Short Story

Just as she was about to continue reading, her cell phone went off, she saw that it was her friend Jennifer, so she didn’t answer. She was so engrossed in her mother’s diary that she squirmed in the chair to find a better position so she could get comfortable, and in doing this a newspaper clipping fell out. The heading read:

I gave a rough kick to his leg under the table, wiping the smirk off and replaced it with a pained expression. “You’re Blake Lawson and I know you don’t need me to be another person forever in your debt. Are we

Stay away from me.” Yells Aaron as he ran into the arms of Jasmine, squeezing her tight and not letting her go. Sophie is speechless. Does Aaron know the truth of Katrina’s death,? Sophie wondered. Jasmine looked away and looked around the house that had once been a bright happy family home, all the experiences are now faded memories. “Why don’t we go get some fresh air,” Sophie asked Aaron. They both walk outside and sit down the lushes green grass. Sophie still holding Jasmine’s diary holded it tight in her hands staring deeply into thick brown cover, but she wasn’t just captivated by the book she was overtaken by the red blood finger prints that laid on the bottom left hand corner of the diary. Aaron looks at Sophie, then at the house and then back at Sophie. He grabbed the diary from Sophie and opened it. He flicked through a few pages till he reached the exact page that Sophie had read earlier, grabed a pen out of his pocket, took a deep breath and started to write something “I know you killed my

She decided to look down for the rest of the walk after getting glared at by a passerby. As she was watching her feet and skipping over the cracks in the pavement, something had yanked the back of her jacket. Whipping around, Becca saw a shambled family. They were tan and soaking wet; their cardboard home shaped the background of the frightening portrait Becca was faced with. A wave of angry words, desperate words confronted her, echoing without meaning her mind. The mother of the two children fell to her knees weeping, pleading for something Becca would never exactly know. The daughter, the girl Becca realized pulled her jacket, stared at her. Dark chocolate colored eyes were melting with the heat of her pain and her brittle lips smoked with the speed of her pleading words. Becca was being pulled away unknowingly when she heard a familiar rumble coming from the pit of the girl’s stomach. And just as soon as the encounter had happened, it was over. Concern replaced the sound of desperation and she let her family know she was fine. She went back to looking at her feet. In a couple of minutes, Becca’s family arrived at the

Seth sat silently in the back seat of his mom’s car. He had been staring out the window since 9:00 this morning for the past 10 hours he had been in the car. His mom had frequently been checking on him through the rearview mirror, but he didn’t blame her. He knew that she was worried about him. After all, until 3 months ago she had been in the same state of mind he was right now, so he knew that she understood what he felt like. On some levels anyway. She couldn’t fully understand what he was going through since she hadn’t been the one to cause the problems. Yet here they were, making the annual trip to Seth’s grandparents house the only difference was the were a man short this year. Their home was in Minnesota only 5 miles south of the Canadian border and in the middle of nowhere. It took the police 50 minutes to get there and there were only a few people that shared lake Kabetogama with them.

"Who's that boy that walked you to our door?" My mom queries, scaring the life out of me when she pops out of nowhere. I had just finished locking the door behind me and I just wanted to go upstairs and change into some pajamas. But I guess not.

Abby gets up and they start walking towards the door. Donald gets on the nearby horse. “I shouldn’t be any longer than two weeks. Goodbye Darling.”

In fifth grade, James Vance was elected the Mayor of Chicago, Illinois. As the only child of the Vance family, the whole city’s eyes were on her. At first, she took the new publicity well, being polite, proper, and quiet. She made many new friends at her new private school, having play dates almost everyday after school. But soon rumors about young Emmeline appeared in the tabloids. Emmeline’s parents made sure Emmeline wouldn’t see them, hiding them whenever they came in the mail or were emailed to them. One day, Emmeline had come home early from school to have a daughter father day, something that rarely happened since he had become mayor. Emmeline searched their apartment, but couldn’t find her father. He wasn’t in the bathroom, he wasn’t

Martina had always known about her family’s situation. She knew the risk her parents had taken, she knew of people who it had happened to, but never in a million years did she think it would actually happen to them. It happened on a crisp October afternoon. Martina walked home from school, keeping her head tucked into the neck of her sweater, hands in her pockets. She approached her home and as she walked to her door, she felt an eerie silence from her house. She stuck her hand in her backpack and felt around for her keys. She didn’t like to ring the doorbell, in case her parents were sleeping after work. She found her keys and inserted it into the bronze lock. As she stepped in,

Kudzu got some fresh cat food and water in his usual spot, and Sophia set up to feed Paloma on the opposite side of the kitchen. The kitchen table was set for four, and Sophia was the last to sit down, opposite Andy and between Barbara and Chip, who both reached out their hands to her. She put her hands in theirs, and Chip bowed his head and delivered the shortest prayer Sophia ever heard. “For what we have received, we give thanks. For what is to come, we say, ‘Yes!’”

“And stay out!” the penetrating voice thundered from the lighted entrance of the tavern. Alexis dropped down to the ground and sobbed openly. She had just lost her job bartending at the tavern. She had worked there for sixteen years, how could they fire her for breaking a crystal goblet that already had a chip in it, she thought in anguish. “How can I pay for food, when I don’t have any money?” she whimpered aloud.

Katie’s picture of her mom the day before she passed had vanished. In the frame, she thought of it the night before. Her last glimpse before she had gone to bed. Now the morning arose and her last moment, the one thing she had left, down the drain. The images in her head of her mom gasping for that last fight, that last moment, that last breath. Wiping the tears away Katie could hear her dad from across the hall. Crying or laughing? She asked herself. A few steps down the long gloomy hallway chills were sent up Katie's spine as she could indeed tell it wasn’t laughing. Katie cracked open the door ajar to see her dad on his knees pleading to himself that all hope was lost. “Dad,” Katie called out from the other side of the door. “May I come in?”

He dropped his bag on the floor and he logged into his computer. It was just another day at his boring dead—end job.

On the night of the date, Victoria was ten minutes early while Austin was ten minutes late. At one to four minutes, she would have given him a pass, at five to nine minutes she would have judged but, she would have allowed the date to continue, but ten minutes? It was a shame though, Austin seemed nice. Without a word to her waitress, she left the restaurant and began to walk home to her apartment. Victoria began thinking over the fact that she would have to find a new coffee shop, since it would be so awkward to see him again, when Austin suddenly grabbed her arm from behind. He begged her to give him another chance, his firm placed him in charge of a VIP client and he had to get started on their case immediately. He promised that he would make it up to her immediately. They rescheduled for the next day and to Victoria’s surprise, she had a good time.

It was the party of the year, only the hottest, richest, and most popular teen socialites could attend. It was in celebration of surviving their first full week of senior year. There they were, scattered across the enormous penthouse, martinis in hand and holding meaningless conversations with people they probably didn’t like talking about how much daddy’s money bought them this weekend.It was the same spiel over and over again, money this money that, it was almost like because they had so much money it's all they could talk about. There was however something else a little less shallow among their conversations. There had been rumours circulating around Pembroke Preparatory School all week that Cordelia Scott, the once wild child “it” girl