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Hello everyone! As we transition into the holiday season, I wanted to share some of my short stories. So curl up by the fire and enjoy!
Unrequited Reading
Reading is my serenity, but alas, it is also my suffering. I love flipping a page and tumbling headfirst into a story, unsure where I’ll land but sure that I’ll get there. I love the sound of cracking open a book’s spine, fresh with dust and ready to be explored. I love the smell of the thick paper and the stamps of printed ink. I love the words, each written with careful thought and precision, the feeling that there is a human hiding behind them, lovingly penning them in a cozy room, perhaps lit softly by a glowing lantern.
But to read is a struggle, a battle, as I fight tirelessly above all odds to reach the finish line, obscured by the horizon. I resent the children who read with ease, conquering story after story, devouring them greedily like they’ve been starved for days when in reality, their bellies are full while mine is the one fading away, receding back into my bones. I languish over a simple sentence that others can vanquish with a simple flick of the eyes.
I pick my high ground, sinking low behind the back of the couch so they won’t see me coming. I light the lamp beside me, a symbol of war and the liberty I’m fighting for. I draw in a breath, preparing to charge into the combat and determined to emerge victorious. My eyes flick to the page and the enemy forces assemble, closing ranks and drawing their weapons. The words are shifting, forming high mountains, misshapen trees, and craggy rocks. Birds swoop in, circling above, hungry for blood as the battle begins to rage. Carnage and gore is littered around the page and the stench of death is thick in the air. I’m being outsmarted as the letters trick me, taking another form and then bursting back into the right shape for only a split second at a time. My eyes hurt, and I’m getting weary. The soldiers are closing in, overwhelming me and slowly drowning me, dragging me under and blocking out the beautiful blue sky sparkling miles above my head. I half heartedly give my final attack to no avail. As I near the end of the page, I’m no closer to a conclusion-much less a victory-than where I had begun. Admitting defeat, I close my eyes and the enemy vanishes
as I sink to the bottom of the water, never to come up for air again.*
Billy
At school, I’d watch Billy furtively as he approached the kids from the grades below. He would saunter up to them, his fat bottom waggling behind him, and begin to laugh at their small, trembling forms. He would criticize everything, from their clothes to their lunches, and even the name of one gap-toothed little girl. His cronies skulked behind him, snickering and egging him on.
I watched every day, curiously studying the school’s food chain, wondering how boys like Billy made it to the top. Billy wasn’t that good looking himself, after all. Scraggly, dirty blonde hair shot out in every direction on top of his enormous skull. Pale eyebrows framed his watery-blue eyes and tiny lashes. Billy’s eyes were always hungry, searching for new prey and glinting with malice and cruelty. I had never understood how one person could have so much hate. He had fat, pink cheeks, that always burned redder as he destroyed child by child. Tiny lips curved up in a pout, like that of a boy who had been denied another cookie. His thick neck sprouted down into the rest of his round body, his belly always peeking out from under his cotton shirts. His knees bent slightly inwards and he walked with lurches, as if it were a struggle.
Despite this, Billy was well-liked by his fellow predators at the school. The cool, older eighth-grade boys talked to him and he had set a record for the amount of times he had been called to the principal’s office, which was considered a feat among his comrades.
As I grew older, I began to notice a pattern among kids like Billy. I watched carefully as his fat mother would pick him up after school, sagging and shaking with alcohol. I observed as he wore the same clothes year after year, collecting different holes and stains as time went on. I saw his resignation and dejectedness on Father’s Day, when all the children excitedly brought their homemade cards to their fathers at pick-up, while Billy just picked up his bike and pedaled off alone down the lane.
There was a day three years ago, in the first grade, when I had smiled at Billy from across the room. That very same day when he had fallen and scraped his knee on the playground, I rushed over to make sure he was okay. He had never acknowledged my efforts, but I always remembered that Billy had never bullied me.
Ophelia's Fall
Weeping, she runs to the cliffs. The cracked stone path is familiar and brings comfort in her turmoil. Tears trickling down her face, she approaches the edge. Many a night she had spent here, dithering over the jump but now she was certain. Nervousness pulses in her wrist and her hair swirls in the angry wind. She didn’t deserve the delicious taste of air or the gently stitched clothes on her back. No, this was her fate. This was her worth. Breathing deeply, she takes in her surroundings for the last time.
The breathtaking sky above is ruptured with stardust sprayed over a stained inky purple backdrop. Stars hang like delicate crystals, dissolving into glitter as they fade into space. The dark corpses of dead lights lay in the rift, crowded by those still clinging to life. The cliff ducks and swerves to avoid the heavenly carnage and the beach below weeps for its cousins above. The flat floor of sand below tries to escape being smothered by the velvety carpet of the surging ocean. Raindrops descend from the upended heaven through the fractured sky. They splash and giggle softly as they reunite with their long-lost sisters. Then, washing away the midnight blood that drips from the veins of the dead, shiny and fresh, spreading like watercolor on canvas.
It’s then, standing soaked in the rain, toes squished in the murky waters of the fallen drops in the dead of night, that she realizes. As long as the wind keeps blowing, the rain keeps falling, and the day continues to wake up from it’s slumbers, she has something to live for. She would continue to walk the Earth, breath the life into her lungs if only to watch the sun set and the waves keep trying to kiss the coast. Taking in a shaky breath, she turns her back on death and walks to the field of grass that lies ahead. She lays down, the blades tickling her nostrils. At that moment, she laughs, for the beauty of her life is overwhelming. She laughs between the tears and the anger and the sorrow. And just as dawn tinges the horizon, she laughs as she lets sleep fall over her like a child’s warm blanket.
The Tears of the Beach
I’m at the beach. The cliffs are tall, like insurmountable fortress walls, protecting the princess inside. Up here alone it’s peaceful, standing in the breath of the wind with the calm waves coming up to kiss the beach before being pushed away, but they persist, and it’s a mesmerizing cycle. The air is filled with the tangy scent of salt and ocean. It burns my nose, causing it to run. Sea stacks stand, independent, balancing proudly through the ocean’s constant fighting. The uniform sand is a barren landscape, cold hearted, each individual grain fighting for breath beneath its brothers. The sky is overcast, grey, but not in a bad way. It’s soft and gentle, enveloping the seaside and coming down to hug me atop the cliffs. Soon, the tears fall, gentle and cleansing as they ascend to their upside-down heaven and become one with the sea. It’s never ending, an old safe place for a brave outcast. My frayed jean jacket, protects me from the blooming wet spots of rain and the crisp, clean ocean wind, trying so hard to break through and tickle my skin. The gentle crash of the waves is a comforting sound, like a lullaby of the past, joined by the whistling breeze, zipping through the cliffs. The light sheet of rainfall accompanies the rest, quiet but noticeable. Together, they make an orchestra of the coast. Layers upon layers of rock and sediment lay sleeping, buried beneath each other, revealing a rainbow of earth stacked to the heavens. The scene stretches on, the smell of fresh rain asserting itself over the salt. I reach my slender hand out to catch the eager little gusts of air speckled with droplets as they swoop around, giggling each time they escape. I inhale deeply, absorbing the peaceful atmosphere as the world stops for those few seconds. I’m at the beach again.
*In case you didn't get it, this story is about a girl who loves to read but is dyslexic :)
Hey guys,
Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed! Make sure to send me a message below if you have a thought you'd like to share ;) Happy holidays!
Loreleixx
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