Short Stories

Sometimes we're all in the mood to escape to somewhere.

Goswell Road Coffee

 

It’s a Tuesday morning. And she finally gets to do this. Just sit in a café and write and sip a cappuccino with chocolate sprinkled on top. How many times she’s walked by her own favorite café on her way to work…longing for a time when she could be so carefree as to just stop, sit, sip, and write. Now here she is. Still a bit tired from the nights of work…a different kind of work…she takes it in. Trying to squeeze out as much joy as possible.

 

Part of her longs for the sleeping man back at the flat. But the nights are for him and his art. The mornings, maybe, can be for hers. She could get used to this. Bopping around from place to place, city to city. Soaking in the nightlife as he shares his talents and his voice with all those who will listen. Her, waking up early to make time to find her own voice. If you have a story inside, you must get it out. She read that recently; some famous dude said it. But it sounds right.

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The Fae

She opened her eyes after what felt like years of sleep. Frozen in place, she looked around, taking in…whatever or wherever this was. It must still be a dream. A light dew covered her skin. It was starting to get light. But she couldn’t tell from where. There was no sun here. Maybe it was the moonlight. Suddenly, fog was everywhere.

 

Numb. She couldn’t remember the last thing that happened. Tears. Yes. But they would no longer come. On to somewhere or someone else, she supposed. It’s almost as if she wanted them to stay. There is comfort in tears. And truth. What now?

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Jaded

“I’m jaded, but I think I like it.”

 

She stood outside in the cold just to feel something. One hand holding a joint, the other shoved in her pocket flicking a penny back and forth. An owl hooted in the distance. Other than that, it was quiet save for the wind whistling in and around the buildings now and then. The tourists had already fled the city for the night.

 

Her breath swirled around in front of her face as she thought back on the day and the weeks since she’d been here. Numb now, the burn of the smoke in her lungs was the only thing still hot.

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Ghost Town, Part 2

Read Ghost Town, Part 1.

A shopkeeper opened his door with a loud screech and started sweeping away invisible debris.

 

Startled back to reality, her plans for retreat were momentarily interrupted. Feeling silly for being scared, she flashed the smile that never failed her and added a nod for good measure.

 

It’s just a sleepy little town in the middle of nowhere. Used to the big city, it’s only natural her imagination would run a bit wild. All outsiders must be something of a novelty to the people here. Of course they would stop and stare.

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Neverland

If I never left, I wouldn’t know how to miss her.

 

Instead, here I am…longing for a place as unforgiving as she is magnificent. A place who can’t be understood by those who don’t know her. By those who haven’t lived (and loved) her.

 

I drudge up memories of the exhaustion, the frustration and the expense — anything to remind myself why I’m here and not there.

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