kells' Stories

Afar

2008-10-08T03:33:33Z

She settled onto the familiar bench just by the entrance of the park, her second home these past few weeks. She pulled out her prop (her psych text), opening the book at random and setting it in her lap. Obviously, though, she didn’t get much reading done. She glanced towards the stretch of sidewalk she could see through the entrance gate, then the patch of pansies a few feet away from her, then down to her watch (it was 1:42).

Gate, pansies, the old woman hobbling by with her walker, gate, watch (1:43), gate, the kid picking his nose, textbook (not that she actually read any of it), watch (1:47), gate—

And there he was, as if on cue. The sun was clearly out to spite her, as the golden rays showed her a hint of red running through his gorgeous brown curls, and made his skin a delicious golden hue. His face shifted slightly – did he actually look her way today? She shifted, her arm reaching for the rest to pull herself up.

Maybe it was a trick of the light.

She could always try again tomorrow.

Chasing the Secret

2008-05-01T03:30:07Z

She raises her eyebrows, silently asking, Are you game?

Without a reply, she tugs at my hand, jerking my arm and tugging me along until I’m at a fast enough pace. It’s ridiculously quick considering the woodsy terrain, and every few seconds I’m stumbling over a gnarled root, whacking an elbow on a midnight-black, invisible trunk, or accumulating hairline scratches along my face – not that she does, of course.

Although our hands eventually slip apart, I manage to keep pace, driven both in part by dying to find out what she’s leading me to and by the fear of being left alone in these woods, no clue on how to get out. A faint sliver of moonlight reaches through the dense canopy, just enough to illuminate the sight of her looking over her shoulder, a wicked, up-to-no-good smirk on her face as she barrels ahead.

Just when my breathing becomes ragged and I wonder how much longer this is going to take, she halts, and I nearly knock her over. I manage to steady myself, though, and look to her for my next cue.

The King

2008-04-22T04:08:22Z

The king stretches lazily, arching his back and stretching his mouth into an impressive yawn that shows off all his glittering teeth. He blinks once, slowly, as if collecting his thoughts, then sets off.

He paces back and forth, languidly looking out at his realm and all the various inhabitants he can see from where he stands. He shakes his head, the long golden locks momentarily fanning around his head before settling back around his shoulders.

Apparently pleased with what he sees, the king settles back down in his favourite spot in the room that overlooks the nearby gardens.

One of the many women who cares for him entered, a smile on her face as she brings a large steak meal for him. He doesn’t know what it is, but something about her manner suddenly sets him off. With a flash, he’s at his feet, screaming (more like growling…) with rage. Her eyes go wide, and she stumbles back out.

Her eyes hardly notice the large Lion’s Den sign as she locks the iron gate behind her.

Well Isn't that Nice? {Challenge}

2008-04-22T03:26:28Z

Well, I know it’s taken ages to write this, but hey, what can I say? The semester is ending, and I’ve had my hands full. Anyway…

The first person who came to mind, and not just because he wrote about me first, is Tad Winslow: He always takes the time to read my ficlets, and always leaves such wonderful comments that really brighten my day. He once wrote me a message asking me to come back when I had been inactive for a few weeks, and it still makes me smile when I think about it; that someone on here cares about me that much. Shamefully, I never comment on his work as much as I should, and yet he’s always there for me. His work is also amazing, but I’ve taken up too much space as it is.

Another great author on here is Storykeeper of Fae: not only are her stories wonderful, but her comments on my works are always great, too!

I was trying to avoid all the ‘well-known’ authors such as Kermitgorf or THX 0477 (or Flute Faerie herself), but I can’t help myself. They always leave such great comments!

Vroom, Vroom.

2008-04-10T03:40:40Z

While it may not be as common as, say, the sharpie marks on the wall or a fluffy blue photo album, life can be measured in cars.

The soft pink bundle, cooing as he’s cradled in his mother’s arms, a white bracelet still fastened around his wrist.

A few years later, there’s the toy car at the playground. You know what I’m talking about, the one on the spring the size of your head, bouncing back and forth, the boy shrieking in delight.

Next comes the toy jeep, the tiny motor shooting him up and down the sidewalk, his hair dancing in the wind.

Then there’s the real deal. Suffering through driver’s ed, until he gets a shiny square license. He whips around corners at unfathomable speeds, lucky to avoid an accident.

Then he’s lounging in the backseat of one, giving one girl after another a look, then they tumble over, the car for once not being used for transportation.

Eventually comes the awful minivan, starting the cycle anew, as yet another blue-swaddled bundle is brought home.

Winter [JP's Smell Challenge]

2008-04-09T21:46:09Z

If you asked around, anyone would tell you that winter smells like nothing. Everything is dead, gone…nothing to smell. Snow is just glorified water, it has no scent.

But they’re wrong.

They forget about that smell you discover after you’ve been bundled up too long; the musty dampness collecting on your scarf, it smells of confinement, of protection.

They forget about that lack-of-a-smell after a fresh snowfall. It smells of clean, of freshness, of renewal. That sharp tang that burns your nose and throat, nature’s antiseptic after the craziness that summer leaves behind. It smells of newness, of purity.

They forget about that smell you discover when you come back inside. No, not the rich cocoa simmering on the stove, or the sweet cookies baking in the oven, but the smell of warmth. Of home. That rich, heavy smell that settles in your lungs, in your chest, letting you finally relax after a long day.

Yes, winter does have a smell. More subtle, yes, but definitely more poignant.

Lullaby

2008-04-09T21:10:41Z

[A random image that keeps popping into my mind from listening to the Hush Sound’s Goodbye Blues too much.]

Eyes closed, she smiles, feeling the slight rumble of his chest against her back. She loved the way they fit together like this; he sunken into the sofa, she curled up in his lap, two pieces of the puzzle interlocking. Her cheek against his heart, she hears the steady thump of it in one ear, and in the other she hears the soft melody of his voice, murmuring the familiar tune. Her lids flutter open as she struggles to stay awake, focusing on the soft lines of light that sneak in through the windowpane, painted a dusty golden rose in the fading sun. The soft melody makes her drowsy, but she always refuses to fall asleep, trying to savor the moment.

But she never can. She feels his rough fingertips absently running through her hair, and she snuggles closer to him, a soft sigh of contentment escaping through her lips. Her eyes shut once more, and she drifts off, the melody still sounding in her ears.

Leaving

2008-02-28T02:14:51Z

Ring…Ring…

“Hello?” I cradle the receiver on my shoulder, sorting through my suitcase for the umpteenth time.

“Hey Emmie…I was just calling to…to say goodbye,” I hear. There’s an odd tone to her greeting, but I can’t figure it out.

“Goodbye? I don’t leave until tomorrow,” I point out, “We were meeting up, remember?” My eyebrows pinch together in confusion.

“Not you, me,” she corrects, her voice going soft.

“What are you talking about? I thought you said you didn’t have any plan—-oh, God,” I breathe, as comprehension dawns. “Sarah, that isn’t funny, don’t joke like that,” I stammer, my heart slamming against my ribs.

“I..I don’t have much time left…I just wanted to say that you were my best friend, and I wouldn’t have made it this long without you. I love you, Emmie,” she continues, ignoring my pleas, her voice practically a whisper now.

“I swear to God, I’m going to kill you. This isn’t funny,” I repeat, my voice choking on both anger and tears. “I’m coming over there. Don’t hang up.”

Well now what?

2008-02-08T17:10:10Z

We ran out of gas ten miles from town, our rusty tin can of a car puttering to a stop on the dusty side of the road. The scene looked like some horrible movie stereotype. The horizon was made purely of reddish sand, dotted by a bush here and there. The road – just compacted dirt from road-trippers of the past – stretched on in either direction. With a sigh of exasperation, I looked over at Mark.

“You moron! I told you to fill up back there!” I cry, smacking him on the shoulder to emphasize my point.

“No, dude, that was your job! I got the snacks!” emphasizing his point by crunching down on a potato chip.

“I’m pretty sure that I was supposed to get the snacks…” I retort, glaring, my knuckles tight on the wheel so that I don’t hit him again.

“Chill out, man, I guess we’ll just have to walk and pick some up.” Shrug.

“Are you kidding? It’s like a million degrees out there!” I settle back in my seat, waiting for him to come up with a better idea – I’m certainly not going out in that wasteland.

....Must Come Down [2/2]

2008-02-05T03:11:06Z

I squat next to your spread-eagle body, biting back a smirk – you never could hold your booze. Pulling out a tube of rebellious violet lipstick, I unscrew the cap. Holding it like a pencil, I hover for a moment, thinking. But there isn’t a perfect way to say hey, I love you babe, but it’s just been too long – time to move on. C’est la vie and all that, is there? With a sigh, I go with something short and sweet.

It was fun while it was lasted. See ya ‘round. xoxo

You barely even stir as I smudge the lipstick along the inside of your forearm, the once-perfect point now a lumpy stump. In the back of my mind I knew it was inevitable, but at the same time, I never believed this day would come. Everyone knew I have the attention span of a gnat when it comes to anything remotely significant, but we amazed them all, sticking together for so long. They were beginning to joke that we were practically ready to say ‘till death do us part.’ But I guess I just wasn’t as strong as everyone thought.

Sorry, love.

What goes up... [1/2]

2008-02-05T03:09:34Z

[Loosely inspired by Fall Out Boy’s Bang the Doldrums.]

We sit in the backseat of the taxicab, giggling and euphoric, as New York City flashes by in bursts of bright colors, groups of people, and tall buildings; the rest is midnight black. The cabbie frowns disapprovingly as we stick nearly half our bodies out the windows, screaming and laughing as we drive downtown, the wind whipping the hair around our faces. Decked out in prom gear, we were far too overdressed to be driving in a taxi, but that was what made it fun. After all, it wasn’t a date, we told ourselves. We were just going as friends, we reminded everyone. But look how long that lasted…

My throat tightens as the memory replays itself in my mind, and I’m just thankful that the pulsating light hides my flicker of emotion from the rest of the partygoers. Best friends, ex friends, lovers…we’ve gone through a lot, haven’t we?

My Other Half

2008-02-04T21:28:03Z

As we stare at each other’s faces side by side in the mirror, giggling over our latest escapade, I’m struck with a sudden realization. I think I’ve found my soulmate. I’ve known her since we were in single digit ages, and many people treat us like we’re sisters. I know her better than my sister, to be honest. I know her better than anyone else; better than myself. She was the first one I told when I had my first love, the only one I told when I lost my virginity. I’m the only one that knows about her sneaking out of her house, or that she’s tried pot, and not just once.

Everyone says that your lover is supposed to be your soulmate, but who says that has to be true? I have a feeling she will complete me more than any lover will.

'Normal Is So YESTERDAY!'s Time Challenge!

2008-02-03T02:33:29Z

You want to know why people have such a hard time of coming up with the definition of “time” in the first place?

Because there isn’t one.

Cats and worms and trees and starfish don’t worry about years or hours or weeks or minutes…have you noticed that? Humans are the only ones that have watches and calendars. We came up with a sense of time (even if only vaguely defined) to further feed that sense of purpose that we all strive for. We wouldn’t be happy to just exist, without any sense of moving forward. The human race is all about progress – going further, being better, evolving. It’s just another tool to measure our accomplishments: the quickest, the fastest, the longest.

Yeah, sure, you may argue we need time to keep appointments and that sort of thing, but in case you haven’t noticed, there are quite a few societies around the world living without our rigid time structure. Although, I suppose, if purpose is one aspect that humans love, another would be precision.

Who needs time?

Trapped

2008-02-01T17:13:36Z

Marie always had a love-hate relationship with the zoo. While she loved to go see all the wonderful creatures that the menagerie had on display, she couldn’t help but feel sorry for the creatures, too. People would argue that they’re just stupid beasts, and that they don’t know any better, but Marie knew otherwise. Deep below their acts, she could tell that all the animals were looking for…something else. They may not remember the savannah, or the open ocean, but they also knew that this wasn’t right.

The exhibit that hurt her the most was the dolphin pool. Their faces were sculpted with a permanant grin, but even as that grin held firmly intact, she could see the sadness in their eyes. Marie’s heart ached for the dolphins, knowing there was nothing she could do for these lovely animals. So, instead, she would stare for hours at her marine friends, hand pressed against the thick glass, trying to convey her sympathy and hoping they could feel her sadness, too.

Advantages

2008-01-21T05:27:03Z

There’s nothing better than leather pants. Not even money, when you think about it. Worn by the right person, they don’t even need to bring a wallet…

She waited in line, looking properly upset when asked for the cover fee. She pouted, smiled, and used her…feminine charms until the bouncer suddenly felt that she didn’t need to pay up. Flashing a smirk she ducked in the doorframe.

She settled on a stool, leaning forward just enough to give the guys an eyeful of smooth black leather. Like magic, she was soon bombarded with complimentary drinks, the bartender dutifully pointing out each man that sent a cocktail. In turn, she’d give them a seductive grin, just enough to give him hope – and to get herself yet another drink.

The night went on in this fashion; not spending a dime, only dancing with a few of the cuter guys, letting them earn more than just a look. Thoroughly pleased with herself at the end of the night, she piled into a taxi (paid for, of course, by yet another club guy), reflecting on her