SHORT STORIES

Today is My Day

I hate doing drills with the team when were at these big meets. It takes me out of my mindset. I like being alone, solitary. Half a mile, some strides, stretching, and Im ready.

As I run through my warm-ups I cant help but think about the last race. I warmed up properly, hydrated myself well and I felt so great. But nearing the last 100 meters I started feeling faint. When I crossed the finish line, I fell limply into the officials arms, not able to stand on my own. Will that happen again? What if I faint in the middle of the race? What if this time, I dont make it? That last race, only an 800, but those last 100 meters seemed like an eternity. There was no light at the end of that tunnel. I drowned out all the cheering and the yelling. They were telling me I had someone right on my tail, but did I care? I cant let this happen again. But if everything seemed so perfect in my pre-race routine, then how would I stop it from happening to me today?

Stretching, I try to switch myself to a positive mind-set. Today Im going to break 2:30, I know I can do it. Im strong, I know it. Ive trained hard for this. Seven seconds faster, thats all I need. One second off of each 100 meters and I am set. Ill gain my personal best time today.

I lace up my spikes, double-knotting to reassure they wont come undone. I check each spike twice to make sure they arent loose. I dont need any falling out during the race. I take off my warm-ups, leaving myself in only my spankies and singlet. How light I feel now. Taking a sip of water, I slow down and zone out for a second, not exactly thinking about anything. The call for my event brings me back out and I quickly stick my number to my left thigh as I jog to the start.

Great, Im in the first heat. That means Im with the fastest of the fast. Cant make a fool of myself now, Ive got to do this, Ive got to push myself. They all look so powerful, they all look so fast. How am I going to keep up with them? No, I can, Ive trained just like them. Laboring every day, finding comfort only in ice or hot baths to ease the aches of intense training.

Standing at the line, I jump up and down to keep loose and shake out my arms. Ill need them as a reserve today to push myself to the end. Feeling light, I take a few strides before we are asked to set at the line.

Theres the official, same one that started us off in the last race. Oh that last race, I cant let that happen again. No, today is a new day with a new battle. Today is my day.

The Performance

I take a deep breath and glance at my hands to see them shaking as if I were plagued with a tremor. My breath creeps down into my body and brings the butterflies in my stomach to life.

Slowly, I pull back the zipper and undo the latch to the black case Ive embroidered with a red G-clef. Inside a blanket of royal blue and a Velcro strap protect the precious wood. I draw the blanket back and pull the Velcro. The smooth wood now sits in the grasp of my hands. I carefully take out the bow, as to not damage any of its hair. I rosined it yesterday, so I need not do that again or Ill cause the dust to gather under the strings. In my head, I hear the A and tune precisely to it. Another deep breath, still shaking. Trying to fight back, I attempt to play a few smooth scales and their corresponding arpeggios. Sounds good. Always sounds good before it has to, always. Hair is tied back, sleeves are rolled up, shirt is buttoned up, but not to the top. Another deep breath. I can do this, this will be it, I will wow the audience. I hear the applause, the concert band has finished their number, it is now my turn to join them. Shaking, shaking, taking a deep breath, letting it slowly out. The bright lights dim my nerves as I step out and take a bow. Good, the band played the introduction correctly this time. Theres the conductors cue, its my turn now. The first note, an A, perfectly in tune, Im now set, I can do this.

Before the Moment: 400-Meter Dash

All runners for the 400-Meter Dash please come on over, the plump

official bellowed out, fiddling his beetle-black gun between his stubby fingers. The

tiny butterflies started prancing around in my stomach and leaping up my throat like little ballerinas frolicking across the stage. I strolled towards the track, letting the

slight cool breeze tiptoe through my hair. I peered up above to see the birds flying

monotonously in the crystal clear, periwinkle sky. The radiant golden sun smiled upon the fresh kelly-green grass. The air was clean and fresh after a dreary day of rain. Behind me I could hear the chuckles of my teammates telling jokes and the faint sound of upbeat music.

I hesitantly stepped onto the track and took a deep breath. The pungent smell of

the wet rubber rose up my nose and stung the back of my mouth. The track felt soft

and a bit knobby beneath my feet. I then looked down at the cherry-red track and

noticed the never-ending ivory lines. They were like a maze with no way out,

continuously going around and around. My mouth started to fill with saliva as an

hourglass fills with sand, and little beams of nervous sweat broke out on my forehead.

My teeth started chattering as parents and coaches roared out tips to me that seemed to

go in one ear and out of the other. I glanced over at the stands and saw a basket of

strawberries and blueberries. Several people wore their Raider shirts, full with team

spirit. The blueberries were the jumpy parents of our opponents. The rambunctious

crowd seemed to slowly creep away as I thought more and more about the upcoming

race.

Step up to the white line, an official said in an authoritative manner.

BANG! The piercing shot of the officials gun shattered the air. My emotions poured out like a flood gushing into town. The race was on!

Elijah

Why, why that night, did I have to sleep with my gun by my side? It was for my protection, but then it turns against me and ruins my life. I have such insurmountable feelings right now, Emi said to herself. I could have sworn it was all a dream. I have gotten up, I guess, in my sleep and walked down to the old mans apartment and, and, oh my gosh, I killed him! I recall it perfectly. It was a very transitory dream. In the latter part of it, I went back into my apartment and put the gun back where it was before; beside my bed. See, I had been very afraid that someone was going to break in like they had done to my sister on the third floor; the one below my own. What am I going to do? Who am I going to tell?

You can tell me, said a soft, but harsh voice.

Whos there? exclaimed Emi.

It is I! You will not get away with your mistake!

Emi suddenly felt colder, and decided to just shake the whole thing of. There was a probability that it was just her mind playing tricks on her. Just my guilty conscience. I know it.

The following week, the voice came more and more. It began to bother her so much that she decided to go somewhere tranquil where she could relax. I shall take my leave to Lithuania, where I can visit some relatives. Whatever, whoever that voice is cant possibly follow me there. Can he, or it?

Emis philosophy proved to be very wrong indeed. The voice turned into apparitions. It was the old man she had murdered. Elijah, as he was called, would come up behind her and whisper things into her ear. Things, of which, had no meanings, and she couldnt understand him, but she knew he wouldnt give up until she was dead or until she gave herself in.

When she arrived back home, the things he was doing to her augmented even more. She would be sitting there playing her flute, and now he would actually take control of her body and hurl her against walls and windows. Emi was becoming so mentally drained. She couldnt leave her apartment for fear of an attack out in public. If one saw her, she would seem so haggard and depressed. It seemed like things were getting worse by the day.

Finally, one day, she went to confession at the local church. It was hard for Emi to get herself out into the open. She explained everything to her priest and left. Elijah wasnt satisfied with this. When she arrived home, he made her stab herself in the leg with her bread knife. He left her there screaming in pain.

When Emi told investigators that she knew nothing of his murder, his anger really sparked. He became almost of a solid structure. Things went flying at her. He made her stab herself numerously now. Emi was on the verge of going totally insane. Elijahs vengeance was so great, and he was so powerful compared to her. Emis abhorrence for this apparition grew. She didnt know anymore if it was in her mind or it was real.

Emi had taken enough. The next morning she resolved to take a walk down to see Officer Hatio. She would tell him everything. All day, she sat there rehearsing everything she was going to tell him. Elijah was whispering things into her ears, telling her what to say, and mocking her.

When Emi arrived at the station the next morning, Officer Hatio noticed how horrible she looked. In no offense to her, he told her exactly how bad she really looked. Emi broke down crying and telling him everything that happened. The officer called other officials and investigators into the room. They sat there questioning her for hours. During this time, Elijah was telling her what to say, making sure she wasnt lying about anything, or else he would kill her for sure. Petrified, they handcuffed her and took her to a cell where she awaited her trial, which was to be held sometime in the following week.

When the time for the trial came, Elijah backed off of her case a little bit. It took the jury a few days to condemn her. As she sat there in the electrocuting chair, Elijah said thank you, and left her. She definitely learned a big lesson.

Oh dearest! Wake up you little sleepy head, said Emis mother, Lukida.

Emi let out a giant scream. Her forehead was saturated with crystal beads of sweat. Her eyes were glossy, and her body was trembling as if she had just seen a ghost. Or had she? Mom, you would not believe the dream I just had. I cant even talk about it; it has shaken me up so much. But I do now that it has taught me the greatest lesson I could possibly ever be taught.

Well I dont have time to listen to dreams now anyway. I have to go talk to the police. Do you remember that old man down the hall, Elijah?

Yeah, said Emi, trembling a bit more.

Well, he was found this morning with a gunshot to the chest.

Emi let out the loudest scream known to mankind.

Drifting

It was a lonesome sort of night. I being the only one still awake. I was lying on my bed beneath my four blankets, as they are, one on top of the other, each and every night. Next to me, my tape deck sifting out Mozarts beautiful notes.

I was lost in a beautiful world all alone. Thats when the wonderful fairy visited me. Gently he took my hand and led me to the most soothing place I had ever been before. Surely it was a dream, but it all seemed so real. It was a place high above the Earths realms, up in the soft blue and pink clouds of a land only seen by those few others lost in their own little worlds. A gentle, whispering breeze was flowing around me, lifting my spirits. All around there were fairies prancing, and playing, and dancing. Why, they were dancing to the same Mozart music that had brought me here. Each one had a smile on his face. They enticed me to dance along with them. Oh how wonderful it was. It was a beautiful ballet where everything was so perfect and delicate. Could this be what Heaven was like? Even the warm sunbeams were so heavenly. But, I thought to myself, werent fairies always seen as evil way back when?

Wrong thought. Just then, I fell down a dark pit. Beethovens Fifth bashing my eardrums. I couldnt bear it. All around me, the steam and the flames flared up. They caused giant beads of sweat to rain down my face. Then I saw my little fairies. They were grinning as they dragged stolen souls and poured them into a large pool of hot, red lava. Some of them were carrying massive chains. Clink, clank. Little horns sprang up on their heads. Evil little things, I muttered under my breath. What was going on. Just one thought, and BOOM! Look where I was now.

I began playing Mozart in my head again, trying to drain out the hellish sounds. The beautiful brightness returned, and I was back in the wonderful fairy world of before. Such relief. I decided to keep pleasant thoughts in my head, for fear of returning to that dreadful underworld.

A new fairy approached me. He handed me a sparkling silver violin. The little guy beckoned me to play. Slowly, I brought it up to my chin, and took a hold of the bow. I began stroking the strings. It had the most wonderful sound. So open and colorful. I was painting murals in the sky with my music. It was the most pleasant experience ever! I was drawing so much attention. There was such an audience that I felt as if I were performing in a grand concert hall where only the best musicians in the world had played. The beautiful song rang out across the skies. Rainbows of all colors peeked out everywhere. The golden sun let out a chuckle, letting his cheeks turn a firey red. The moon even came out early, and showed a broad smile upon her silvery face. Everything was buzzing around me. I was lost in yet another world. I could keep playing forever and ever. When I ceased playing, there was a thunderous applause that seemed to arrive from every direction possible. Right, left. above, and below. The smile on my face was so big. I thought it was miles long. Maybe it was. Anything could happen here. Absolutely anything.

A huge celebration went on. The vocal group that began it had the most angelic sound. It was wonderful and light. It was so beautiful that it brought tears to my eyes. Warm, happy tears. Pastel fireworks leaped out everywhere. BOOM! BANG! More dancing, more prancing. Shouts of joy, yelps of gladness. Waltzes, jigs, marching bands, everything.

Was this really a dream? Drifting, drifting, drifting. Drifting away, I found myself back, again lying beneath my four blankets, as they are, one on top of the other, each and every night. Next to me, my tapedeck sifting out Mozarts beautiful notes.

Precious Sight

(this work is still in it's skeletal stage)

The last thing that Day ever saw was the bright light coming from the truck that had swerved onto her side of the road. There was no time to react, for it had all happened so fast.

It had been a stormy night. Day was driving back to her small home near the border of Texas and Mexico. It was the most severe dust storm she had been through. It had started when she was about half-way home, so there was no point in turning around. The visibility that night was barely a foot. The truck driver must have lost control for a second, and couldn't see where he was headed.

The truck driver's name was Pal. Pal was the nicest man anybody knew. He was a huge man, standing at seven feet. He was on his way to Mexico to deliver fresh water to a poor village. Yeah, he lost control and couldn't see Day's car in front of him. Pal, he only fractured a rib. But poor Day. She lost something that greatly changed her life.

Day's eyes opened. She had no idea of where she was. She only saw darkness and heard monitor's beeping around her. She began to shake violently. Day was terrified, and felt chills to the bones. She felt a pinch to her arm and quickly drifted to sleep. The nurse had no other choice but to tranquilize her.

Someone was stroking her soft locks of hair. She opened her eyes, not knowing if she was really awake, since it was still dark.

"Am I awake?" she questioned.

"Yes," a soothing voice replied.

"Who are you?"

"My name is Pal. I'm the truck driver who hit you," he slowly said. " I want to be of any help to you."

" I hate you! I hate you! Look at what you have done to me!"

" I know. I know," he sighed. " We have to learn to be kind and forgiving. At least you haven't lost your life."

"True."

"I want to make myself available to you. Let's try and become friends. I will help you get through this. Do you need anything now?"

" Just keep stroking my hair. I'm so scared," said Day with tears running down her blush cheeks.

"Don't worry. I'm here for you."

"Where will I go after the hospital? I've no family at all, just a small cottage five miles north of the border."

"Stay with me. I've not family either. A lonely young man I am."

And so, with the help of Pal, Day made a speedy recovery and was not at all scared of her new dark world. She could tell that Pal was a handsome young man when he let her run her hands over his face. Her other senses had taken a giant step forward at the loss of her sight.

A few weeks went by, and Day was adjusting very well to her new home and life. She began to fall deeply in love with Pal.

"Did God put me in that accident so that I could meet this wonderful man? Did he create that giant dust storm? Pal is like his angel from above for me," she thought to herself.

Pal was like her in every way. He had a small cottage like her. They could sit and enjoy classical music together. They could play violin duets that were so magical. He would sit close to her and read their favorite books. Pal and Day were clearly meant for each other. For her, it was like finding that last piece of her jigsaw puzzle that she always lost as a child. For him, it was like finding that special star in the sky that no one else has ever seen. They had both, at last, fulfilled their greatest childhood dreams.

They lived together for two years until finally deciding to get married. They had a small, simple wedding and since they both had no family, they invited a few friends as witnesses. It was the greatest day of their lives. Off they went, as husband and wife, on their honeymoon to Greece.

Pal brought Day everywhere. She even got to feel her way around the Acropolis. Greece was the most wonderful place she had ever been.

A year went by in their storybook marriage and their first and only child was born. His name was Aspen.

Aspen grew up to be a wonderful little boy. He had a full head of blonde, curly hair like his mother, and the soft green eyes of his father. He was very polite and helpful. Day and Pal taught him the violin at age three. By the time he was six, they were taking him to competitions all over Texas. His room glittered with plaques, trophies, and medals. It was a sight to him play. He would get so emotional and little beads of sweat always broke out on his forehead. Although his mother couldn't see him, she had some idea of what he looked like up there.

The family had gone to a Super Bowl and entered in a pool, betting that the Falcons would win 21-3. Well, surprisingly enough, they were right and won five thousand dollars! What to do with all that money?!

They planned it out soon. The family would go up to New Jersey to get Day some laser eye surgery to give her back the gift of sight. It cost two thousand dollars. When they went to New Jersey, they spent a few days at the shore, and then went to the hospital. The procedure was done in no time.

"You are both so beautiful!" Day cried. " I can finally see my husband and son!"

They rushed back to their Texas cottage and threw a small party for themselves in excitement.

"Sign Aspen up for a violin competition so I can see him play!"

And so, two weeks later, they were headed for Houston for a huge competition. After about five kids went, Day's beautiful son walked out onto the stage. He bowed and said, " I dedicate this song to my mother who can finally see the world again." And he then played the most beautiful concerto she had ever heard. It was amazing to see him play. His emotions shone through him so much, that it seemed like an angel was present inside him.

Maybe it was an angel. But, the angel of Death perhaps? Day had a funny feeling deep inside.

They were headed home after Aspen's first place finish, when a dust storm hit. Winds were so powerful, and dust so blinding, that it was hard to steer. The last thing Day saw was the bright light from the truck coming right at them.

"Oh God! Not again!" she screamed.

Three angels flew down from the heavens and grasped the souls of Day, Pal and Aspen. Their bodies were left, smashed in their little car. It was all over. And as Day's spirit lifted up towards Heaven, it moaned, "Why me?"

Some Dream

I flicked my head to the right and then to the left. My thick curls swatted my face harshly. What were these things?! Circling around my head, they are making my curious eyes dart around the small room.

Four walls surrounded me. Each one wearing a different color: red, blue, orange, yellow. Theres no door. Enclosed and suffocated, I sat on the object that strangely resembled a bed. Where could I be? What was going on? As I looked up, I saw no light; however the room was lit as if there were. Not only was there no light, there was no ceiling. Now I knew these things flittering around were coming from a place outside. But what was outside?

Too many questions! Shut up! said a voice.

Whos there?! I screamed.

Suddenly, one of those creatures zoomed up to my face as I went cross-eyed. It had a face with a clever look about it. A human-like face with the body of a dragon-fly! Never had I even imagined such a creation!

Who are you? Where am I? How did I get here? Where are you from? What are you? I asked frantically.

Shut up, shut up, shut up! it snapped at me.

I woke up to see a lone bright light above my eyes. As my eyes began to focus, I noticed bodies leaning over me. How strange. There were two right arms and one left arm, looking exactly like ours. Besides that, they looked exactly like humans. They were passing objects to each other and making statements in an unidentifiable language.

The room was so cold. I felt as though I were in a freezer of some sort. There was an odd feeling about. Something was wrong. This was way too odd. I was curious so my eyes started to peek around the room. I was apparently lying on a table. I started to discover some instruments. Surgical instruments! Thats what the people were passing to each other! Why would they need surgical instruments? I wasnt due to have any surgery. I lifted my head, or at least I tried. My head was separated from my body! How could this be?

Bang! Thump!

I woke up on the floor in a pool of sweat.

I must have had another bad dream, I said to myself. I really have to stop reading horror.

Two in One

The thunder crashed above, the lightening split the darkened sky, and the rain sliced its way through the thick air, battering violently at the windows. Tommy heard the loud whack of a belt against skin in the room next to him. It was his fathers thick black belt being smacked harshly against his older brothers lean body. His father was a horrid sight and Tommy associated him with pain in the same way that a calf associates its mother with milk. He stood seven feet tall, casting a dark shadow over everything that he passed. He was unshaven and dirty and featured a large brown patch over his blind left eye. Tommy remembered back to the fairy-tale stories he used to read in elementary school, and honestly believed that his father was a giant, man-eating ogre. Nothing but evil presided in this man; and it was as if the devil had come to Earths surface himself to haunt the young child. Tommys house had the perfect atmosphere for such an evil presence. A darkness loomed over the house no matter how much the sun struggled to peek in. On the inside wallpaper was peeling off, chairs were missing their backs, rats lived amongst the food he ate, and the ceilings leaked water upon his head. From the outside, his house was a deep brown with shingles falling off, shutters missing, and windows cracked. The lawn wasnt cared for, with the grass reaching extreme heights, and weeds overtaking the old gardens of yesterday. Although Tommy didnt face the physical abuse that his brother did, he faced the abuse of neglect, which he couldnt quite comprehend.

At home, Tommy lived in constant fear and anger. This was fear that he too would fall under the power of his father and become battered and weak. There was nothing he could do because Tommy knew that if he spoke out against his father he would have no where to go and nothing to support himself. The only thing that kept him in that house from hell was the fact that it was his father who kept him alive with food and shelter. Tommy felt extremely helpless and vulnerable, and acted as if he were just two years of age. He communicated only through such childish noises that one would hear from a toddler struggling to make words in order to converse with someone. Sometimes he would forget how to walk and begin to carelessly crawl around the house on his hands and knees, giving himself rug-burn every time. Actions like these were what defined his character at home. There was a baby existing in an unproportionately large body. It was his continuous fear that caused him to act in these ways. Seeing that his older brother was being beaten day after day, Tommy had the radical idea that if he could stay young, he would never fall into his brothers insurmountable situation.

Once he left his house, Tom emerged. Tom was a more mature young fellow, standing tall and proud. He appeared to function as any other child of twelve would. Tom lived a grand life at school, excelling academically, athletically, and musically. He was an A+ student, a key aspect of three athletic teams, including soccer, and a well-accomplished flautist. Tom embodied the "picture-perfect" student. Far from his home he was able to forget all of his worries and fears and lead a normal life. Anywhere away from his father was the promised land and the new world of days long gone in American history. Leaving home was his way to govern himself, and his way to lead an exceptional life. No one had any idea that little Tommy was still inside of him, just waiting and waiting to burst out. It was as if Beethovens Fifth Symphony was being played by a massive Romantic-era orchestra, smashing around and around in his tiny head. Pounding, pounding, pounding. How long could he take it? Each and every day, aside from his freedom from home, he suffered these hellish happenings in his head. Tom kept it in the far realms of his brain, trying so hard to ignore it. No human can ignore something this troubling for such a long period of time. Banging, banging, banging. Day by day, the sound became louder and more powerful. Hell was breaking loose in this poor childs head. Fate was bashing against his door. It was time to leave this world behind and begin a new life on the other side. Tom was ready to make his decision, and take the role of God. A better life awaited him, and his spirit could finally be let free.

Now was the time, time for him to prosper, to have the life that he deserved. He brought himself to a quite, and serene placed of solitude and left the world behind. A golden and angelic light shone down upon the lake where Tom bid his final farewell to hell.

3040

I reluctantly place my hand on the sensor to allow my entrance into my robot workshop and store. The breeze from a nearby open window tangles my hair and brushes my face as I step through the rounded doorway. My desk is in the back, far away from the front of my shop; so that I may be secluded enough to concentrate on my own work and allow my other workers to take care of incoming customers; customers ranging from little children dying for their first robot to elderly ladies that have wrinkles about their pale faces longing for a robot to aid them in their final days. I look down at my glowing calendar, which gives off this monotone buzz, much like neon lights in windows do, and the date reads August 14^th, 3040. It floats in mid air alongside my beetle black desk. A dim light shines down upon my head, hardly doing its job.

As a gust of wind gains entrance into my space, I think about how much time has flown by. Outside, I hear a distant bird chirp, or so Id like to think. A synthesizer now produces a sound that disappeared more than a decade ago. I look around and realize how advanced our world really is, but how it is much like the age of the dinosaurs, except this time, I, and my fellow human beings are the cause of such extinctions. As I peer around, the smell of metal and the dry heat rise up my nostrils causing a sharp and un-welcomed sting at the back of my throat. All this accompanied by a constant blabber of robots walking about my domain. They have taken us over, they have stolen our minds. There is no life on this planet anymore. They were right in literature from eons ago that this planet would destroy itself. It is still standing, but standing in the hands of machines.

Mushy Romance

James eyes slowly crack open and he peers at his blurry clock. Fifteen minutes! he shouts. Ive got to pick her up in fifteen minutes!

On the other side of town, Theresa washes her long curly locks of brown hair while humming a song of sweet love. The birds outside, seeming as though they are singing along with her in perfect harmony. She wraps a soft, royal blue towel around her small frame as she steps forth from the shower. Calmly, and ever so happily, she readies herself for the evening to come.

James, however, is frantic. He gathers somewhat matching clothes from his floor and tosses them onto his slender body. A wet comb runs though his hair at lightening speed and he is ready. Every other stair bears his weight as he pounces down them and flies out the back door. Waiting outside on his gray stone driveway is a beautiful, old and rusty, silver 1989 Toyota Camry. He quickly slips into the front seat and closes the door, causing the seatbelt to automatically close in on him. With a turn of the key, and a shift into gear, he is on his way.

The sweet sounds of classical music turn his car into a sophisticated machine on its way to pick up a beautiful and radiant young lady. As he is driving, he dreams of her crystal eyes and her twinkling smile; her sweet aroma and her dazzling ways. And suddenly she is there, and just at that moment, the Romeo and Juliet suite airs on his radio to make the moment ever so pure. This angel he sees is Theresa and she is approaching the car gazing so deeply at her James. He steps forth from his magical carriage and opens the fair maidens door to let her in. Taking hold of his hand, she seats herself. Upon his re-entrance to their carriage, they embrace and kiss true loves kiss as the Romeo and Juliet theme reaches its climax. They then drive off as the sunset beckons them on with open arms.