Short Stories

A collection of short stories, that often cloud my thoughts.
Anything from romance, horror and everything in between.

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2. Tarren

How many years had we been together? Too many, or not enough? 

He was my savior, in every sense of the word. So much of my time, was invested to him. But as more years pass, I don't mind. He'd rightfully so, give up equally as much of his time for me. Being a writer is not easy. He knows this, but still finds the patience to put up with me. 

I found him, in the most unusual of ways. When I awoke that morning, I fell out of bed; leaving me with a pain in my shoulder. Then I couldn't have my favorite tea, because my leaves had dried. When I went to pluck more from my garden, I noticed a animal had dug up everything. I salvaged what I could, but my tea leaves took most of the damage. It had been a really bad day for me, the rain clouds looming above me had killed the writing flow I had. So the poem I had started, got away from me. 

So there I sat, drenched in rain on my favorite park bench. The journal I was writing in, encased inside my jacket. Hugging my chest, I began to cry. Too much. Today had just been too much. What I wouldn't give for a warm cup of my grandmother's tea, and a tight embrace that never ceased. 

What I didn't count on was the bar located just across the street. Sighing, I got up and trudged slowly across the paved concrete. I'm sure I looked skeptical, with my shoulders hunched forward, arms crossed hugging my journal to my chest, and hood up. As dark as the sky was, you wouldn't have believed me if I had told you it was only 3pm. 

Once inside, a quick glance around the place told me two things. One; this was a very disfavored bar by the lack of people here, and two; I had reason to believe by the lack of lights, they must be skimping on bills wherever they can.

I sat myself down at the stool up against the bar. Instantly I was greeted by the bartender

"Hi. What'll you have?" Myself not being much of a drinker, I replied

"Uhm, whatever's stronger." He gives me a puzzled look but gets me a drink. In doing so, I unzip my jacket and remove my hood. Placing my journal on the bar top, I slide it to the side to make room for the drink he was setting in front of me. I looked at the clear glass, revealing the dark brown liquid inside. With a sigh, I close my eyes and grab the glass chugging the drink. 

 

The door opens, revealing a tall figure in a cowboy hat. He walks my way, taking the stool next to me. Even though he can clearly choose another, as there is a multitude of seats. I ask for another, and the cowboy in a southern accent asks

"Gimme a shot of what she's havin." the bartender nods in agreement. With us both drinking, our glasses hitting the bar top at the same time are the only sounds in the place. 

 

An hour passes, I think. I stopped keeping track, after my fourth drink. The bar sways, as I make my way to the bathroom. I kneel in front of the toilet, hugging the porcelain bowl. As the toilet water hits my senses, everything in my stomach comes up. Without looking at the contents inside, I flush it down. 

 

Washing my hands and rinsing out my mouth with the sink water, I don't notice the door open.

"Are you okay miss?" I hear. Turning, I look at the man standing in the doorway. Turning the knob on the faucet, I walk over to the dryer. As I press the button, I have to close my eyes for a few minutes before I can clearly see him. He's handsome, with a slight stubble. I smile answering

"Fine. Thank you. But should you be in the ladie's room?" he chuckles lightly, staring down at his shoes.

"Technically, I'm not. I'm merely standing outside the ladie's room." I smile in return at his witty comeback. 

 

Walking out, he follows me. I shrug it off, sitting back at my seat. As I ask for a water, the bartender smiles asking

"One too many drinks sweetie?" I simply nod holding the glass he handed me.

"Do you always write like this? Are you going to finish this?" I look over to my right, at the same man who was with me in the ladie's room. He's sitting a few stools away, but what he has in his hands is what shocks me.

"Why do you have my journal?" I ask with annoyance bouncing off every syllable. He smiles again asking

"What would you say if I told you it was because you told me I could have it?" I stare at him dumbfounded, knowing I'd never say such things.

 

The bartender looks between the two of us,

"Do you two know each other?" he asks nonchalantly. The cowboy that was once to my left, is gone.

"No. We do not." I answer still staring at the man. He smiles at me, sliding the journal across the bar top. I watch it fly across before falling to the ground.

"You were supposed to catch that." He retorts with a smirk. Before I can get up to retrieve it, he's already at my side holding it. 

 

I'm sipping my water slowly. Grabbing it from his hand, he let's his fingers linger on mine for a moment longer than necessary. Swiftly I turn away, letting the journal sit in front of me. The condensation on the glass, slide over my knuckles.

"Is this your first time coming here?" He asks, obviously not caring that I don't seek conversation.

"Yes." I reply curtly.

 

My right hand rests over the cover of the journal.

"Are you afraid the book is going to eat you? Is that why you won't write anymore?" My head snaps over to my left. The cowboy that came in a short while ago, addresses me. My cheeks flush in embarrassment,

"No. I just don't know how to make this continue." He smiles. It's then that I notice the slight gap in between his front teeth. 

 

I smile, leaning over to him.

"What would you do?" He laughs lightly, rubbing his hand over his neck.

"I guess rightfully so, I'd leave." He says with a country twang. I smile because it's such a refreshing sound to hear.

"So you have been reading what I've been putting down." His laugh is booming and contagious as he stares at his drink: which is almost empty. 

 

Ever since then, that bar has become our rendezvous point. Tonight marks our twentieth anniversary. Even though we're both starting to get the slightest of gray hairs, I still find him ruggedly handsome. He holds my hand, playing with my rings. He's reading over my newest work of fiction.

"It's beautiful Tammy." He answers looking over at me.

"The attention of detail you've given to describe the child, is almost eerily accurate to how I see her in my mind." Smiling, I reply

"Well soon you'll be able to hold her Darren." His eyes spark to my stomach. 

 

His hand moves down to feel over it, asking

"Are you certain?" Nodding in response, he engulfs me in a hug. Squeezing him tightly he smells like the bar, and cheap cologne. His head moves down, while his hands hug my waist. With his ear against my stomach, I giggle running my hand through his hair.

"Do you two know each other?" The woman behind the bar asks, with confusion etched through her features. Smiling, I answer

"Yes. We do.".

 

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