Tag: short-story

Into the Book

On By Charli ReneeIn Uncategorized3 Comments

The morning was disappointingly hot already. She had taken her book out to the chaise in hopes of sitting outside, listening to the birds while she read. Just as she was about to go back inside, a cool breeze convinced her to stay a little longer. She smiled. This moment wasn’t lost after all.

She started reading.

Paul stepped closer, crowding the small space between them. Bekah’s shoulders drew in, her fingers tightening around the edge of the desk.

“I don’t expect you to understand,” he said, not even bothering to look up from the file in his hand. “Details tend to overwhelm people in your position.”

Evana stopped.

Her eyes flicked back up to the paragraph, just to make sure she read it correctly.

“I don’t expect you to understand. Details tend to overwhelm people in your position.” Evana repeated under her breath, reading it again. Then, louder, “Oh that is absurd. You are an idiot.”

“I am what?”

She froze.

Her eyes slowly lifted from the page.

“No,” she whispered, already shaking her head. “No, no, no. That did not just happen.”

“You seem quite certain for someone who has yet to meet me,” the voice said again, closer this time.

She turned her head.

And when she turned it back…

He was there.

Exactly as she had pictured him.

She closed her eyes tight, then opened. He wasn’t with her, she was with him.

There he stood, but now even closer.

He leaned in too close. She could feel his breath. She refrained from stepping back. Heat was rising in her.

Her eyes did not shift. She leaned in this time. 

She put her hands on her hips. “The audacity.”

He laughed.

The heat in her rose even more. And for a minute, neither moved.

Then she took a deep intentional breath.

“Paul,” she said more calmly, “you are too close. Please step back.”

He laughed again, but this time, he complied.

He looked away from her and shook his head. “You women are so emotional.”

Exasperated, she said, “You have to be a created person. No real person would be this ignorant.”

“Lady, are you crazy? I am as real as the pages of the book.”

She was perplexed. He seemed to know he was written and still thought he was real. More than ridiculous, he was a research project.

Well, he isn’t wrong. Books are real, she thought.

She caught herself. No. Not going down his rabbit hole.

Feeling disoriented, she placed her hand against the wall.

“I am so confused,” she said.

“Yes, I definitely agree,” Paul said pompously.

She’d spent enough time on this jerk, she thought.

She looked around the room, urgency building.

There it was. The exit sign.

She started to run.

A strong grip held her arm.

She turned, ready to hit Paul if she had to, but…

It was Bekah.

Breathing hard, looking up at her with wide, desperate eyes.

“Please, Ma’am… take me with you. Don’t leave me with… him.”

May be continued…

Would you take Bekah?
What’s behind the door?
Does she get out?

My Existential Animal Identity Crisis

On By Charli ReneeIn Uncategorized5 Comments
Daily writing prompt
Which animal would you compare yourself to and why?
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This is easy.

I’m a lion, because I love to just be…

Lion interrupts.

“Are you serious? Lions are predators extraordinaire. Need I say more?”

Okay, okay. Ease up with the RAWR.

Alright, I’ve got it. I’m a turtle because I like to go slow and steady…

Turtle interrupts.

“Are you serious? Your thoughts fly at the speed of light.”

Okay, sheesh. That doesn’t mean I can’t slow down.

Turtle rolls his eyes and moseys slowly down the road.

Fine.

I know what I am. I’m an elephant. I’m loyal and I love my family.

Elephant interrupts.

“Are you serious? You like your alone time too much. But you can come play with us anytime you want.”

We giggle and set a future date.

Oh wait. I know.

I’m a horse. I have a long horse head and a free spirit.

Horse interrupts.

“Are you serious? You’re far too clumsy to be a horse.”

Well… maybe.

Then suddenly an otter pops up out of the water, floating on his back.

“I bet I know what you’re going to say next,” he chuckles.

“Oh?” I say.

“You think you’re an otter because we’re playful.”

Actually… yes.

The otter laughs.

“Are you serious? You analyze fun before you have it.”

Well. That seems unnecessarily accurate.

I sit down, discouraged.

I’m not strong enough to be a lion. Not slow enough to be a turtle. Too solitary to be a cool elephant. Too clumsy to be a horse. Too serious to be an otter.

Lion pffts from the side. Nothing is as cool as a lion.

The otter floats over and gives my shoulder a small splash.

“Hey,” he says. “You’re still invited to play.”

I smile a little, but I’m still not convinced.

So what am I?

Just then, a wise owl looks down from the tree and interrupts.

“You may not be as strong as a lion, but you do have fierce moments. You may not be as majestic as a horse, but sometimes you are a sight to behold. You may not move as slowly and methodically as a turtle, but you flow in your own beautiful way.”

“You, my silly friend, are trying to be things you can never be. Why not be the kind of animal that has its own coolness?”

I sit up, excited with anticipation.

Will he say I’m a dog? A fox?

The owl looks at me calmly.

“You are an animal like us,” he says.

Then he tilts his head.

“But you are the human kind.”

I nod thoughtfully.

Feeling rather enlightened, I turn to head home.

On the way, I trip over a thick patch of air.

Yep. Definitely human.

The Infamous Milk Shortage Penalty

On By Charli ReneeIn Uncategorized1 Comment
Daily writing prompt
What is your favorite drink?
View all responses

We meet in the kitchen, especially in the evenings when the chances are high that we’ll find each other there.

My oldest granddaughter, my new roomie, is usually already present. If she hears me moving about, she joins me. We visit, share a hug and a kiss, and giggle about the happenings of the day.

But we both know where this is headed.

One reaches for the gallon, the other for two glasses.

Our system is simple and civilized: no one drinks the last of the milk without issuing a restock warning. Peace is preserved that way.

The trouble begins when there is only an inch left at the bottom.

We both see it.

We lock eyes.

A silent stare down follows.

Two responsible adults stand before the refrigerator, staring at what remains, neither willing to be the one who crosses the line.

We both know what this really means.

The Infamous Milk Shortage Penalty is now in play.

Who let it get down that far without ordering more milk?

Look Where You Led Me

On By Charli ReneeIn Uncategorized5 Comments

Once, a curious writer found a small envelope tucked inside an old book. The note inside read, “Your next adventure begins… will you follow the trail of glowing fireflies or the echo of a distant waterfall?”

The inquisitive writer wanted to just sit down and watch the fireflies. They were so beautiful. But they were heading somewhere, so she followed them.

It felt like only a short time had passed when she noticed the tiny lights settling on one tall, majestic tree. She looked up in awe as she walked closer and closer.

Then she saw it.

Another note attached to the tree.

The writer paused before reading it. She was thirsty and tired, so she sat down and leaned against the tree before unfolding the note.

It read, “I am glad you are here. You have been seeking long enough. Let the quest cease for a moment. The fireflies led you not to movement, but to stillness. Sit a little longer. The waterfall is just ahead, and it will be more magical because you paused. The echo is closer now. Listen before you rush.”

She lowered the paper and sat there, listening to the steady cascade of water.

As she rested against the tree, ideas began to grow within the stillness. The fireflies and the waterfall were not destinations after all, but inspiration. Exactly what she needed to plow through her writer’s block with a wrecking ball.

She never did make it to the waterfall that night. It would have to wait.

The fireflies seemed almost in sync as they guided her back toward her cabin. The desk that had brought so much frustration earlier now glowed with the same intoxicating shimmer as the tiny lights in the trees.

She sat down, took a deep breath… and the story began.

Turns out, you led me exactly where I needed to go.

Buddies at the Gate

On By Charli ReneeIn Submissions10 Comments

 

Bud-dies have been waiting at the gate, hoping I’d rise and make that morning magic, the one with nuts, fruits, seeds, all swirling in that rich, velvety parfait.

Please let it be the one, they whisper, barely daring to hope.

Guys… I think it’s happening. The gate is opening. Look! The spoon is full.

Oh my, this is going to be more than we can contain.

A collective sigh of bliss reverberates throughout the chamber.

It’s beyond tasty: crunchy and smooth, sweet and a little bitter, all at the same time.

“My favorite is the nuttiness of it all,” says Crunchy Carl, the portal clown. “Me and nutty are best buds.”

“Of course you are,” mutters Salty, the critic. “One spoonful and his corniness hits overdrive.”

“Shush, Salty,” whispers Syllabud, ever the poet. “To taste is to live.”

“Please,” snaps Tangy, ever the tart-tongued cynic. Pssst, Sugar, his pet name for Sweet Sally, for he always felt they were made for each other, the sour to her drippy sunshine. Are you hearing this? As usual, they’re babbling like a bunch of… Sugar, are you listening to me?”

“Huh? Oh, sorry. This is just so hip-hip-horraylicious. Mmm, divine.”

Then, from somewhere deeper in the flavor field, Cordata, the savoriest, speaks with quiet command.

“We all know she depends on us, insists even, to soothe her palate. While I find her expectations for harmony a bit unrealistic, we’d better work together… or she might switch to boring, bland oatmeal. And not the brown sugar and cinnamon kind.”

A hushed gasp ripples through the buds.

“Oh man,” Crunchy Carl whispers. “I miss that flavor.”

I sigh. “Cordata, I’m not looking for a peace summit. I just wanted breakfast.”

More… more… MORE!

Their chant elevates into a culinary rebellion.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” I mutter. “You all are so dramatic.”

I scoop another spoonful, partly to appease them, partly because, well, they’re not wrong.

“Here. This should soothe your almost obnoxious senses.”

“Oh, quite contrary,” they cry. “The senses are fixing to explode with deliciousness!”

I shake my head, smiling.

Ahhhhhh.

I lift the final spoonful, realizing the last bite is always the hardest to swallow. “My cherished buddies, brace yourselves. Let’s remember that life is scrumptious, joyfully absurd, and entirely worth waking up for. Now, here it comes.” Their swoons, sighs, and giggles said it all.

And in unison, they all agreed.

Stories, Bit by Bit: Lilly, Part Two Continued.

On By Charli ReneeIn Stories, Bit by Bit3 Comments

with gratitude to Lori Sillman for this next twist in Lilly’s journey

Lilly wasn’t sure how all that spunk materialized, but she was thankful it had. So there, Mr. Greg Thomas! I guess thinking she’d just walk in and be on the next flight to Borneo proved her ability to dream was still there. She chuckled at herself.

Having lined up, in order, next steps was just what she needed to stay motivated and determined. Registering for the right classes was something she was familiar with doing, even if it was for a completely different degree. But writing a piece all about herself would prove much more challenging. She loved the idea of answering all the who, what, where, when, and why for someone else’s life. For her own, not so much.

Lilly curled up in her plushy armchair, enveloped herself in her softest blanket, and opened her laptop. How hard could it be? A full half hour and seventy-three starts later, she decided it could be very hard.

The buzzing interrupted her attempt number seventy-four. “Hello?”

“Hi Lilly! I have such news!”

Having known Roni for nearly twenty years, Lilly could tell Roni was excited with barely one word spoken. “I’m hoping you’re about to share it,” she said, her smile heard as much as her words.

“I’m getting married, and you just have to be my Maid of Honor!”

Stunned was all Lilly could feel. “What? When? To whom? How long have you been dating? Do I know him? Why didn’t you tell me you were serious about someone, anyone?”

Laughter bubbled from Roni’s throat. “Slow down! I don’t know what to answer first.”

“All of them. Immediately!”

“When can we get together? I’ll fly you here. We can discuss plans, and you can meet him.”

The girls hadn’t seen each other in over three years. College in different states will do that. Lilly wanted to go, but now? Seriously? Why did it sometimes seem nothing could be easy?

To be continued.

Tag, you’re it. If you’d like to join me in the fun, feel free to comment below. If not, I’ll keep the story moving, bit by bit.

Sending warmth and kindness.

Stories, Bit by Bit: Lilly, Part Two

On By Charli ReneeIn Stories, Bit by Bit4 Comments

Stories, Bit by Bit: Lilly, Part Two

Lilly started walking fast toward the journalism club. She was so excited. Everything was coming together, but as she got closer, she felt herself falling out of place. Her confidence began to shatter as she recalled her dad’s conversation and all the inner dialogue she had been playing.

Is this even possible? I am probably fooling myself. I do tend to dream, but remember, dreaming is a great motivator. Come on, girl, you’ve got this.

Just as she opened the door, her aplomb stood up. Even if it was a “fake it until you make it” moment, she’d take it. The door felt stuck, but maybe it was because she was still shaking. She let go, took a deep breath, and firmly grabbed it with extra strength, and it opened nicely. The room was cool and very quiet.

She didn’t get very far before a tall man greeted her. Though friendly, he was intimidating, and her phony bologna confidence act began to shatter. Since she stood frozen, the man approached, and it was clear he saw how uncomfortable she was.

“Welcome. My name is Greg Thomas. Who do I have the pleasure of meeting today, and how can I help you?”

He was so nice.

Lilly smiled and said, “My name is Lillian Frank, but my friends just call me Lilly. I am here to find out more about this club. I think that I would very much like to become a member. I was hoping I could speak to someone and learn about what you offer, and if I might be well suited to join.”

He smiled and responded quickly. “Looks like you found me. I happen to be the club president. I was just heading out for the day when you entered.”

“Oh no, Mr. Thomas. I can come back another time if that is better.”

“Not necessary. I am more than happy to help, and please, call me Greg. Come into my office.”

She was getting more excited. It seemed he was eager to consider her already, or was she just hoping?

He said that he needed to know more about her first.

“So, tell me, Lilly, how long have you been pursuing a degree in journalism? We usually only consider those who have already completed their prerequisites and are well on their way to graduating.”

She paused and took a deep breath. “Sir, I mean Greg, I’m a senior undergraduate. My degree has been in veterinary science.”

Greg looked confused. He started explaining that she may have wandered into the wrong place. This was a journalism club for aspiring journalists.

She scowled at him. Displaced anger was real. The same defensiveness she had felt with her dad rose up again.

“Yes, sir, I know. But you see, I have been thinking about this for a long time. I want to become a journalist instead.”

“Listen, sir,” she continued, no longer wanting to call him Greg. “Is there a rule at this college that says a person can’t change paths? I don’t think so.”

She took a breath.

“I know I’m a good writer. I’m certain many credits will transfer. I’ve written, and I’ve even been published in the local paper. I’m serious about this, and I’m capable.”

She hesitated, then added, her tone tempered, “I would welcome the opportunity to prove myself, if you’ll let me.”

She realized she may have been disrespectful. His small grin, followed by a brief laugh, made her wonder if he was mocking her. Then he leaned in.

“Lilly, I apologize if I came across as dismissive,” he said. “I hear your determination, and you’ll need that spunk, and plenty of it, as a journalist.”

“I would consider you on two conditions. First, you need to get all your logistics in order. We only accept members who are actively working toward a journalism degree.”

“Second, I want you to write a piece explaining how you came to the decision to become a journalist, what you hope for your future, and why we should consider you.”

She had asked for a chance, and this was it.

To be continued.

Tag, you’re it. If you’d like to join me in the fun, feel free to comment below. If not, I’ll keep the story moving, bit by bit.

Sending warmth and kindness.