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.
Tell me which are your favorite and I will make sure to write more like those.
Thank you! :)


2. Cancer Sucks: True Story (Essay)

“Samantha, could you please come here for a minute? We need to talk.” Mom’s gentle voice echoes down the hallway and rings into my ears. Mom and Dad both stand in the kitchen, holding each other closely with grief stricken eyes, matching colors that catch complexions of the deepest ocean. My first thought is, who died, but I know not to speak this out loud. This is neither the time nor place for jokes. I am hesitant whether to walk in and sit down with them or not, but I reluctantly walk into the kitchen and sit down next to my brother who looks scared.

“What’s wrong?” These are the only words that I can force out of my mouth at that moment. I see tears roll down Mom’s rosy red cheeks. There is defiantly something wrong here, but nothing ever happens to us, so I really don’t have much to worry about. Right.

I don’t know what to think hesitantly I walk over to the kitchen table and quietly sit down. Mom can’t speak and gives Dad a look that screams tell-them-for-me. I can tell that he doesn’t want to, but in his mind, he knows that it is all up to him.

“Well, there really is no easy way to say this.” He stops talking. I can see that he tries to speak but nothing is coming out; he is speechless.

“Just spit it out!” My brother blurts out after three minutes of daunting silence.

“I have cancer.” She stutters through the words, bursting into tears. I don’t know what to say, or what to feel. I feel the atmosphere around me getting hotter and hotter. The distressing mood was too overwhelming for my heart to handle, and I feel as if I may faint. Holding back tears is hard for me to accomplish. I can feel them form in my eyes and gradually roll down my face. The room fills with a silence that rings in my ears.

 The days go by, and things just seem to get worse. There is nothing that I can do but hope. Nothing I do seems to make things better. I have tried cooking every day of the week, keeping the house clean, feeding Mom her pills, and cleaning up her vomit. Nothing helps.

Hope seems to be the only thing that matters.

 “Ok, you ready.” I hear Dad’s voice call out one day from the nearest bathroom down the hall, followed by the sound of a shaver starting up. Ready for what? Mom lets out a sigh and walks away.

“Wait? Where are you going? What are you ready for?” Mom stops where she is and looks over her left shoulder. A tiny tear glistens over her cheek.

“Just come with me.” She starts walking again, and I follow. Dad stands alone and shaking in the bathroom. He guides me over to the side. Mom stands in front of the big mirror. She looks scared and alone, thinking why this had to happen to her. I feel the tears roll down my cheeks. I know what is about to happen. My mom is about to do something that she doesn’t want to have to do. She has to do something that no woman should have to endure. Mom takes one last look into the mirror and turns around. I cover my mouth and burst into tears for what is about to happen. Dad starts shaving. All I can do is sit there and watch all my mom’s hopes and dreams float away from us, never to be seen again.

He is done. Her eyes say a million things all at one time. They say why me, but also this is for the better; they say why did I have to shave my head, but also this won’t be that bad. Maybe things will get better from here. I run over to my mom and give her a big hug that lasts for what seems to be hours.

“Everything is going to be all right.” I look up into her aqua blue eyes and see a glimpse of happiness and hope.  

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