Category: short short story

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