Short Stories
Chocolate Makes Everything Better
The soul cried out. Pain from a loss that could not be recovered from, echoed throughout the hall. I collapsed from the agony of defeat. 'Chocolate fixes everything.' Came a voice from the past. I don't understand how chocolate can fix death. I sat in a pool of my own misery. I watched as my heart split into two pieces. The universe shattered. Out of the darkness, a hand reached out. It held a tiny piece of chocolate. I took the piece. I ate the chocolate. As the morsel melted in my mouth, I felt better for a moment. Once the chocolate was gone, the pain rushed in, again. At least chocolate made one moment better. I decided to get up and do something else besides dwell on the past. Maybe chocolate doesn't fix everything. Maybe it gives us a break from the current problem. Perhaps that break is enough to give us the will to keep going.
The Driver
James drove up to the huge gothic style gate outside a massive mansion. He paused staring up at the monolith. A low whistle escaped his lips. The place could put the White House in Washington D.C. to shame. All he saw through the bars was a driveway and seemingly endless hills of green. James rubbed his wedding ring for luck.
He had to get married in a hurry. Teresa, his girl, had a real bastard for a step-father and he had just enlisted in the military. Korea was just starting to get hot with war. While MASH units were all the rage with their meatball surgery and crass wise-cracking doctors. Either way, it looked like James would have to move quickly in order to keep the girl of his dreams.
One week, he was sitting on a couch in the parlor of her house. James had taken the ASVAB and gotten his physical. He still wasn't sure about the military. James had overheard some scuttlebutt about them needing mechanics for Korea. James had always been good with his hands and machines.
James had already had his enlistment accepted. He found out that he would be training in South Bend. He figured that he would be at Notre Dame. They helped out with training troops that would be going over to fight in either Europe or the Pacific during World War II. He figured that with Korea warming up for their own civil war that there would be more boys having to go through training
The Butterfly
Everywhere I go, I see butterflies. Not always in summer, not always outside. I left one job and was handed a blank notebook with butterflies on the cover. I'm a writer. I can always use a good notebook for filling with stories. I have started and stopped and started stories in the butterfly notebook. It's hard to find anything that is up to my standards. I think I'm writing Shakespeare.
I picked up a paper route to give myself something to do. Something to put a little money in my pocket. The paper route isn't that hard. It's just walking and tossing papers on a doorstep or putting the papers in a box. A lot of the houses on my route have doormats. Of course, one of the doormats has a big, brightly colored, butterfly on it. It's pretty and I aim right for the antenna when throwing the paper on the doorstep.
Recently, I began going to school. I wanted to boost my writing skill a little. It made sense to take a class on writing. I drove my little car to my school. I parked in a random spot. I got out and locked my car behind me by pressing the button on the key fob. My car made a delightful little beep. (I don't think the car is locked until it beeps.)
I started walking away from my car and I noticed that the car next to my car had a white butterfly on the gas tank. I think butterflies are following me. Maybe they are stalking me. I don't know. They say that if you have a butterfly and let it go, if it comes back to you it's yours. I used to catch butterflies, as a kid, and keep them in jars. But I never had butterflies follow me around.
Perhaps the butterfly represents someone from my past. Someone that let me go and wishes they could have me back. I don't know. A butterfly is simply a butterfly. It's pretty, but it needs to fly. That's the nature of butterflies. They need to fly. I can relate. I don't just want to fly, I want to soar.
The Neverchild
A being that was never a child and can never grow up. Someone of undetermined age.
Oh you stupid thing.
You should've known better, but you're too stupid to learn. Nobody cares about you or what you do.
You're worthless and you should just kill yourself already. Instead of throwing that razor blade onto the counter, you should have just used it to slice your wrists open. Nobody wants you up front and Nobody cares if you live or die. You'd be better off dying.
There's no point to your continuing to live, anymore.
The Missing Name
You don't take anything away from Jimmy. He gets mean when you do.
One time, I tried to take the TV remote away from Jimmy and the next thing I know, I was on the floor with his hands around my throat. To add emphasis, he also grabbed my hair and rammed my head into a wall. Jimmy got his prized remote back. I also survived, thank God.
I am a writer. Several years ago, I wrote a story. I put a dedication. I dedicated the story to my mother. I left off her last name. I wanted to give my mother her own identity. To make her her own person instead of just a simple wife and mother. My mother was Jimmy's wife.
I believe something innocent. Something created and given from the heart was misinterpreted as something else. I believe that Jimmy thinks that I was trying to take his wife from him. If he shows up, I might need to call Police... the Army... I might have to send in the Marines to perform a search and recover mission to find my body. I would need some very skilled and highly trained people to come help. Especially, if Jimmy is still in the area. Jimmy served in the military and was a prison guard in a super maximum prison. He is also severely mentally ill. They should never have taught that boy how to kill.