Posts Tagged ‘story’
Hell Hounds
Posted April 7, 2013
on:I deeply regretted faking an injury during gym class in school, because now, I could barely breathe while I was running down the sidewalk. My lungs, and not to mention every muscle in my body, were on fire. It felt like nitroglycerin was being pumped into my veins and into my muscular tissue.
Everyone on the street stared at me like I was a lunatic, and perhaps I was. Three abnormally large dogs, all of which looked like mutant Dobermans, were currently chasing me. They were barking and growling, and I resisted the urge to look back.
“Watch it, lady!” Someone shouted.
“Excuse me, sorry!” I shouted at a stranger after I physically pushed them out of my way in order to run down an alley. There had to be somewhere to hide. A dumpster, maybe?
I looked around as I sprinted down the alley, yet no dumpsters were available for my hiding purposes. I did, however, find an old iron ladder attached to the side of a brick wall, leading to the rooftop of the building. I looked behind me and saw the dogs, their eyes red and wild, and screamed as they launched toward me at full speed. I jumped up to catch onto the ladder’s rail-like steps.
I hurried upward until I heard a screeching sound and felt the ladder sink back down a few inches.
“No, no, no! Come on, I’m not that heavy!” I screamed, to no one in particular, as the lightweight frame resisted supporting me.
The dogs below jumped up and violently gnashed their teeth, all of them barking so loudly that it began to hurt my ears. The ladder continued to wiggle and weaken with my weight, and I prepared for it to give way completely.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
I heard gunshots within a few feet of me, followed by the dogs yipping and howling. They ran off down the alley until disappearing into thin air. I looked around, feeling slightly disillusioned.
“Just what the hell do you think you’re doing, running from Hell Hounds?”
I looked up to see a man leaning over the edge of the rooftop above me, blinking a few times. “What?”
He rolled his eyes. “Hell Hounds, you dunce. Those things that were just chasing you and about to drag you to Hell.”
I laughed and carefully descended back down to the ground. “Right, okay Mr. Crazy. Those were just dogs. Albeit abnormally large, they were just normal dogs, nonetheless.” I brushed my dirty palms against my jeans and looked up again, yet the guy was no longer there.
“Right, because normal dogs usually have red eyes,” a voice whispered behind me, causing me to jump.
I spun around and met a pair of narrowed gray eyes, which not only seemed to study me, but also seemed to be criticizing me. “Blame rabies.”
“Normal dogs don’t run away that easily after being shot.” He held up a large rifle in one hand, the other messing with his shaggy mop of light brown hair. “Come on, Ellie, this detour has made us late,” he grabbed my wrist and yanked me forward, my head accidentally bumping into his shoulder.
I screamed and pulled away from him and tried to pry his fingers off of my arm. “What? No! Let go of me! Stop!”
He groaned and tightened his grasp. “You have the strength of a newborn kitten compared to me. Stop shouting, you’ll look crazy.”
I continued to fight and shout at the top of my lungs. “No, people will see that I’m being whisked away by some strange guy with a gun! Help, somebody! Let go of me!”
“People will see?” He threw his head back and laughed as he dragged me toward the dead end of the alley. “Nobody but you can see me. That’s why nobody helped you out with the Hell Hounds; they just thought you were some college kid tripping on LSD.”
“LET GO!” I kicked the back of his leg behind his knee, which startled him and made him loosen his grip enough in order for me to wiggle free. I ran away from him toward the street, my heart beating rapidly. I looked back to see how close he was to catching me, yet I ran straight into someone’s chest.
His hands grabbed me tightly by the shoulders. “We could have done this the easy way, Ellie. But you’re like your mother; completely stubborn.” He placed his fingertips against my forehead, and I slowly felt myself fade into unconsciousness.
Faith & Logan
Posted March 20, 2013
on:
She was everything I had wanted to be, and more. Her eyes shone with some sort of inner light and happiness. The light she gave off was beautiful, for lack of a better word. She was a captivating soul, and her gaze continued to hold me prisoner. I did not mind, though. And although I have credited myself with a wild imagination and a gift of exaggeration, I promise that all of these words are simply understatements.
Her name didn’t matter, nor did mine.
For the evening, we were simply two beings meshed into one with the sound of waves softly kissing the shore. She didn’t say much, and rarely talked about herself, yet I still felt as if I understood her.
“It’s strange, isn’t it?” She suggested as she lay back on the sand.
I could only nod as I struggled not to stare.
She seemed to know me well, though, and sensed that I wasn’t paying attention. “Liar,” she mused and nudged my hip with her red-painted toes.
I smiled sheepishly. “I’m sorry. I find that I get easily caught up in the sound of your voice and I forget to pay attention to your words.”
“I guess that qualifies as a compliment.”
I shoved my hands into the pockets of my flannel hoodie, my mind fumbling for words while my fingertips tugged at loose thread. “I would hope so; it was meant as one.”
“Aren’t you just a charmer?” She flashed a knee-weakening smile, and I felt grateful to have been sitting down. I shrugged and thought of lying down next to her, but my insecurities sank into my body and my mind like cement, which kept me still.
She’s a gorgeous creature, you dunce cap. You hardly deserve to be in her presence. Don’t be an idiot and try anything. Just try to sound at least somewhat intelligent.
“So, your name is—“
“Look!” She sat up and grabbed my upper arm as she pointed away from us with her free hand.
I looked around, trying to see what she saw. “What is it?”
She scooted closer to me, our hips and shoulders touching. I tried hard to ignore the shivers crawling up my spine, and told myself that I was just being extra sensitive, and that her body next to mine didn’t cause fireworks, or gastrointestinal butterflies like romantic films claim.
“Crabs are crawling out of the sand all over the place! Look at them!” She squealed, and a huge smile found its place on my lips. “Aw, they are so cute!”
She was the cute one, in my humble opinion, not the crustaceans that inhabited the beach. Regardless, I nodded in agreement. “Yes, I suppose they are.”
“They look like they’re trying to find each other. To reunite as friends, or lovers, or something.” She sighed, and I could sense a feeling of longing radiate from her. “What do you think?”
She looked up at me with her mesmerizing, doe-like hazel eyes, and I lost all ability to formulate coherent thoughts. However, I made an attempt to not sound like an idiotic fool.
“You’re pretty,” I blurted out.
Damn it, you’re a lost cause. Just go home and sink into your bed. Yep, the one with the sheets that have the periodic table of elements on them. Grab your towel and leave her alone. Forget about your dignity; it’s too far buried beneath the sand to be retrieved.
Her giggling only helped to mortify me even more. “You’re adorkable,” she whispered before brushing her lips against my cheek.
Her statement baffled me. Not only because I wasn’t entirely sure what “adorkable” meant, but I also wasn’t sure whether or not it was a good thing. “I’m sorry, what?”
“Adorkable. You know, you’re an adorable dork.”
Not as bad as being told you’re a loser with impossible hopes of capturing her attention, I thought.
I chuckled nervously, my nails digging into the fabric of my pockets. “Oh. Well, thanks.” I tried to play it off, and to be cool about it, although I was the polar opposite of cool at that point. My heart felt as if it had been stung by an electric eel, and I could no longer deny the existence of butterflies in my stomach.
“You like me,” she said, and I froze.
“I-I’m sorry, what?”
She giggled again, and I could feel blood rushing to my cheeks. “You like me. It’s okay, and it’s not a bad thing.” Before I could dispute her claim, she carried on. “You’re a science buff, a math man, and probably a left-brainer. I’m the opposite. I’m a right-brained, artistic, free-flowing person that runs on emotion. You’ve probably felt like kissing me this entire time, but haven’t because you’re stuck in your head and over-analyzing everything.”
I was baffled by this girl beside me. She was open, raw, and rare. While I, on the other hand, was reserved, skeptical, and critical.
“That’s highly presumptuous of you, don’t you think?” I tried to sound confident, but my voice was weak and shook terribly.
She shook her head and turned to face me. Her tiny hands took mine and held them gently. “Look me in the eye, Logan, and tell me that you feel nothing. Tell me, honestly, that you don’t have the urge to kiss me.”
My gaze dipped to her lips and lingered there for a few moments. Her lips were full and rosy, and looked incredibly soft. “I… I don’t,” I whispered as her hands reached to touch my cheeks.
“Liar,” she whispered back. She moved her lips and began to speak, but I captured her words with my mouth, and all of my thoughts vanished. I had kissed a handful of girls before her, yet the kisses lacked emotion and were completely robotic.
I wrapped my arms around her frame and my hands proceeded to get lost in her hair. Rational thought and reason flew out the window as our lips moved together. All I knew was that I was perfectly content with thought of spending the rest of my night kissing this intriguing and tempting girl named Faith. In a way that no made sense, I no longer felt the weight of the world and its many puzzling questions tugging on my shoulders.
Faith had a way of making me feel free.
“These memories keep haunting me,” she whispered, her arms wrapped tightly around her knees. “I can go a long time without thinking about it once, but when something triggers me strongly enough, it’s all over.”
He nodded as he took thoughtful notes on his legal pad. “Tell me about this trigger you had, Samantha.”
“There was an old guy, with a beard,” she rubbed her eyes as they began to fill with tears. “He had on a USMC hat, and a flannel jacket. It looked just like him, Dr. Schorr. I could’ve sworn… Some part of me thought it was him, and I wanted it to be. I’m always hoping he’ll be there in his chair, drinking coffee, and watching Nascar when I come home, but he’s never there.”
“Samantha, your dad died a year ago. He isn’t coming back, and it’s best that you realize this and move forward with the grieving process.”
She shook her head. “I can’t! I can’t grieve him or mourn him; that isn’t what he wanted! I can’t feel sad, and I’m told that I should just be happy that he was here for 18 years when some people don’t even have a dad for one, but I can’t help it! It’s like, seriously, I’m sorry that you never had a dad that was around for whatever reason, but I did, and just because you didn’t have one doesn’t mean that I’m not allowed to miss mine!” She stood up and pushed over the coffee table that was between their chairs. “I’m losing my mind! I feel like he just died yesterday, that he is still alive today, and that he never even existed all at once! I have this raw ache in my chest that I can’t fill back up. I don’t care about the whole God thing and Him supposedly being the only thing that can fill this hole in my chest, because it doesn’t work!
I don’t want God, I don’t want a fucking psychiatrist and mom up my ass 24/7, and I don’t want people saying ‘I’m sorry,’! I know you’re fucking sorry, but guess what, sorry doesn’t do anything! Do you know what I do want, doctor? I want my dad back. I want my dad, I want my damn father back, alive, well, happy, healthy, and I want him here to hug me and make us pancakes and bacon on Sunday morning, and I just want him back! I-I need him, I can’t keep living without my daddy…”
hot summer nights
Posted March 1, 2013
on:I haven’t had much experience, when it comes to physical intimacy. Sure, I’ve kissed maybe four guys, and made out with a few, but it was never quite… There. That spark wasn’t there, and those butterflies that I’m told I should feel were basically dead in the pit of my stomach. All I would think about when kissing these guys would be anything but them. I’d think about lunch, how I chipped my nail polish too much and needed to make plans to repaint them, etc. I wasn’t drawn to them in any way, shape, or form. But him?
He’s a different story. Whenever we kissed, the previously deceased butterflies were resurrected and fluttered through every vein in my body. It was like my mind was no longer in control of my actions, and I was simply running on this raw need and hunger to kiss him until we somehow melted into each other on those hot summer nights.
I never considered myself to be a particularly rebellious person. In fact, I always thought I was rather innocent. But with him, it’s going to be pretty hard to play by the rules.