Short Stories

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

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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Four Seasons, Beverly Hills

It’s dark. The bright sunlight is sneaking in the windows behind the bar. It hits off the wine glasses parked in the window and sparkles. Glitter and glamour are in the DNA of this place.

 

It’s soft and tranquil. The couches are comfy. I feel glamourous just being here for a moment. Observing. Once again, I wonder who notices the girl in the corner — sitting quietly, drinking her bubbles. Feeling fabulous.

 

Sunflowers in red vases top the marble mantle. Fake. Which seems odd, but I guess fake is welcome here. The mantle itself adds a grandeur that can’t be fabricated.

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Ocean Beach

There’s something about the sound of the ocean; the smell of the salt water; the ebb and flow of the waves — it’s calming in a way that can’t be replicated. The air inevitably attaches itself to skin, hair and clothes, leaving beach-goers relaxed and salty.

 

Airplanes fly overhead, but they can’t be seen. Apparently June Gloom is in full swing, and the cloud cover refuses to relinquish its hold. Lifeguards quietly watch over the swimmers, occasionally offering words of caution.

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