Posts

A Summer's Afternoon - a short story

-
 The air was humid. Far more humid than it should have been, the sun beating down violently, as we walked across the meadow, realizing that the woods had offered more respite from the heat that we'd noticed. I looked back nervously, locks of Torver's hair rustling in the hot afternoon breeze, as they followed me across the meadow. Nervously I paused at the edge of the path down to the river, partway though the field, waiting for a few seconds for them to catch up the last few feet. Stopped, I panted a little, both out of nerves and from the blistering heat of the summer afternoon. I wiped my brow, shook my shirt, and looked at them, unable to fully look them in the eyes, and nervous how bad the heat had made me smell. But they just smiled at me and brushed their hand down my arm to meet mine, grasping my fingers in theirs, as we stood there. I felt a sudden rush of even more heat to my face, as I cautiously lead them down the hill of the path, my hand leaving theirs as the path...
Post a Comment
Read more

Brown Street

-
Please note that I copied this from a pdf file, as it was all I had of the story. I may not edit it. June, 1977, I was 11, and remember it so well. I was walking down the street from my house when I saw a young boy about my age sitting in the grass on the side of the road at the corner of brown street. As I got closer, I noticed he was crying. I walked over to him and asked what was wrong. He looked up at me, a big red mark on his left cheek, and tears strolling down. He didn't speak a word to me but put his head back in his arms. I told him I could get my Mom, and he said no. Don't. That he would be okay. I nodded my head, swallowed, and turned around and walked back home. PART I February 5th, 1982 The air was cold this morning and I could see my breath in front of me as I walked. There was almost a foot of snow on the ground, most of it from the night before. Once it gets past two feet, that’s when they close schools. I walked down the road, nearing Brown Street now. ...
Post a Comment
Read more

Number 17 Bleecker street

-
A man on a bicycle rode by just then, barely missing me. I watched as he rode off into the fog. There was no one else on the streets this early, damp morning. The first light had just barely crept into the sky. I kept walking, watching the numbers on the buildings as I went by, looking for number 17. Looking up, I saw the number on a rather dingy looking building. Broken windows and limp, dead vines adorned the outside, a few bullet holes and mud graced the front door.  I went up the cement steps and tapped on the door, not quite fully on it's hinges. It opened slowly, creaking a low sound of protest. A blast of warm, smelly air hit me, knocking me back. 
Dirt ran up and down the walls, and I noticed rats crawling all around, and lot's of flies. Making my way to the elevator, I could hear crashes, screams, then all was quiet. The elevator was slow to come. Finally it arrived, the doors opened slowly, and I stepped inside. The elevator smelled of sweat and used condoms littere...
Post a Comment
Read more