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! :)


8. Cheating Isn't a Mistake, It's a Choice: True Story (Short Story)

“What we did was wrong.” I hear Kyle’s raspy voice say through the phone line as I lay in my bed at three in the morning. We did something bad, horrible even, and there is no taking it back because it has already happened. But that doesn’t mean that this won’t go away without consequence. What was I thinking? I knew that he had a girlfriend, and we still did it anyways, without even thinking about the long term effect.

“Yes. Yes it was,” is all I can get out my mouth without throwing up anything other than actual words.

“Well, what do we do?”

“I think you should tell her.”

“What!? Why me?” He says, a bit taken aback by my response. I can hear movement through the other line of the phone as if he is pacing back and forth in his room.

“She’s your girlfriend!” I say in reply to his question. He lets out a sigh of despair and I hear springs as he plops back onto his bed to think.

“Wait, what about everything else that we did? You don’t think that any of that was wrong at all?”


“Not even a little bit?”

“No. Why? Am I supposed to?” How could he think such a thing? Everything we have done in the past couple of months have been totally, and completely wrong, without question, and he has the audacity to think that it was all ok? I don’t think so. I keep asking myself why we even started this in the first place and my mind always goes blank. I think of all the consequences and all of the bad that we did, but I always end up going back to the good because it was all worth it in the end. All the phone calls. Text messages. E-mails. It makes me wonder if he talks to her as much as he talks to me, but I doubt it.

“Yes! So I suppose that you told her about all of this?”

“Fuck no!” He says, wondering why I would even ask such a silly question.

“That’s what I thought…”

“Hypocrite.” Did he really just call me that? Maybe I heard him wrong. Maybe he said something totally random, to himself, and didn’t just call me what I think he did.

“What?” I am hesitant whether to say this or not, thinking the worst, but I eventually do, and in the end it was what it was exactly what I was thinking and everything starts to go downhill.

“I said you’re a hypocrite!”

“How am I a hypocrite? I was only trying to get you to realize that what we are doing is wrong. We should have stopped this at the beginning, before it got this seri-” He stops me right then and there, before I get the chance to say what I have been trying to get out for a long while now.

“You knew that it was wrong! You knew this whole time and you didn’t even stop! You just kept it going and going until it was too late! And guess what! Now it is too late! There is no stopping it now!” I feel as if I am about to cry, and soon my feelings are confirmed when tears start to roll down my cheeks and onto my pillow that I am now holding as close as possible. Is he really blaming this all on me? Really? I mean, it’s not like I could have done this all on my own. He’s just nervous. Or scared, maybe regretting everything that he has done in his life. There is a silence that fills the line and rings in my ears, making the room uncomfortable.

“Are you really blaming this all on me?” For a second, I start to think that he hung up, but after a minute or so he answers.

“Just don’t talk to me anymore.” The words hit me in the chest area making it harder to breath at a normal rate.

“You don’t mean that.” Part of me doesn’t believe what I am saying. It’s a little voice that rings in my thoughts. It’s so real and I almost look up from my pillow to see who it is.

“Just don’t.” By now my face and pillow are both soaked with tears and I curl up into a little ball, hugging my arms around my chest and try to hug the pain away. But it’s not working. The pain is still there. I can’t just stop talking to him. He’s my everything. He’s the bubble to my chewing gum. He’s the music to my iPod. He’s the sugar in my iced tea. He’s the foundation to my life. Without him, I am nothing. Without him, I cannot live.

He still sits on the other line though. What do I say?

“Kyle,” My sobs prevent me from speaking, but I try my best to get a decent sentence out that could, hopefully, save our forbidden relationship; my mind goes blank.

“Just stop!” His voice echoes into my ears with anger and I flinch a little. Why does he not hang up? Why is he just sitting on the other line? I want to say everything I feel, but something is stopping me from doing so. A pain in my chest hits me; it’s the feeling of guilt. I feel guilt for all that we have done that will eventually ruin his current relationship. I think back to how she will probably feel when, rather if, she ever finds out about our secret relationship. She just sits in French class, not having a worry in the world, thinking that everything is going to be ok when it obviously is not. What will happen to them once she finds out? What will happen to us? I don’t even want to think of the possible answers to those questions, but I have to know that they will come true very soon. I’m going to lose him forever; I just know I am. I can’t imagine my life without him. I hear his beautiful voice again, so quiet that I almost have to strain to hear what he says.

“Just…. I can’t do this anymore.” I can hear heavy breathing as if he is trying to hold back the tears. My heart is completely dead now.

“You don’t mean that.” I know this isn’t true, but there is a small glimmer of hope inside me hoping that it is.

“Yes, I do! Otherwise I wouldn’t have said it.” That awful pain is back. It’s not just in my chest this time but fills my whole body. My heart. My neck. My fingers. My toes. My head. My everywhere.

He doesn’t mean it! He can’t. After all the special times that we have had together, all the secrets we shared, he can’t just toss them away to the fireplace like they never happened. This is it! This is going to be our last conversation. It’s the last time I am going to hear his wonderful voice that used to put me to sleep. It’s the last time he will ever say good night to me because this is our last phone call. I don’t want him to hang up! I don’t want him to go just yet. I want him to stay on the line just a little longer, hoping that he would, might, change his mind, but soon all I hear is the “call-ended” tone telling me that he is gone forever. I will never be his special secret ever again.

I smother myself in all my blankets and pillows and stuffed animals, wishing that they were his arms to keep me safe through the long night ahead. The next couple of hours go by in what seems like eternities. I can’t sleep now and all I do the rest of the morning is lie in bed until my alarm clock rings telling me that I have to go to school, the place where I will see him with her. I can just see it now. They will hold hands in the hallways and lock fingers in the morning as they have some casual conversation and give quick kisses before they separate to head to their assigned classes and then they will repeat this, over and over again. And all I can do is watch because we have always been a secret and there is nothing that I can do about it now.

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