My Collection of Short Stories and Poems

So, I don't just write novels. I write short stories and Poetry as well.
I gathered them up for you all and that is what this new Movella is for. To have all my short stories and poetry all on one place.
Enjoy!
Tell me which are your favorite and I will make sure to write more like those.
Thank you! :)

3Likes
0Comments
1784Views
AA

1. Reflection (Short Story)

 

She stands in front of the full length mirror that hasn’t been used in weeks and just stands there, taking the sight in.

Who is this person, she thinks to herself as she caresses the pieces of clothing that drapes her body. Expensive fabrics, diamond studded buttons, and a small string of pearls around her slender neck enclose her, making her feel trapped in a world that she doesn’t belong in.

“Who is this person?” She repeats, this time aloud. The room is silent and she just stands there trying to find herself in the completely different person that reflects back at her. It’s still her, of course. She is still there. She just needs to find that person. She still remembers that person very well. That person used to be so happy and full of life, but one day changed everything. She can remember every detail as if it had just happened a couple of minutes ago.

 

Honey, you’re shaking the whole building.” I know she is just exaggerating when she says this but by the way I see my legs bouncing up and down, I might as well be. I try to stop the many movements that my body makes but I just cannot seem to stop the fidgeting. Maybe it’s because I’m nervous? I’m not nervous for my life, but for what might happen next. Once that doctor walks through those sterile white doors I am going to have to make my decision. I don’t know what I want to do, but I do know that if I choose wrongly then it could result in death. Mother promised me that she wouldn’t do anything more than just be there for me to hold my hand when I get scared. But I am only seventeen. I am not even a full adult, and I am already making these adult decisions.

I start to notice the faint tapping of footsteps that echo from behind the double doors standing a few feet away from me. The footsteps are getting louder. The louder they get the closer I know they are. The footsteps stop before the doors and I can tell that the person hesitates before entering by the way the lingering shadows along the ground disappear and then reappear suddenly as if they left and changed their mind again. The doors are pushed open.

Hello my favorite patient,” This is his own special way of trying to make me feel important and different from all those other people in the hospital that he has to go see when, really, I know we are all the same. To him we all have done something that we truly regret. Now we are all sitting somewhere in this building. Now we are coming to him, my doctor, for help when he may not even have the answers we are looking for.

All I can seem to say is, “You say that to all of your patients.” I try to sound like I am kidding when I say this, but I can tell that by the hurt expression Mother gives me that I said it with anger. I don’t care. She can give me all the looks she wants, but that won’t change how I am currently feeling. I’m furious. Not with my doctor for saying the same thing every time I see him. Not with my mother for caring just a little too much. I am truly grateful they are both here with me at this moment. I am angry with myself. I’m angry because of how I got to where I am right now. I was stupid to think that he actually cared about me. I stop myself from thinking anymore about it by standing up from my seat. Mother and Doctor look up at me as if I were crazy, but I stand where I am and slowly make my way towards the water cooler with both set of eyes glued to my back.

So?” Mother says after a full minute of silence, curiosity itching inside her.

Right, so I do have some news for the two of you…” This worries me deeply. So many things run through my thoughts at such a fast pace that I don’t even try to process it all. I just stand facing the water cooler, my back facing them, and I watch the tiny air bubbles float up from the bottom of the jug up towards the ceiling. As if trying to escape.

What’s wrong with her?” She makes it sound like I am a mutant or something, but I push the comment aside and try not to let it get the best of me; she just wants answers.

The doctor lets out a heavy sigh and I already know what he is going to say before he even says a word about it. All the signs were there; I guess I just got so caught up in my worries that I never pieced it all together. I haven’t had my period since Christmas, and that was months ago. I’m always eating food, day and night. And then there is the unspeakable. My mistake. I had sex. At the time it was amazing and the most pleasurable moment of my existence, but ever since that day I have regretted every second of it. All I seem to do these days is sit around and mope about how horribly wrong what I did was. Most people would have said how they felt, but not me. That’s not my style. I don’t want all those I care about most to care for me at all. Their first priority should be themselves, but no matter how many times I say this, they always reject my offer without question.

I zone back into reality to hear the somewhat distant voice of Doctor saying my name repeatedly.

Taylor, Taylor…” Doctor is lightly shaking my shoulders in attempt to get my attention without upsetting me.

I’m sorry. What were you saying?” I politely push his hands off my shoulder and walk back over to my seat next to Mother.

He said you’re pregnant, Sweetie.” She places her hands on my knees in reassurance, but I push them away. I don’t want people touching me right now. That is about the last thing that I want.

How long?” I want to take back the question right after asking it, but I realize that it’s too late for that because he is already answering.

You’re about four months along.” That sound about right. I haven’t seen, or talked even, to John since that night at his house. But I don’t care. All I need to care about now is his well-being, or hers. I don’t know the gender and I don’t want to know. The thought of this makes me want to touch my belly, and soon I am lounged back in my very comfortable chair rubbing my belly in a circular motion.

But she… they are going to be ok, right?” I look up into the doctors blue eyes and I see something. I can’t put my finger on it, but there is something in his eyes that makes him hesitate with his answer.

Yes, she is going to be fine.” He is lying; this I can tell. I’ve been to the doctors before. I know how their minds work. When doctors lie, they tend to look you straight in the eyes as if they really believe that they are actually hiding the truth. But what they are really doing is just lying to your face so they don’t have to hear the shrieks of worry from the mothers nearby. There is a silence that fills the room, and I feel as if I should say something here, but nothing comes out. It’s as if there is someone standing over me, covering my mouth, preventing me from breathing. I feel as if my face is turning red and I want to go refresh myself with some chilling, night air, but it’s as if something binds my feet as well.

So what do we do now?” I look over at Mother to Doctor and back, repeatedly, waiting for my answer, but the room is still silent.

 

She tugs at the puffy sleeves. She pulls at the pearl necklace around her neck. She does anything she can in the small attempt to find that little girl inside that she once knew so well. And then she found it, the one thing that sets her apart from all those other people that seem to be robots, who perform to her every wish without question.

She lifts up her shirt to reveal to the world her scar that cuts deep across her stomach. She becomes overwhelmed with the memory. The room fills with darkness before changing to scenes back to the day when it all happened.

 

I am almost there. I’m almost at nine months. I should be happy, right? Happy that it is almost over, but a small part of me feels as if something is wrong here. I push the thought out of my mind to prevent thinking the worst possible scenario, like I usually do, and walk into the kitchen to find mother cooking dinner. I set the journal I was holding onto the counter and peek at Mother to see what is cooking atop the stove before burying my face back into the filled pages of my journal. I see green beans and black eyed peas, my favorites, along with some chicken still sizzling away on the plate that it all sits on. I sit down in a chair that puts me up at the counter in a good spot to watch my mother cook away. I open my journal to the next empty page and begin writing away only to hear the sound of Mother’s voice asking me something about the food.

Would you like some black eyed peas?” She asks me.

No, I’m ok for now.” I say after contemplating my answer in my head.

Are you sure?”

I don’t want any,” Is my last reply, and soon I am writing in my journal, trying to recall all that I want to say before I forget it all.

  “I had a dream last night,” I start writing out, “I don’t know what to think of it, but it was kind of peaceful, really.  I was sitting on a beach in California, the one place I want to go I might add, and I was sitting in the soft, exfoliating sand that still massages my feet right this second and the sun’s rays were soaking into my tan skin. I wish I were there right now. Not pregnant. Not having a baby, but just relaxing and enjoying life. I have made a promise to myself actually. After this is all over I will take my little bundle of joy, and we will go to this place in my dream and just enjoy every second we have together, just the two of us. Anyways, in the dream, I was sitting there in the sand and suddenly a figure walks up to the shore line and just stands there and looks out at the water. I tried to adjust my eyes to see who it was, but I couldn’t see a face, or a body for that matter. It was just an outline of the human body standing nonchalant by the sea. I stood up to try and get closer to the figure, but the closer I tried to get the father away the figure seemed. ‘Everything is going to be ok.’ The figure said,” I turn the page to see that it is my last and continue writing, “What the figure meant, I have no idea, and when I asked what was meant by it, I never got an answer. The figure just stood there and stared out at the sea, not moving. Then there was one of those silences that say a thousand different things at one time. I wanted to know what was meant and the figure was probably wondering if it said all it needed to say. Then in the midst of the silence, there is a distant noise. I turn to see the source of the noise only to find a flock of birds relaxing on the beach all clumped together. I can’t recall what kind of birds they are, but they were beautiful, so many colors in all in one place that it mesmerized me. ‘Don’t worry. Everything is going to be all right. Don’t worry.’ They voice says again, and at that all the birds that were once behind us gazing are now flying high over our heads, and we both just stand there and watch as they disappear into the distance.” I finish at the bottom of the last page and close my journal, feeling more open and free now that I have completed the entry.

I love you, Mommy.” I don’t know why said this or how it even got to saying it, but it just felt right. It felt like the right time.

“Well, I love you too, sweetie.” She look surprised at my statement, but I stand up from my seat, walk around the counter, and we merge into a hug. I don’t want to let go. I feel so safe. In the midst of our long hug, I feel something. A sharp pain in my side emerges and all I can do is flinch, pushing my body in a downward motion. It goes away after a couple of long seconds, but is soon followed by another. This time the pain is a bit worse.

Ouch!” I let out. “That really hurts!” The pain is unbearable now, and I’m on my knees, slowly falling to the floor in agony.

I lie on the floor now, pulling my arms and legs closer and closer around my stomach, as if it will make the pain go away. I can’t seem to say anything, and all  I do is scream. Mother is nowhere in sight. I feel so alone while I just lie in the middle of the kitchen floor and scream my lungs out. Where did Mother go? She can’t leave at a time like this. What if the sight of me was just too horrible to watch, so she just left?

I called your doctor and told him to meet us at the hospital, but we’ve got to leave right this second. Do you think you can make it to the car?” Mother sort of yells this at me as I try my hardest to get back up onto my feet. The pain makes this task difficult. I wait for the pain to subside long enough for me to get to my feet, but when I get to my knees the pain comes back, and I am back where I was on the floor. Is birth really this difficult? The worst part shouldn’t come until I’m at the hospital, right? So, why does this hurt so much? It’s hard for me to talk between screams, but I finally get something out.

It hurts too much! I don’t think I can make it to the car!” The pain kicks in again, and I let out a loud scream that will probably be heard by the neighbors across the street. I faintly feel drops of water drip onto my shoulder and look up to find it is Mother crying, her tears falling on my body. She’s on the phone talking to someone, but the words don’t process in my mind, and I have no idea what she is saying. Hopefully it’s the hospital, or 9-1-1, or my doctor, or at least someone helpful right now.

Everything after that is a blur. I remember flashing lights of crimson red and royal blue. I remember the faint voice of medics telling me that everything was going to be all right. I remember Mother’s face with me the whole time. But most of all what I remember last is thinking of him. Thinking of why he never bothered to check up on me, or see how the baby was doing, or even at least break up with me. We are technically still together. We are still, technically, a couple, but he still hasn’t had the courage to come and see me. Why? Is he still afraid of our future? Of his future? I would have at least liked to have seen his face once, that face that used to make me feel safe. Guess that is not going to happen now is it?

Don’t worry. Everything is going to be all right. Don’t worry.” My mother says to me. The last thing I remember is the front door opening to a bright, blinding light which overwhelms me, and I pass out.

 

 

She hasn’t cried since that first minute of waking up and finding out what had happened, but here she is. She stands in front of the mirror of her room, her face streaked with tears that run all the way down her cheeks and neck. She wipes the misplaced make up and tears off her face and tries to make herself look at least half way decent for the upcoming event awaiting her down stairs.  There is a faint, hesitant knock at her bedroom door; it’s Mother.

“It’s time, sweetie,” Mother whispers, just loud enough for her to hear, through crack in the door. Mother steps in the room and closes the doors behind her, “I brought you this.” Mother reaches out to her and holds a little pamphlet in her tiny fingers. It has a face on it along with a name and dates. It’s beautiful. It’s just how she wanted it to look. Her mother knows she won’t say anything about this gesture. She hasn’t talked much since, but she says that it’s ok because that is a way that people mourn sometimes in life, so she just lets her be.

“She would have been two months old today,” Is all she can say. She is surprised that she even says anything at all. She didn’t mean to say anything, it just came out.  She goes to leave, and she hit something, letting it fall to the floor. It’s the journal. It’s the book filled with the thoughts and dreams and events of her pregnancy. It’s the book that is filled from beginning to end. She picks the book back up off the floor and gently sets it down on the desk where it was originally sitting.

“Don’t worry. Everything is going to be ok. Don’t worry.” The voice from her dream says in her head.

She smooth’s out her black dress one more time before making her way downstairs to say her last good-bye, to say the words that she has wanted to say to her lost child ever since she found out she was having a little girl that one fateful day at the hospital. So many thoughts run through her mind. She thinks about that day. She thinks about him. She thinks about all the little stuff that they would have done together: first day of school, first boyfriend, first bike ride, and all those little firsts that she will never have a chance to have.

Because she is gone, too.

Forever.  

Join MovellasFind out what all the buzz is about. Join now to start sharing your creativity and passion
Loading ...