Short Story

The lashes on his eyes stretch out miles upon miles upon miles, and she can’t help herself, so she reach up and trace her finger along the edge of his chin, catching the edge of the smooth incline of his face.

“Is everything okay over here?” She inquired. Seeing the angry look on the youngest one’s face, she takes a step back. Upon seeing the brand on the back of the letters, she quickly moves to get a better look.

He walks to the center of the room, spins around to check his surroundings, then runs his fingers through his hair like a comb. He walks to the corner of the room again and drowns himself in his thoughts.

“What a pair we’d make.” Lotor’s tone had always been an octave too low, a shade too suave, affecting too much for Lance to be completely sure that all his shivers stemmed from the low temperatures.

Waking came soon after sleeping had befallen Phil. He sat bolt upright, finding himself in a bed he knew not to be his own. He had no clue where he was. His hands fumbled about for his glasses, hopeless without them. Amongst the blur, he could pinpoint some familiarities but there was nothing concrete. He noticed a few of his knickknacks scattered about the room. The rest of the room, however, was a mystery.

I shoot up from my bed in the middle of the dark in a cold sweat, my eyes adjust slowly as I rub them in the darkness. I glance beside me at a familiar silhouette, it's none other than Thomas and I note his arm carefully constructed around my waist. In the few years I've known him I've realized this nervous tick about him, like a child, he finds the need to cling onto something in order to sleep. There have been moments in the night where I've found him cradling me like a beloved toy in his arms possessively but in the morning he's always gone and he leaves no evidence of his actions.

“Just having a quiet night in. Alice is at work so I get the remote all to myself.”

It’s 3:40 PM. I’m walking down the bridge staircase. The sun is staining the sky a bright blue. It’s not quite the pale blue of cotton candy at a fair. It’s a cartoonish, suburban neighborhood blue that would be pretty if it didn’t feel so fake. As I pass the painted wall by the school, a voice calls out to me.

An unsatisfying supper of turkey along with a few sides short of all the trimmings had awaited Phillip when he got home from Inez’s place.

It is batting practice and Arnold is up at bat. Every pitch coming his way he is knocking over the fence. He is unstoppable. After a couple home runs the coach comes out.

“What’s that?” Rachel asks shrilly, backing away from her six year old daughter as her four year old son looks up from his coloring nervously.

My sister took in heavy breaths. She was getting a stress attack. Those were never ever good for her.

Five days. Would it be an unexpected blessing? Or maybe, a curse? Desol knew only time would tell.

“You’re so young,” is all he says. I raise my eyebrows as he sits beside me, abandoning his number of papers and manila folders on the cabinet. His hand involuntarily shakes at the vibrations emanating off of me.

Corrine giggled and rested her hand upon Aidren chest “He just needed help with his Math homework, that 's all Mr. Darnell” she hesitated but it didn 't