Short Stories

I go to a person every Tuesday night, and she sets me lots of story lines, and I have to create a story to go with the line she gives me. They can be however long I like, sometimes, she gives me objects to describe, and maybe create a story with them in, or I get homework - but it's homework I enjoy. And in this Movella are the short stories I create. Comment your favourite - if you want, I'll try and make an actual story from it :)xoxo

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9. 2000 words story.

 

 

   The box was painted gold, that was the only thing she requested for after she’d died. She

didn’t want a massive send off, but that was the only way I could think of to give her the

goodbye she’d earnt. When I found out she’d got pancreas cancer, I locked myself away in my

room and pushed everyone out of my life. The stress was too big for me to handle, so it took a

lot for me to be here today. To say goodbye.

   “Trish, you have to stand up. They’re bringing in the coffin.” I looked up through my tear

stained eye lashes at my elder brother, Ethan. I immediately followed his instructions, and

stood. Refusing to look at the coffin that was gradually making its way down to the front of the

hall.

   “We are gathered here today, to mourn the loss of the 12 year old girl, Lacey Turnball…”

   I knew she wouldn’t want me to cry, to long for her to hold my hand and tell me everything

would be alright, but the tears fell from my eyes like a tsunami. It wasn’t just me though, as

the more lines the priest said, the more people started to cry. I’m surprised there wasn’t an

actual tsunami slowly forming within the hall.

   I looked around at all of the people here, mostly people from school – she was a popular kid

in her year (grade 6). I didn’t know half of the people she did, as I was a senior (grade 11). I

know, it’s kinda sad that my best friend was 5 years younger than me, but it didn’t bother us.

And now, I’m going to keep aging, whereas she won’t. That’s something most people don’t

understand about us, about why we bothered staying best friends for 7 years with that much

of an age gap.

   As I’d finished scanning the room, I noticed that the priest had stopped talking, and now it

was Lacey’s dad, Steve. He was a chubby bloke, but he was a laugh. This day, however, he

didn’t make a single joke, which is what everyone respected about him. He knew the right and

wrong time for joking around.

   “So Lace, if you’re up there, and watching us right now…I want you to know how much we

ALL love you. Rest in peace.” At this point he was bawling his eyes out like the rest of us.

   “Patricia Leary, I believe you have a poem you’d like to say?” That was my name. But I

couldn’t go up there in front of all of these people, there must have been thousands. Ok, so,

not really thousands, but a LOT. I just couldn’t do it. So I had the choice between humiliation

and shame, or doing the respectful thing and making Lacey proud. As usual, I chose the

humiliation option, and ran out of the door, wiping my eyes. As I burst through the door I

heard sighs from the people in the hall, but I didn’t care to be honest, I just wanted to get out

of there. Fast.

   The sunlight hurt my eyes, as all around me inside the hall was black, black and more black.

The only light let in was from the tiny windows at the back of the hall.

   I had no idea where I was, but I ran and ran, until I couldn’t breathe anymore, and had no

choice but to stop. I collapsed onto the floor beneath me as my legs gave way, and cried as if

there’d be no tomorrow.

   I must have fallen asleep because when I opened my eyes, it was pitch black outside. It

looked just like the hall…the funeral! They must have finished hours ago…and I wasn’t there

to say goodbye. Trust me, I’ve always been unreliable, and I promised myself that just this

once, maybe I’d do something right. I couldn’t even do that it turns out.

   I remembered I’d put my phone and make-up bag in my handbag that morning, knowing

that I’d need to reapply my mascara from all of the crying. I wasn’t wrong. I looked into my

compact mirror, and shined my phone light onto it. I looked like a panda, literally. My

eyeliner and mascara had created circles around my eyes, and my foundation had rubbed off.

The only thing that was as it should be, was my eyeshadow, since its waterproof. I’m an idiot

for not buying waterproof mascara, knowing this day was coming.

   I decided I couldn’t be bothered to do anything about it, so I turned to my phone and looked

at the time. It was 12:30…pm obviously. Dang it! I was gonna be so dead when I got home.

That was, if I didn’t die out here on the rough streets of Florida. Well, at least either way, I’d

end up with Lacey again, with a whole load more everlasting memories to create and share

with her in the afterlife. If there’s such thing as that.

   I decided it was time I should be getting home, whether something bad happened to me on

my way there or not. I had to do it sometime. And it was starting to get cold outside so I

decided it was now or die from coldness.

    I’d taken no more than 20 steps before I came across a man who was perched on the

doorstep of a nearby shop. I walked over to him.

   “Hey, are you alright?” I reached my hand out to touch his shoulder, but as he looked up and

saw my hand reaching out towards him, his body shifted as far back as it could, so I paused

and brought my hand back to my body. “Hey, I’m not gonna hurt you, ok?”

   The man nodded his head as I carried on, “Here, you can have this…” I gave him $10; it was

all I had in my purse. I felt sorry for the man, because I’d just slept on the floor for a couple of

hours and already I was freezing cold and my body ached from the bruises that were forming.

   The man smiled, and nodded his head, showing he was grateful. He bent his head

downwards, and fell asleep, so I walked away. I smiled at how unselfish I’d just been, how

unlike me it was. Maybe, as tragic as it sounds, maybe Lacey’s death was somehow a good

thing, as it had made me realise a lot, and by that, I meant it had definitely turned my life

around.

   I arrived home about 10 minutes after that, and as soon as I stepped inside the house, my

smile faded. I knew something was about to happen. I could just tell that something was

wrong. It was too quiet. I thought maybe it was because my parents were asleep or something,

so I went to the fridge and got out a soda. At least I could end the day with a bit of happiness

because the rest of the day obviously hadn’t done that. I opened it, tapping the top 4 times to

stop it from spraying everywhere first of course, and walked into the lounge to watch some TV

while drinking it. Serious multi-tasking was about to take place, when I halted at the door I’d

just opened to enter the lounge.

   There were 2 people in there with my mom and dad; they were dressed in black uniform,

with a gun tied to both of their left hips.  Police.

   “Anyone wanna tell me what’s going on in here?” I was speaking with an attitude by

accident, but I was seriously freaking out.

   “Ma’am, Sir, is this your daughter?”

   “Yes! It is! Oh, hunny, I’m-We’re so glad you’re home!” My mom got up and hugged me.

   “Of course I’m home, mom…I live here too ya’no…”

   “We thought-”

   “Anne, don’t. Shes here now,” my dad said to my mom, then he turned to the police and

said, “Sorry for wasting your time, officers. I’ll see you out.”

   “Ok, well if this happens again, just know that we’ll have to keep your daughters

whereabouts in our database back at HQ. Just, call us if it happens again.”

   “Thank you, officers.” My mom and dad nodded in their direction, then the police nodded

back, seriously…what’s with all the nodding. I joint in too, I felt left out.

    “What in tarnation where you thinking, running off like that?! Do you realise how

embarrassing that is?! No, because you’re so self-center-” My dad shouted at me, until my

mom interrupted him,

    “Gerald! Stop! You can’t really blame her! She’s just lost her best friend for Christ sake!

Have some sympathy!”

   “Thanks mom, go to hell dad.” I slammed the door behind me and stomped upstairs like the

5 year old I am, and slammed my bedroom door as well. I could hear my dad going off at my

mom about how disrespectful I am and how she shouldn’t have stuck up for me the way she

did, so I threw the pillow I was hugging and crying into at my bedroom door and went to sleep

in my bed.

   “Wake up, Trish. You have school in…20 minutes.” My mom called from behind my

bedroom door.

   “Go away!” I screamed back.

   “Look, hunny” she said, entering my bedroom and perching awkwardly on the edge of my

bed. “Do you want the day off school? I know how much you must be grieving for Lacey. She

was such a lovely chil-”

    “MOM! I don’t wanna hear it! Just leave. Me. Alone! OK?” I instantly regretted yelling at my

mom, but it worked. It got her out of my room, and me a day off of school. But she was right, I

was mourning Lacey’s death, and I knew that if I went to school today I’d just end up sitting

in one of the toilet stalls crying, then I’d be made fun of for having panda eyes. Then I

remembered about the homeless guy I’d helped a little last night, I smiled a little. Then my

dad came into my room.

   “Get up for school now, you useless piece of-”

   “Gerald. Get out of her room. I won’t tell you again. Shes got the day off of school, I just

called them and told her shes not going in today, so leave her be.”

   He gave me one last warning look before exiting my room. I cried into my pillow again, and

stayed like that until lunchtime, when I got hungry.

   “Mum! MUM! I’m hungry! Get me som-” I was astounded at what I saw before me, when I

pushed open the kitchen door. “Mum? Mum?! No, no…not again…”

   My mum was laid down on the floor, lying on her back. I was whimpering the word mum

over and over again, she couldn’t be…no, she just couldn’t. I brushed her hair away from her

face, and I saw blood pouring out of her mouth.

   “NO!” I screamed at the top of my lungs, over and over again.

   I looked down, expecting the worst, so I wasn’t surprised to see a knife stuck into her heart.

It was the knife she used to chop the vegetables, the one actually, that she used yesterday for

the roast dinner they had when I was outside, giving money to homeless people.

   Suddenly, an adrenaline rush forced me to throw everything out of the fridge, and the broom

out the window. I didn’t know what was doing through my mind. I just needed to destroy

everything. I took the knife out of my mum’s corpse, and rolled my jumper’s sleeve upwards. I

made at least 5 long, deep cuts into my skin. I knew it was crazy, and that I’d regret it, but

after I’d done it, I curled up into a ball, got the bleach out of the cupboard, and drank it

straight out of the bottle, knowing that there was nothing anybody could to do save me.

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