Short Story

Now, here I am. Living with my dad as the dark feelings of misery I had grown accustomed to slowly fade, day by day. As they fade, my perspicuity grows with it because now I know how she is, and how easily anyone can twist a story. I know that I want to go far away; I know that I want to be anything but what she is. I know that, despite what it may seem like on the outside, everything has changed: I can’t bring myself to regret

“I’ll have 6 eggs, a big glass of orange juice, a banana, and some oatmeal please” said DeSean “ You’re one crazy kid” said the female bartender at IHop. “Yes ma’am, I might be crazy ,but ready for football this morning” DeSean responded swiftly. The bartender responded almost immediately saying “Damn right, hope you do well this morning, I’ll have that food out real quick honey”. DeSean waited for less than 5 minutes before chowing down on over 1000 calories. He exchanged some words with the bartender and he was off to football.

“You left me, alone, with barely the hope that you were still alive. And all I get is this cryptic letter, seven years later?”

“But your father… he was cruel. You didn’t know this, but he used to beat me, Audra. And when you were a baby and a young child, he grew furious about how much attention I paid. You. He started to hit me more, and when he threatened to turn on you… gave up. He broke me. I forced myself to care less so he would not hurt you. And eventually, our relationship was so distant and fractured, I felt there was nothing I could do.”

''No!'' Yelped Iris in obvious distress. ''Do something!'' She screamed, not that she really needed to say a thing as Caitlin was already in full doctor mode and she taking a closer look at her patient's others vitals.

“I fell,” Madge answers through gritted teeth, clutching her calf tightly as she blinks out tears from her eyes as quickly as she can. It was just her luck that she’d fall off the wall like a complete idiot right after being told to quit. Maybe the odds really weren’t in her favor.

Millie Larson leaned against the counter, waiting for her mentor to wrap up his conversation with a friend. She pulled out her phone, glanced at the time and decided to review the notes that she'd taken during the interview with the captain. She was the lucky reporter chosen to work on the serial arsonist case and she didn't want to disappoint anyone. An immense feeling of pride stuck with her as she scrolled through her writing, her mind already mentally planning the story. The ding of an elevator made her glance up from her phone. The doors opened to reveal a middle aged woman walking towards the lobby, with a swift stride, full of purpose. Her high heels clicked on the tiles as she made her way closer. Millie heard the officer behind

“What do you want to say?” Looking at her, my thoughts were clouded. My head ached and my heart did the same. “I think I love you,” I managed, “that’s all.” Her fingers traced my hand that was lying limp on the cool metal, and she tied them into mine like a knot. “Come here.” was all she said. I jumped up and looked at the poisonous girl with the toxic dreams, and moved my face closer to hers. Foreheads touching, I stared into her jadedly beautiful emerald eyes. Pulling my free hand towards her face, my thumb traced the outline of her jaw. I moved my fingers through her hair, and she sat there, but she seemed content. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. I couldn’t kiss her. Not now. Not when she smelt like an odor that would stain my life, and stick with me forever, but I stayed there, running my fingers through her hair. Inhale. Double inhale. Exhale. “The only thing I’ll ever be able to love is darts.” She got up and left, and I sat on the hood of my car in

Flich will not stop talking with his mouthful. Walker seems use to it as his ear is literally chattered off.

Jaune knew that women could be confusing but this was a whole new level of unpredictable. He was a trained hand to hand combatant and he was the sheriff of a small town in the Vacuan desert he was feared by many lesser gangs in that area. But even now he had no way of defending himself from his mother looking at him and having her eyes water and begin to cry. Instantly he crossed the room and wrapped her up in a hug while say that it was alright and that he was fine. After a brief moment of silence she looked up at him and he felt his heart fall. She wasn’t mad like he had expected her to be. She wasn’t even afraid. She simply look at him for a long moment and said “ you are becoming more and more like your father with each passing day.”

“Jamie?” Dad peeked his head through my door. “Let’s go into the family room,” he said, as he entered my room. It was like tiny marshmallows tip-toed across my floor, that was so unlike him. It was usually like a herd of elephants marching across the valley, parading around as if they were the best creatures on earth. He walked over to my desk where I was sitting and grabbed my arm. He stood me up with one hand, using no amount of effort. Then, he gently started pushing me along, towards the door. His voice sounded sweet and understanding, as he whispered, “It’s all going to be ok.”

Looking into the girl’s eyes’ I could see my mother. I remembered the nights where I lay in bed, listening to the sound of the fighting. My mother would shout, my father would yell back, and then screaming, and whimpering. I remembered how would bury my face into my pillow, hoping I could also bury the problems. My father’s new job in Australia was our ticket to a better life, although it meant leaving my best friend behind.

His father turned his head and glanced at him. His eyes showed a weariness to them that reminded him of his last visit home. He worried for his father’s health, and felt bad that he was part of the cause of his stress.

Driving back to my Grandma's had become the norm due to the lack of wi-fi at my house and minor, yet constant disagreements between my stepfather and I. Owning a gray Jetta that sparkled once it hit sunlight, had an aux cord to play music that changed as much as my mood, and worked perfectly fine filled me with gratitude every time I started up its engine. On May 11 my dismal playlist blared from the partially rolled down windows in the car as a few humble tears rolled down my cheeks. This day pressed hard on my chest knowing my biological father should have turned another year older, not stuck at a young 32. Life happens and you have to keep going; however, I could have never predicted singing "If I die young" by The Band Perry and having

''Aren’t Joe and Cisco going to help us?'' Asked Barry, noticing that his foster dad and best friend were still absent as the rest of the team was preparing their plan of attack back at the lab. ''I thought you guys said they were supposed to join us here.''