Salved: A Short Story

“It was December and the weather bitterly cold. She was a tiny mite, the size of five years, though, as afterward appeared, she was then nine. From a pan set upon a low stool she stood washing dishes, struggling with a frying pan about as heavy as herself. Across the table lay a brutal whip of twisted leather strands and the child's meagre arms and legs bore many marks of its use. But the saddest part of her story was written on her face in its look of suppression and misery, the face of a child unloved, of a child that had seen only the fearsome side of life. These things I saw while seeming not to see, and I left without speaking to, or of, the child. I never

It was like two hands intertwining together when the moon’s light peeked through the gargantuan sycamore trees. We are on the treacherous run to freedom, and I am eager to get there. Because of my bistered skin, I was shackled and cuffed, and forced to work in a field my whole life without my family. If all goes well tonight, I will be a free man who makes his own decisions instead of having everything forced upon me by an austere master. It seems like we had been running for days and my feet had never felt pain this agonizing until now. We slid through the woods like a snake slithering towards its prey until we began to hear voices. They echoed through the trees and would not stop. Ducking behind opaque bushes, we waited for the signal

She slowly lifted her vision from the ground up towards the view of the forest. As she moved her head from side to side she looked in wonder at her surroundings. All she could see expanding right in front of her eyes was a beautiful crystal clear water hole with waterfalls rushing in from either side. Behind this amazing waterhole towards the right there was yet another exit out of the forest, although this one seemed different … it lead towards her street that she last remembered living on. Annabel seemed very relieved to see this exit but there was something that seemed to stop her walking out into her freedom. The thought of leaving the forest meant she would say goodbye to her parents for good. Annabel couldn’t bear to do this; she couldn’t live with herself if she knew there was something else she could do that might reunite her with her

Smiling, she enjoyed the ride from the grocery store. Excitement building at the thought of the camp-out. They headed toward the church for a 'Royal Scouts' camp-out, when Elisabeth felt the car slow to a stop. Looking to her mother she asked; 'What's wrong mommy? Why are we stopping?' 'Someone's car broken down, honey. So we're just slowing down so people can go around them.' She looked out her window at the little white car stopped on the two-lane bridge. With just barely passing the room, she watched as people moved their cars to the right side of the lane.  From somewhere behind their car, the sound of a freight train came squealing to a halt. With a burning smell of rubber, piercing her nostrils, a logging truck whizzed past her window. It happened so fast. When the truck came barreling down the road, it fish-tailed into the back end of Elizabeth's little white car. Shattering her window, Elisabeth as pieces of glass floated through the air and the car turned toward the ledge of the tiny bridge. The ringing sound of her mother's screams rang deep within her ears, as the water on her right slowly came into view. Jerking the steering wheel with all her might, her mother screamed as she desperately attempted to turn it away from the ledge. No matter how hard she tried, the wheel would not move in any direction. It was locked. Her mother threw her hands in the air while

On a damp and slightly foggy evening on the coast of South Hampton, midsouth in England, a man the name of Andrew Jackson Walks onto the port of where a major role in his life is about to be fulfilled. Andrew had always seen things in his dreams but this was surreal to him. He had previously bought a ticket onto a so-called “unsinkable ship” and he was eager to see why his dream had lead him here. His dreams were always quite colorful and imaginative, but they always seemed so farfetched yet surreal. A place that he could almost imagine he was standing in the very place he was now, yet this time it only seemed like a dream, it’s a dream he has had for a long time. Going out to sea, eating divine food prepared by talented chefs, and maybe meeting a new friend or two. He thought of all this just standing there, at this marvelous

It started raining yesterday on the trip here. The open wagon provided no cover, no comfort. What little things we had brought were soaked through. Mr. Avery, our driver, was a very harsh man. He gave no consolation or pity. Nothing but hate. A wicked old man he was. The wagon ride felt like torture. It was the longest four hours of my life. There was no conversation. Just Abrahams coughing, and my sobs, the baby didn’t cry, she didn’t smile either. Caleb tried to ask why we were so sad. I couldn’t muster the strength to answer. Poor boy. The second I stepped foot off that wagon and onto the dreaded ground of that farm I knew this was it, hell. Oh, I wanted to snap that woman's neck the second she struck Caleb. He’s just a boy. That woman, Ms. Ada Jaggs, was a witch in every sense of the word. And worst of all my husband and son will be separated from me while we are here.

“It is a shame that her father left her...this happened because her mother failed her job as a wife...she is so young...what was her father thinking?”, my relatives whispered as they sipped their tea. My cousin’s face turned pale like the white blanket of snow falling outside the lodge at the camp in Lake Tahoe. Her expression held so many emotions as if it was a canvas of a painting to be gazed upon. I could see that she felt frustrated and tired of these rude remarks, and all I did was just stand there and caressed the back side of her hands, so I could comfort her. Suddenly, it felt like the air had thickened so much that even a hammer could not slash it into tiny bits. My cousin had not yet known why her father left the house yesterday.

Purple bruises were scattered across her frail wrist like grotesque, swollen beetles. Her knee jutted out awkwardly to her side. Her bleeding, cracked lips were shrunken to a tiny buttonhole. Her tongue stuck out between her teeth like a piece of rubber. Her eyelids fluttered feebly as she lay there - defeated, defenseless, and desolate. Her chest heaved up and down, as her lungs fought for breath – she was barely alive. A caked, muddy trail of shoeprints followed him out the door. He had gotten away again. Tears prickled at the back of my eyes. My throat swelled up as my steely resolve began to dissolve. Grief shook my shoulders like an inner earthquake, the world around me crashing down. A nauseating mixture of relief and horror clenched tightly onto my loins – like when you finally stop an itch, only to realize that you’ve ripped a hole in your

I held Clementine’s hand in the cold as we walked through the snow covered field. Our breath hung in the air like sheets of ice and I could feel my own lungs as they greedily sucked up the frigid air. She and I had decided to attend the burning today. She said she wanted to bid her parents goodbye. I didn't tell her, but I was going to say my goodbyes to her. But I think she knew. She just had a look in her eyes, a strange one that proclaimed nothing but fear and a resounding emptiness. It was like she had just given up.

I walked about half a mile to Houghton Garden. As I was walking, I was reminded of how beautiful nature is. The grass was a light green and the sun was brightly shining on me. As I continued walking to the Garden, I walked past some turkeys and rabbits. They were also observing the beauty of nature. The weather was perfect. It was warm, with a slight breeze. After walking for about fifteen minutes, I finally found a bench to sit on. The bench was located on top of a small hill with a gorgeous view. The sun was shinning on my back, enhancing my view of the Garden. There were hundreds of trees surrounding me. The trees ranged from thin to thick. One of the tree’s branches had fallen and was dangling a few inches from the ground. The only thing that was keeping it from touching the ground, was that there was a

I fell into the depths of Maya’s beautiful green eyes and not even the currently setting sun could compare to their beauty. She pressed once more against the rusted iron gate that separated us, pushed it closed and once again took away my opportunity of joining my family, and let a pained cry of sadness escape her lips before turning into the shadows and dissolving into the darkness. Then the scene carried on as it had before as if Maya had been only an apparition. The crickets resumed their songs and when the frogs in the nearby creek began the harmony, I knew I was alone. The loneliness crept upon me like the cold of a moonless night. I stood and retraced the steps I had already taken earlier, that then had seemed to be nothing but magical when they led me to my wife, but now as they led me passed the unknown dilapidated shack that served as a safe haven for my wife and I and along the overgrown dirt roads of Eucalyptus, my steps seemed to lead me to my death.

Since there was not even a year between Elizabeth and I, we grew up to be really close. Yes, she was my sister, but as we became closer she became so much more. She became my best friend. When we were kids, Elizabeth was a calm soul with love and passion for nature. She loved the scenery that surrounded our home. The mountains, which looked like they stretched into heaven, and the seasons, so calm and breathtaking, gave her life joy and meaning. I, on the other hand, was deeply in love with "the thirst for knowledge" as they call it. I loved figuring things out. I wanted to know how things worked and what made them work. The world was a mystery to me, and my curiosity wanted to know all of its secrets. I only had two close friends

Some would say it; the weather was perfect for a bad decision. Gazing into the deep, cloudy waters of the treacherous river, she was reminded of a memory that she oh so badly wanted to be just a dream, she wished that all pain caused from that particular event would vanish. Shaking her head and furrowing her eyebrows she tried to shake the imprint that the episode had left on her. The river's waves collided against the banks, the change in the river's motions reflected her relationship with her husband – calm at times, but a disturbance in the calm water can cause a ripple effect. She thought walking would be a calm way to get away from the pent-up emotions she had been trying to run from, but everything in sight reminded her of her him; and that he was no longer hers. She walked with her shoulder slouched as she re-adjusted the baby in her frail, cold arms. Her watery eyes stared into the nothingness of the mist, still slowly advancing down the rocky path with no distinct destination in mind. Like a broken record, the images replayed in her mind. It felt like a nightmare she couldn’t escape, no matter how far she ran and no matter how hard she tried. There was no use, because the chant of their door that was slammed moments before he left, bounced off her eardrums and it began to become the only thing she could hear. Her

Once they had the rickety chair in place they climbed up and stood on their tiptoes and craned their necks a little so that they could see out. Below in the cold and lonely gray street, they saw men with yellow stars pinned to their breast coat pockets being beaten with clubs and mothers in anguish clutching tightly to their children. Some even tried to hide them under their skirts. But the soldiers in black uniforms arrested all the people in the street and pushed them through piles of dead leaves and into the backs of trucks before hauling them away. Once they were gone the children noticed that bright red blood had begun to pool and stain the stones below. Anna jumped down in tears and covered her eyes no longer able to gaze at the sickening

"if she didn't want to spend the night getting fucked she would have tolde no."