cayenne pepper. She wet the bottom of them just enough to break when hitting the faces of the boys that lived behind her grandmother’s. They had no idea what had just landed in their eyes causing them to cry an uncontrollable cry, but they knew from that

Eliza limped towards the lake. She didn’t know why she wanted to be there so bad anymore, her leg was throbbing and blood was pooling around her. She felt weak and she was shivering even though it was easily over ninety degrees outside. She looked back at the city she had come from. There was no longing to return as she stared at the towering buildings behind her. Her mom, of course, had exhausted that feeling away from her. Eliza turned back around, she could see her lake now. Half unconscious, she half ran, half stumbled to the makeshift bench her and her dad had made when she was five. When she reached it, she sat down with a thump, tears streaming from her eyes and down her cheeks. How did things end up so badly? She looked down and watched

The sky turned dark. The grey evening rain clouds hovered over my head, blocking the early summer’s sunlight. Cool wind blew over my face as a distant sound of thunder threatened a raging storm, but I was unfazed by God’s wrath and I made my first step out the door; drawstring bag slung over my back, umbrella at hand and marched forward assertively toward RM.

Every step feels her legs growing heavier – they feel like the mud she pushes her boots through, thick, sludgy, and difficult. Nevertheless she continues searching for shelter. It’s difficult to see three steps ahead with the rain causing

Her eyes struggled to stay open, slowly blinking but never closing. Droplets from the clouds rolled down the windowpane, like copycats of those running down her face. The night was dark with shadows. The only sounds in the house were the plump raindrops falling on the windowsill, the clinking of beer bottles and the sound of her nervous breath. She had to stay awake for she had left the moment he had passed out on the dusty couch in the living room. Her sweaty palms clutched the leather straps of her bag. Her body shook like a small dog’s and the wind made the trees sway like the ghosts of everything she’d ever known. The sound finally came and so did the closing of her bedroom door.

It wasn’t a good day. Thick blackened clouds hovered over the town. It brought down heavy rain, with large distinguishable drops. The silence from fear was disrupted by the large roaring thunder. The tents allowed water to drip inside, the gusting wind caused the tents to dance in the wind.

Starting the dark dreary walk back home, I barely sensed the harsh pounding of raindrops on my forlorn face. Thunder crackled ominously overhead, a tidal wave of mucky water covered the dusty streets. The world seemed to be crashing before my numb, tear-stricken eyes.

As thoughts flooded her mind, she began to make irrational ideas. The day had been simply dark and overcast, but in seconds it became a wall of water, the covering on the buildings did nothing. As the heavy rain drops hit the little girl in the centre of her head, the drops running down her face following and mimicking the tracks of where her dry tears once ran .

It was a muggy summer’s evening and of course with her luck, there was a curtain-like downpour of rain as she made a dash to her car. Distracted and irate, Maria drove into the grey twilight of nightfall with the limited vision the weather

The house remained dark and the storm seemed to just keep getting worst by the minute. Ellie listened to the rain hammer down onto the tin roof like millions of gun shots. Upstairs Ellie could hear a door opening and closing, making a slam noise every time it shut. Ellie creeped up the tall oak stairs. Trying to be as dainty and quiet as a mouse. Ellie could feel her stomach-turning upside down. Ellie kept telling herself everything was fine, it was just the wind. The noise of the door continued. Ellie reached to top of the stairs. Walked over to her bedroom, where the door was aggressively slamming.

Ava was a 16 year old girl with dark skin and springy hair. She lived in Colebrook, a quaint town in northern New Hampshire. At Colebrook Academy she excelled at study hall - practically failing all of her classes - opting for a more exciting path in life. At home, Ava found herself in a small and dilapidated townhouse. The color faded building had a wobbly and splintered front porch; siding, filthy with mold; shoddy window installment; decaying shingles; a single dormer, with a sagging roof; and a hefty door made of steel, covered with scrapes and dents.

Clare breathes deeply in and out her nose trying not to slip from the rain. It was too hard to see as all the streetlights were out and the only source illuminating her way was the opaque moonlight. The hard gravel she runs on soon turned into a muddy, grass patched surface. They were in the woods. Dorris made a turn to the right hand side and suddenly stopped. Clare sighed with relief.

“Y’know, you really didn’t have to go to the trouble. You’ve lived here long enough to know this is normal for the storms here.” The old woman set her ‘coffee’ down before crossing her arms and walking to the backdoor, looking through the small window that met her eye level. As soon as she did, debris came crashing through the window and hit her in the forehead as she fell before staring in surprise.

It was to late for Margot to see the sun now. As she got lead out of the closet tears ran down her face like Niagra Falls. All she had been waiting for her whole life was to see the sun’s rays sto upon her and she got that one thing taken away. Her tears and sobs silenced the tunnel. However, as much anger as she had inside, her crying took all the possible energy she could’ve used to yell or scream. And standing upon her were the backstabbing, ignorant kids who looked at her as if it was her fault she knew what was coming.

In the middle of finally succumbing to the realization that living her life was harder, by far, than simply dying, she stood on the roof of his old apartment, barefoot and shivering, cradling a picture against her pounding chest. The cold rain beat over the worn portrait and the edges saturated. She could feel the photo weakening as she rubbed it between her thumb and index. Pieces of the photo began to stick to her fingers and roll up into little shavings. Thunder rumbled somewhere to the East, past the ozone of the city, past their home, but not quite to the coast. No one could hear her scream or cry or wheeze or snot... No one would look for her if she stayed right there, in the rain, listening to the nearby cracks vibrate in the pit of her stomach. She couldn 't look into the eyes of the child in the photo, but she held it up in front of her face sporadically to see the warbled image through her tears. She shook more, and the hairs on her arms stood erect and her nose ran and she cried. It didn 't matter what the cold concrete felt like on her knees, that it smelled like trying again, that it reminded her of the desert because it was not... There was nothing that mattered... Not the sound of the rooftop turbines surrounding her, clacking and sputtering water as the wind blew more. Her