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Weekly Short Story Contests > Week 101- (November 12th-19th) Stories--- Topic: War DONE!!mth

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message 1: by iomai (last edited Nov 12, 2011 09:03AM) (new)

iomai (irun) Title~To my Heart
By~Chioma
Words~368

The air was cool and damp as Juli got off the bike.People looked at her.The looks were a mix of anger, curiosity,and pity.Mainly curiosity and pity.
Amanda walked up to her and said, "This can all go way.Just break up with him." as always,Juli shook her head,letting her fiery locks swing side to side in front of her eyes blinding her. Not that it really mattered,she couldn't see.
"No.I love him." Amanda took her hand and led her down the halls.She could still feel the stares burning into her.
"You're crazy Juli.He just got out of Juvenal Detention for murder.The murder of your sister."
That fact hurt Juli a little.Okay a lot but she shook it off and said"He didn't mean to.She was just at the wrong place at the wrong time."
Amanda made a sound of disgust just as Danny came.Juli felt her shoot him a cold stare as she reluctantly let do of Juli.Her light but firm hand was replace with a rough,hard,firm but light grip.
He lead her into a classroom.Or a closet.She couldn't tell.The classroom space was restricting.Where ever they were,the a/c was on full blast. In a light t-shirt Juli was shiver like a chiwawa. Danny immediately pulled her into him.The warmth of his leather jacket helped but she still shivered.
"Why?" he suddenly said.
"Why what?" he remained silent.She knew what he was asking."Because i love you.I know you didn't mean to do it.You were sorry."
"But that doesn't make it better that i was sorry.It only makes it worse.Being sorry isn't gonna bring her back."
Juli sighed"She's perfectly happy.I can see her.She's up in the sky.Enjoying the warmth of the sun.And playing with our dog.They're both happy." Danny made a sound of disbelief but remained silent.Since she couldn't see what others saw,others couldn't see what she saw. "And here,im happy.I miss her but i have you.I love you.Your love keeps me warm.It don't care what they say.I don't care about the cold stares.As long as i have you im fine."
She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him.A kiss that warmed them both and seemed to make the cold air from the a/c fade away.


message 2: by Cheyenne (new)

Cheyenne | 815 comments I hope everyone else can see how this relates to the topic, otherwise I may just be slightly mentally insane. Anyways this is the first time in a while I've written a short story on command and not on plain inspiration in quite a while, so forgive me if I'm a bit rusty. Anyways here's my story

Hospital Room 142

I opened my eyes reluctantly and concentrated on the last few steps. Just two more. One. Good, now step inside. The glass of the double doors was cold on my slightly sweaty hands. A blast of chilled air assaulted me as I stepped into the lobby. The woman at the desk gave me a sympathetic nod of greeting and motioned for me to go into the elevator. I supposed that meant my father was awake. He’d been in a coma for three days after a devastating car accident. I hadn’t been in the car.

The up arrow blinked yellow after I pressed it and I tapped my foot. I wished I had something to fumble with, like the rubix cube I kept in my bedroom at home. Anything to distract myself. Well, at least he was awake right? That had to be a good sign. A pleasant feeling bubbled in my chest. My dad was okay, he was alive. He would probably yank on my ponytail when I sat beside him and tell me how silly I was for worrying about him. I smiled, reassured by the image.

The elevator doors opened and I stepped inside before I lost my confidence and ran from the hospital screaming. I watched my trembling hands as the elevator lurched upward. I was so distracted and absorbed that I didn’t jerk my gaze from my hands until the doors started to close again. I rushed forward and squeezed out. The intimidating hall of doors stretched before me and I faltered. Room 142. Don’t think about it, he’s fine anyways. I just needed to walk into his room and he’d reward my bravery with a smile and a hug. Warmth spread to my fingertips and I floated to the door labeled 142. Inhaled, and imagined I could smell him.

When I was three, my mother died. My dad had taken it upon himself to be the best father he could be. In my opinion he succeeded. He’d probably even ask me if I’d been going to school and doing my homework the past few days. Of course I hadn’t. I’d been staying in the hospital and refusing to go with even my dad’s best friend to leave the hospital. Only on food trips or for some fresh air would I leave.

I took a deep breath and pushed the door open lightly. He was lying on the bed in the center of the far wall. His chest rose and fell softly and his eyes were closed. I knew he was awake though because his fingers tapped the bandages wrapped around his waist. His head was encased in more bandages. My heart fluttered and welled. He looked so helpless.

I reached forward to touch his arm and he opened his eyes. I gave him a timid smile.

“Hello.” He said. “What are you doing in here?”

I flinched and pulled back at the indifferent tone of his voice. “I came to see you . . .” I paused. “You’ve been out cold for three days and the doctors wouldn’t really tell me anything. I suspect they didn’t want to scare me, but look, you’re fine now right? Good as new just like that time you fell off the ladder hanging Christmas lights—“ I stopped rambling and stuttered, noticing the confused look on his face. “You are okay aren’t you? I-I mean your awake and all.”

“Christmas lights? Um . . . Sorry Miss, but who exactly are you?”

I cocked my head and tried to figure out if he was pulling my leg. “You know who I am. Your daughter. Madeline.” I tried to keep the hurt expression from my face when he stared at me blankly.

“No. I have no idea who you are, I’m sorry hon, did you need some help? Are you having trouble finding your parents? Maybe you came into the wrong room. It’s okay though I don’t mind.” He smiled.

My heart stopped. “I . . . What? Dad, stop messing with me. Please.” My voice trembled slightly and the feeling of warmth from earlier faded from my system. The door opened and I turned, relieved. It was the doctor.

She paled considerably when she saw me. “Ma’am you shouldn’t be in here . . . Would you come outside for a moment? I’d like to discuss something with you.”

My stomach lurched. I cast a glance back at my father who met my eyes like he was looking at a stranger. I took my escape. The doctor followed me from the room and closed the door quietly, as if in attempt to not wake a child. She crossed her arms over her clipboard and shifted her feet slightly. “I’m going to be blunt here. You’re father suffered massive head trauma from the accident. This resulted in permanent amnesia.”

Tears stung my eyes. “What?” I waited for her to say, “Just kidding!” and tell me my father had asked for her help in pranking me.

She searched my face and seemed to find something there. Her gaze softened and she touched my arms with her fingertips hesitantly. “Your father does not remember anything. I’m so sorry.”

My back thudded against the wall and I sank to the floor. Tears leaked down my cheeks and created dark spots on my jeans. I thought of the past sixteen years. I thought of the scoldings, the appraisals, and the tender moments with tears and hugs. Every year for the past thirteen we’d constructed a letter and a poem, and sent them into the sky with balloons on my mother’s birthday. The tears came faster and I began choking on my own breath, coughing and sputtering until I was on my hands and knees, convulsing with sobs.

Shared laughter and memories floated to the edges of my mind. All that warmth and love had slipped through my fingers the moment I let him leave the house angry. I hadn’t even said goodbye. He was still here, alive, but the past sixteen years were gone in his mind. He didn’t remember Mom, or that he always tied his left shoe first, or that he only wore green shirts because it was Mom’s favorite color. He didn’t even remember me.


message 3: by Lydia (new)

Lydia | 109 comments Wow. Nice story, Cheyenne! I think I do understand how it relates to the topic, and you did a great job! You almost made me cry.. :D


message 4: by Cheyenne (new)

Cheyenne | 815 comments Aww thanks Lydia :]


message 5: by Hanzleberry (new)

Hanzleberry (doughboyissweet) | 1065 comments Don't tell us what to do!


message 6: by Guy (new)

Guy (egajd) | 11105 comments Good stories Cheyenne & Chioma.


message 7: by Cheyenne (new)

Cheyenne | 815 comments Han wrote: "Don't tell us what to do!"

What to do, what to do, what to do! haha xD


message 8: by Cheyenne (new)

Cheyenne | 815 comments >:]


message 9: by Cheyenne (new)

Cheyenne | 815 comments Alex wrote: "VOOOOOOOOOOOOOOTE!

NOOOOOOOW!

Sorry...blame the four cups of coffee.

:]

Oh, right. Links are here.

story poll

and poem poll

The new contest will be up shortly."


Oh suuure it's the coffee ;)


message 10: by Lydia (new)

Lydia | 109 comments Cheyenne wrote: Aww thanks Lydia :]

No problem! :D


message 11: by Cheyenne (new)

Cheyenne | 815 comments Haahahaha. I love this group. It fills my daily dose of laughter :p


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