Category: Fiction

Facing the Tide, Fiction, horses

Facing the Tide (Chapter One)

kylefreelander

Chapter One

The beach that Lanie and I had ridden across when we were eight years old spread out in front of me. Streaks of pink, purple, and orange joined the rising sun while the salty waves lapped at the receding shoreline, dampening the sand in foamy groups. I could practically see the hoof prints of the ponies we had ridden those many years ago. We had met at our lesson barn, Longbarak Stables, that morning and our instructor told me that Lanie would be joining us today, adding that we were going to the beach because we could both use a break. I hadn’t seen her around before, not even at competitions, but Lanie turned out to be a talented rider. She had given me several pointers over the years, even when she was just that little girl with the big blue eyes and long black hair that never seemed to be brushed.

I stared out at the water wondering why things had to change. Why couldn’t we be those two little girls galloping along, covering ourselves in saltwater and seaweed? Up until about a week ago, it seemed like things really wouldn’t change: Lanie and I had been best friends since that first ride together and had only grown closer over the years. Yes, our interests changed from playing make-believe to obsessing over boys but I had always seen us as those two little girls on the beach who, at that moment, didn’t have a care in the world.

People say that caring about something real is part of growing up, but I never would have thought that this was what was in store for me. Had I known this was coming I would have found a way to be that little girl at the beach, with her newfound friend, forever. If Lanie knew this was going to happen, I’m sure she would have wanted that too.

I thought back to the events of the past week wondering how I had even made it this long. I was so excited on Sunday because Lanie was coming back from her grandmother’s house where she had been for two weeks. Those weeks were tough without her around but nothing compares to what I’ve gone through this week.

I had rushed over to her house when I saw her mother’s minivan pull onto our street that afternoon, knowing that she had been the one to go and get Lanie and her older brother, Garret, from the airport. I ran up to Lanie, engulfing her in a hug when she was only halfway out of the car. “I have so much to tell you!” Lanie squealed, returning my embrace. We grabbed her things and followed her family into the house, dropping her stuff in the living room. “I can’t sit still anymore! First the plane, and then the car…” I sympathized with her knowing that her flight had taken off at 6:30 this morning and that the ride back from the airport was a solid hour at least. “Let’s go riding!” Lanie didn’t wait for an answer before switching into her paddock boots and racing out to my truck. She knew me well enough to know that I would never turn down another chance to horseback ride just like I knew her well enough to know this was exactly what she would want to do when she got back, which is why I had changed into my riding boots and old jeans before coming over.

We had only been out in the field at Longbarak Stables for about thirty minutes when overcast clouds appeared in the distance, telling Lanie and I to go in. “Just one more try!” Lanie said, looping back around to try the jump again. She had been helping train one of the new horses before she had left for Maine and Lanie had wanted to see if any progress had been made, or that’s what she said she was doing. I had a sneaking suspicion that she was really more interested in ensuring that none of her progress with King had been undone while she was gone. King was Lanie’s favorite horse at the moment because he provided Lanie with a challenge, something she never could refuse.

I wasn’t as daring as Lanie; I never had any desire to train a horse –it seemed so scary. In fact, I usually stuck to riding well-trained ponies. I’m 5’2’’ so the smaller the pony the better control I have. Lanie wasn’t as vertically challenged as me, so she was always willing to ride the biggest horses in the barn. I remained convinced that if I could possibly walk under their belly without bending over, it wasn’t a good idea for me to ride them.

I watched as Lanie approached the small jump with King fighting to have his way. They were at the perfect angle, but he kept thrashing his head about. I saw Lanie’s lips move; she was probably trying to coax King to jump. King’s ears twitched back and he calmed down considerably. Maybe they would get it this time, I thought, as the clouds grew darker. The pair took off over the jump, leaping unnecessarily high, something that wasn’t uncommon with untrained horses. I smiled at Lanie’s success but I had smiled too soon; a bolt of lighting shot across the sky followed by a loud rumble of thunder. Everything happened so quickly: King spooked causing Lanie to fly right over his head and under his feet. I screamed but there was no reply. King just kept going, dragging Lanie, whose foot had gotten caught in the stirrup. Everything else was a blur. People rushed out of the barn, hearing my scream and the general commotion. Lanie’s foot got untangled and her lower half fell to the ground with a thud. She didn’t move.

I jumped off of my pony and raced over to Lanie’s side. “Lanie?”

There was no reply. Tears were streaming down my cheek. Someone shouted that the ambulance was on its way. I sat with her until they came while two people went and got the horses. I could barely breathe.

“Lanie don’t leave me.” That was the last thing I said before I fainted, falling alongside my best friend just as the ambulance pulled up.

“She’s going to be okay,” an unknown voice said from a place that sounded far away but, from the cold hand on my forehead, I knew it wasn’t that far at all. I struggled to open my eyes as the afternoon’s event came over me: Lanie’s return, going to Longbarak Stables, riding in the field, the thunderstorm, Lanie’s fall…

My eyes finally opened and I bolted up screaming Lanie’s name. The only reply I got was a hand on my shoulder keeping me on the ground. “Not too fast.” I now knew that this unfamiliar voice belonged to an EMT.

I looked around the field as best I could from my seat in the dirt, but I couldn’t find Lanie. “Lanie!” I cried out again just as my parents crouched down beside me. My mother’s usually obnoxiously white sneakers were coated with a film of dirt.

“Mom?” She just shook her head, her eyes not daring to meet mine.

“Dad?”

He took a deep breath, which the EMT took as her cue to leave. “I’m sorry, Becca; she didn’t make it.”

I shook my head profusely. How was that possible? She had just gotten back this afternoon. How could she not be here anymore? No, it just couldn’t be true. My best friend wouldn’t just leave me like that. She just wouldn’t. She wouldn’t leave me alone.

***

The sound of a seagull’s cry brought me back to the present. The sun was now up and morning joggers were beginning to take over the beach. I wiped away the tears that had formed in my eyes. It hurt to think about Lanie but it hurt even more not to. It was just one of the many things I had to grapple with now. I grabbed my worn flip-flops off of the sand next to me and walked back to my old pick up truck. I had to be strong today. I had to be strong for Lanie.

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Creative Writing, Fiction, short story

Fiction: Wardrobe

kylefreelander

“What’s your story?” LBD grunted as soon as the door was closed. Having been worn more than the rest of us, and being a full outfit on her own, LBD appointed herself our leader. No one fought her on this. She was worldly, always coming back in the closet with tales of parties where she rubbed against shiny ties and pants so pressed you couldn’t guess their age. Sometimes she didn’t even get washed before she was returned to us and we could smell the drinks and smoke that made her cooler than any of us put through the spin cycle.

“What do you mean?” The green sequins on her body shook as she responded.

“Do you have a name? Where are you from? When are you leaving?” LBD was always harsher towards dresses than us shirts.

I wanted to tell LBD to cut her some slack, but I knew better than to mess with her. Even if I was only a T-shirt, LBD was a force not to be questioned. I knew if I stood up for this stranger, LBD would exact some revenge. She’d probably skip over the obvious paint spots I got from when Owner redid the kitchen and jump right to my initial design. On my front side, I said, “S—haw– Swim team 2003” (some of my lettering had gone away over the years while LBD who was here even before I arrived still maintained the appearance of being straight from the store).

The green sequins shook again as the new dress went to reply, “They call me Mermaid…I’m from the mall…” We all shuddered at the word. Most of us were from some mall or another, a holding pen for us as we begged like shelter animals to be taken home. “And I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to go back there.”

LBD scoffed. She didn’t want to compete with new dresses for Owner’s attention. She prided herself on being out the most, of seeing the most, of doing the most, and making us all feel inferior. It worked. I used to see pools and scantily clad bodies but now I was lucky to have even made it to the kitchen. Defilement by paint or not, I was lucky to leave the closet.

“What do you think of the newcomer?” Blue asked me. She and I had become friends a few months into her arrival here once the dresses shunned her. From her exterior alone, you would never have guessed that Blue wasn’t a sundress and, since no one thought to ask her if she was what she appeared, she was accepted as one of them. LBD didn’t feel as defensive when it came to her since Blue was clearly a casual wear and LBD was for “special occasions,” as she liked to say.

It was only when Blue got caught on another dress that her secret was revealed: she wasn’t a dress at all. She was a jumper and dresses couldn’t be friends with the jumpers. Most of the shirts had shunned her as well for deceiving us all, but I was rather forgiving on the matter. Blue couldn’t help the way she looked anymore than I could.

“She seems a little skittish,” I replied as Mermaid shook her body in a manner that made it look like she was drowning. I wished that someone would tell her that it was going to be all right, that she just needed to ignore LBD. One of these days Mermaid would get to see a piece of the world the way we all did and she would no longer care about her first moments pulling on the white plastic hanger, holding on for dear life, while LBD interrogated her.

Mermaid made it through the year, getting taken out three times in the summer and early fall to events that LBD pretended not to care about but we all knew that she did. Even though she got out more than any of us, LBD wanted nothing more than to be taken out every day –practical or not. Blue got worn once that year –on a boat she had said with a smile so large it looked like a matching long necklace hung on her. I, on the other hand, hadn’t left the closet at all. There was one close call when Owner almost pulled me down, but she settled on a different shirt instead when she notice the splotches of paint she had put on me. As evil as she was, even LBD knew better than to say anything about this occurrence. We all feared the day when Owner wouldn’t want us anymore.

Then came the day we always knew would come as it did every year: spring-cleaning. We could always tell that day was on the horizon when Owner wore less sweaters and shorter dresses. Today was that day. As owner walked into the closet, I stared at the black body bag in her hand. Her nails were painted the same shade of green she had painted the kitchen walls –the same shade of green that I wore in spots across my skin. In a weird way, that gave me some hope. Owner still likes the color and I have some of that color. Maybe she still liked me. We had been through so much together. Surely she remembered that?

Owner started at the back of the walk-in closet with the dresses and worked her way forward. I could tell that Mermaid was holding her breath the same way all the new articles of clothing from the past year were. I wanted to tell them it was stupid to worry so much. They had the least to worry about out of all of us. Owner wasn’t going to get rid of something she hadn’t even had for a year yet. My seven-year stance in the closet was living proof of that and LBD’s nine-year stay was even more comforting.

The bag remained bodiless as Owner walked passed Mermaid, LBD, and the dress owner had worn to homecoming as a high school freshman and hadn’t worn since. If she could keep things like that around, she would certainly keep me. Then again, Sparkles was in perfect condition and I was flawed beyond repair. As Owner inched closer, tossing in a few white blouses that knew what their fate was given that they couldn’t even button around Owner anymore. I still fit though. At least I think I did. It had been a while, but there was still room for growth the last time I was worn. That comforted me for a little bit, but I still found myself holding my breath like I was a newbie when owner stood in front of me.

Owner paged through the hangers, throwing them down the post they clung to so that one shirt ran into the next and barer bar was exposed. I was flicked down the row in the same quick, careless manner that slammed me into another T-shirt. A wave of relief came over me as I realized today wasn’t my day. I was going to be here for at least another year and not placed in the body bag with the ill-fitted blouses. Owner still wanted me.

Owner continued flipping through the T-shirts, getting to the end of the collection without adding any new additions to the body bag. I mentally applauded my groups success for Owner’s clear desire to keep us, but I let my guard down too soon. Owner flipped backwards through the shirts she had just gone through, bringing us all up to the block again. Before I knew it, Owner’s green fingertips were on me, blending in with the spots that I had gotten from the kitchen paint like we were two pieces of the same whole. Maybe Owner saw it too –how we fit together so perfectly even though she had forgotten me over the years. I could forgive her for all of that.

That was my last thought before she yanked me down from the hanger and stuffed me in the body bag in a motion so swift and unexpected that I didn’t even have a chance to cry out. I watched the patch of light fade from my sights as Owner tied off the body bag. I imagined Blue crying out for me, begging for Owner to bring back her friend. I could practically see Mermaid shaking her fish scales like she had just been pulled out of the pond and thrust onto the cutting board herself. I knew LBD would carry on like nothing had happened. She would probably say something sassy like how I brought this upon myself with the message the back of my shirt said: “No shoes, no shirt, no problem!” Now there was no shirt as I was dragged away from the only friends I had ever known into the world I still wouldn’t be able to see.

Creative Writing, Facing the Tide, Fiction

Facing the Tide (summary and sample)

kylefreelander

Playing sidekick to the bolder, stronger Lanie is all seventeen year old Becca has ever known. Then there is the accident that changes everything, forcing Becca to face life without her best friend. Drowning in emotion, Becca turns to people she never thought she would be able to rely on: Lanie’s older brother; a therapist that might have more problems than Becca herself; and Christian, the only boy that Lanie and Becca ever fought over, as she discovers what it takes to face the tide in her own life.

AMAZON pink COVER sm

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Creative Writing, Fiction, short short story, short story

Fiction: My Date With a Vampire

kylefreelander

My first date with a nonhuman went as well as can be expected. Not that I was expecting much from it anyway. Okay, maybe I was. I was expecting fangs and drips of blood pouring down his cheek like he was a real-life Dracula. I mean, isn’t that what everyone expects when they hear vampire? But he wasn’t that at all. I didn’t expect that he would look so normal. Okay, he didn’t look normal. He was better than normal with light brown hair that fell against his tan skin like feathers, hitting just above the dark eye brows that made his eyes seem like emeralds. Vampire or not, that man was perfect.

You’re probably wondering why it is that I went on a date with a vampire in the first place, especially if I was expecting him to look like Dracula. Well, I don’t have an answer for you. All I can say for myself is that some of the movie representations of Dracula are quite sexy and then there’s the whole Twilight fad and, well, I couldn’t resist. I just had to know what it was like to go on a date with a vampire, what it was like to go on a date with a nonhuman.

Yes, I said it. I wanted to date a nonhuman. I was getting bored of all the human men blowing me off for video games and football games. Surely vampires didn’t care about such things. They would have mature and sophisticated interests, something to match their age. In that respect, my expectations weren’t too far off base. Tyler the vampire (I can’t help it if he made the alliteration himself) had no interest in video games and even less interest in sports. I’m not even sure he knew what a football was. He was more interested in books that could teach him something new, he had told me over dinner at a restaurant with white tablecloths.

Before you ask, no he hasn’t read Twilight. When I brought it up, his dark brows crinkled and he asked what the book was and, more importantly, if it would teach him something new. I smiled and said it might. I didn’t want to be the person to tell him that it was about sparkly vampires and how a human girl brings them together with the werewolves they had always hated. Maybe he would think I wanted to be like Bella or something –that I wanted to be the human that made Tyler the vampire risk everything just for love.

“It’s also a movie,” I added. His nose just wrinkled in response as he let the silence overcome us again. To be fair, Tyler the vampire had told me before he asked me out on the dating sight where his picture was conspicuously absent, that it had been awhile since he had been out on a date. Maybe the silence was because he was nervous. Worse yet, maybe the silence was because I was nervous under the surveillance of his green eyes that seemed to grow wider and wider each time I cut into my steak. I guess I should have ordered well done. Maybe I shouldn’t have ordered anything at all considering he hadn’t. I was beginning to think this date may have been a bad idea after all.

“Not that I like movies or anything,” I added, staring at the pool of red forming around my steak. It didn’t matter what I said though, there was no saving this date once Tyler the vampire reached across the table and drank the blood right off of my plate. There was no unseeing that, no matter how attractive he was. If he wanted food, he should have ordered his own.

Creative Writing, Fiction, short short story

Fiction: Emily is Dead

kylefreelander

If I could do it all over again, I probably would have picked out my new hair color before I faked my own death. That way, I could just dye my hair right after instead of having to sneak into stores with every inch of me covered as if that would keep people from staring. If I looked half as ridiculous as I felt, I couldn’t blame them. I just took comfort in the fact that there was no way anyone would recognize me as the woman on the news whose car was found abandoned in the lake –the woman whose body they were still looking for. My chin wasn’t distinct enough for recognition and my wooly black hat and pink-framed sunglasses would keep them from getting a good look at any of my more recognizable features. That’s at least what I told myself in an attempt to steady my breathing as I snatched up the last box of black dye and headed to the counter.

I handed exact change to the cashier who was too distracted by my shaking hands to realize that I was the woman on the tiny TV screen next to him. “Have a nice day,” he said as I grabbed the box off of the counter.

I tried to express my thanks in a smile but my lips just formed a straight line. I hurried out of there, stopping only to shove the box into the pocket of my red sweat pants. I don’t know why I chose red sweat pants as the outfit that I wanted to run away in. At the time, it seemed like a good idea. I was trying as hard as I could to differentiate myself from the Prada wearing redhead on the screen and these sweats seemed to be the way to do just that. Now I wondered if I was drawing too much attention to myself. Maybe my wardrobe would lead to my demise. Or at least my second demise. Either way, my current outfit had the potential to ruin everything.

“Miss! Excuse me, miss! Wait!”

Someone must have figured out who I am. Run. No. They’re probably not even talking to me. Run anyway. No, just turn around. Act like nothing is wrong. Nothing is wrong. Nothing at all. I could hear the footsteps pounding on the pavement as the voice made its way closer to me. It was too late now. I had to talk to him.

I took a deep breath and turned around just as a man came to a stop in front of me. He glanced down at his hand before extending his arm towards me with a closed fist. “You dropped this, Emily.”

I took a step back. How did this man know my name? Was this the end of everything? Would I have to return to my house, to my life, to my husband? I couldn’t go back there. I just couldn’t. The man bounced his fist in the air and I knew he wasn’t going to leave until I had taken the object from him. I held out my open hand and a warm chain was dropped into my palm. Now I knew exactly how he knew my name.

I stared at the silver bracelet, taking in the engraving I had forgotten about over the years: I love you, Emily. It had been a long time since I had seen those words paired with my name. I almost hadn’t brought the bracelet with me at all. I was going to leave it in my car at the lake where it would sink like the rest of my past. I changed my mind at the last minute though. If times got tough down the road, I would be able to pawn it somewhere. If I could build a better life for myself, as I hoped to do, I would always have this bracelet as a reminder of what I had overcome.

A tear rolled down my cheek and I reached up to wipe it away. I was never one to cry in front of strangers and even this shell of who I was as I waited to form my new identity wasn’t pleased with the idea of crying in public. I ran my fingers swiftly across my cheek, grazing my sunglasses enough to knock them off of my face. The man picked the pink plastic up off the ground, handing the glasses back to me.

“Hey, you look a lot like that woman on the news. The one who died in that accident at the lake.”

“Well, I’m not her,” I said, snatching the sunglasses from him. I tried to compose myself, but the man continued.

“Her name was Emily, too.” He stared at me and I could tell that he was putting together the pieces in his mind. Any minute, he would have all the proof he needed to inform the world that I was very much alive. It wouldn’t even be the sweatpants that did me in. The bracelet would be to blame.

“Thanks for all your help,” I said, putting the sunglasses back on. Before he could say anything else, I turned around and ran. I couldn’t let my past ruin my future.

I kept running, expecting any moment to hear the man’s voice crying out that I was alive. Any moment I would be stopped and taken back to the very place I was trying to avoid. That didn’t happen though. My name was not uttered by anyone as I ran into a 7-11. I headed straight to the bathroom and locked the door. No one would expect to find someone like me in a place like this.

A few hours later, I was ready to leave. I took one last look in the mirror and made eye contact with someone even I didn’t recognize. I grabbed my belongings off the ground, shoving my remaining cash in the pockets of my new jeans with the bracelet, and left to start my new life. The door slammed behind me as I left my disguise in a pile on the floor with the pink sunglasses perched on top like a cherry on a sundae. Every thud of my boots on the tile seemed to say the same thing: Emily is dead. Emily is dead. Emily is dead.

I smiled and kept walking.

Emily is dead.

Creative Writing, Fiction, short short story

Fiction: Two Sugars

kylefreelander

Truth be told, I miss him. I had been trying to hide that fact from others and myself for a while now but there was no point anymore. I could no longer avoid the parties he went to, the games he was going to play in, and the halls where his classes were and claim we weren’t friends anymore because I didn’t care. No, that wasn’t the case at all. I didn’t even have to try and avoid him because I knew he would be trying just as hard as I was to never have our paths cross again. No matter where I went, he was nowhere to be found. That is, he was nowhere to be found until today.

I spotted him as soon as he walked into the coffee shop. I nearly spit my white mocha out all over my book but I captured my surprise in time to regain the appearance of composure in case he looked my way. From my seat near the door, I could only see the back of him as he found his place in line, one person away from the counter. He was at the cash register, probably ordering his usual: dark roast, two sugars. Some things about him would never change: the coffee he drank, the way his brown hair remained disheveled no matter how many times he claimed to have brushed it, and how he was never able to sense my presence in a crowded coffee shop the way I could sense his.

From behind my book I watched him as he handed the cashier his credit card. Part of me wanted to remain unnoticed by him because I knew it was best for both of us but the other part of me knew he was going to see me on the way out. It didn’t occur to me until the woman handed him his coffee that I could have left by now. I could have snuck out and he wouldn’t even have known that I was here, but it was too late. He took his coffee from her and turned to leave. I ducked further behind my book as he started walking in my direction. I knew now that I didn’t want him to see me because that meant I would be forced to look into those familiar brown eyes again and remember everything I tried so hard to forget: the time we walked hand in hand through the snow, the night he told me he loved me over Fritos and a movie, the meaningful glances and kisses up until he said goodbye. A few months weren’t enough to bury those memories forever and I knew one look from him would be enough to bring them all back to the surface.

The door chimed as he left the shop. I put my book down on the table, surprised that it actually doubled as a hiding spot. Sure, it was intended to be one but I pretty much knew he was going to see me anyway and, with flushed cheeks, I would put the book down with a laugh about how I was just so into the story. Then that crooked smile would come over his face like it always did when I was doing something I knew was probably stupid but he insisted was actually adorable. He would sit in the empty seat across from me and we would talk for hours about all the things that made us go wrong until we made all of them go away so that we could be right again. That’s what was supposed to happen. He wasn’t just supposed to leave without so much as a glance.

I looked out the window and, through the painted letters advertising the shop’s seasonal coffee, I watched him cross the parking lot. I guess today was not the day we were meant to talk again. He set his coffee on top of his car as he pulled his keys out but his attention was clearly elsewhere. I tried to follow his gaze, but I could only guess what he was looking at from the back of his head. I couldn’t figure out what he found so fascinating in a lot full of cars. He turned around and our eyes met through the glass. I leapt back a little in my seat bumping the table enough to cause my coffee to dance in the mug. He waved at me and I had no choice but to wave back as if I hadn’t been waiting for this moment ever since he walked in or, more accurately, ever since he had walked out. Behind him I could now make out my own car and I knew exactly what he had seen that made him turn around and search the coffee shop. Maybe he was just as surprised about our run in but, if he was, he didn’t stay long enough for me to find out. There was nothing more to be done after waves were exchanged and, as always, he was the one who got to go away.

By: Kyle Freelander

Creative Writing, Fiction, horses, short short story

Fiction: Thud

kylefreelander

I knew from the way her breathing was heavy and forceful that she wouldn’t make it if the ambulance didn’t get here soon. Every inhale was a loud wheeze and every exhale was a thud onto the cold dirt. “It’s going to be okay,” I said even though I knew she couldn’t hear me. I would have better luck talking to the horses across the field then I would communicating with her in this state. Then again, I didn’t want to talk to the horses. Or at least one of them. He had caused this. He had trampled her. He had tried to kill my best friend.

A tear made its way down my cheek and I could feel the winter air try and turn the trail it had made into ice. I wiped it away as quick as I could. I didn’t want her to see me cry, even if her eyes were closed. I wanted her to think it was all going to be okay. It all was going to be okay. It had to be. I couldn’t lose my best friend. The ambulance would get here any minute and everything would be better again. It was the waiting that was killing her, that was killing us both.

A scratchy moan came from her lips. It was like metal being scraped across the pavement, being dragged by a car the way her body had been dragged by a horse. It was the worst sound I had ever heard. “It’s going to be okay,” I repeated, trying to sound certain. She groaned again. I looked at the way her legs were turned the wrong way, how her chest appeared almost caved in, and listened to the way each breath sounded like it would be her last. She must be in so much pain. I just wanted to pull her into a hug and let her know we were going to get through this. We got through everything together, but I couldn’t do that. I wasn’t supposed to move her and I didn’t know that it was going to be okay. I didn’t know anything anymore, certainly not how to deal with death.

“Hey, remember that time we skipped class to see Twilight?” I asked in an attempt to distract her. Her body rose and fell in reply. “I was so afraid we would get caught and you told me to suck it up…that we only live once, that we had to make the best of these sorts of opportunities while we still could. Do you remember that?” I knew better than to expect a reply. Water formed in my eyes again and this time when the tears spilled down my cheeks, I just let them. She knew I wasn’t as strong as she was. She would understand that I was even more terrified than I had been when the school called my parents to tell them that I hadn’t been in class that day.

Her body rose and fell with such a thud that some dirt flew up around her. I stared at her through my tears, waiting to see some sign of life but she just lay there on the dirt. There was no more wheezing, no more rising and falling, no more anything. Now my tears were uncontrollable. I buried my face in the sleeve of her jacket and sobbed for what felt like hours but I knew must have only been a few moments. “Why did you have to leave me?” I asked, sitting up again. I shook her lifeless body, and demanded that she return at once –that she come back to life. I needed her but there was no way to bring her back. Her body fell to the ground one last time.

By: Kyle Freelander