Creative Writing, Fiction, short story

Fiction: Wardrobe

“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, Fiction, short short story, short story

Fiction: My Date With a Vampire

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: Two Sugars

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

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