Short Stories
The Old Beggar
It was a bright morning, around 8:30. I could smell the coffee roast from the kitchen downstairs. I never thought about whether I liked the smell, but I was used to it, I climbed out of bed and began to walk on my tippy toes with one foot in front of the other. I thought myself to be a ballerina of a sorts. Did the floor still creek? Yes, it did. But I still enjoyed the thought of being a sneaky ballerina. Well, I finally made it to the door, and I peeked out just a little to see the action. My brother and sister were outside my door prancing around like they were magical unicorns. They were older than me and twins of all things. "What's all the commotion?!", I said. Immediately they stopped and looked toward my door. My one eye that is peeking out just stares at them to see what they'll do. For a second, they looked at me with their mouths open from what they were playing and they dashed to my door, I shut the door to try to stop them from coming in, but they overpowered me, and I fell to the ground. They giggled atrociously and I said "No fair. There's two of you and one of me". "Well serves you right for trying to scare us", said my sister. My brother quickly agreed. While everything is silent, we hear a noise outside the window. "What's that noise?" said my brother. We all then race to my bedroom window, and we sneak a peek. We see an old guy walking through the neighborhood with a cup in his hand shaking it back and forth. I thought it was a strange thing to do. My brother says, "I think he's looking for money." In my mind I thought that would explain the sound, I mean the guy did look poor enough. He had black leather boots that looked rusty and jeans with holes. He had a black jacket to keep him comfortable and a long white beard but not the Santa clause kind. His was much more out of place and he had hints of black in it. He had a red beanie on to hide his hair. He continued to walk around making noise to grab attention but walking slow. My sister says, "I have a name for him." 'What?", I said. "I think we'll call him the old beggar.", she said. "Wouldn't his actual name do better?", I said. "Well, we don't know him so the old beggar will do.", she said. Immediately, he looks up at my window and we lock eyes, and we duck and hide.
The Road to Nowhere
It was winter and 6am so the sun had not risen yet. The air was cold and still. The stillness made the cold more tolerable and I liked it like that. The wind during winter months isn't too inviting. I stood outside waiting for a friend to pick me up. We were headed to a camping site to spend a few days in his parent's cabin that was just east of town. I would say we were best friends; we talked almost every day. I found humor in how sarcastic yet sometimes condescending he would be at times. We both would laugh after I mention it. It was the type of behavior normal people would stay away from because it leaves room to be manipulated. But still, I don't consider myself normal and I like to have a good laugh. While I was waiting, I went outside and wondered how there could be snow on the ground with all the global warming claims. On the news they make it sound so believable, but anything can sound believable if it's said in the right way. I heard the crackling of rocks, and I looked up. There he was pulling up in his grey pickup truck. I was too excited to notice he didn't say hello. He had a blank stare and when I got in the truck, he just said "hey". I replied, "hey" and took a deep sigh because the car was warm, and it was comforting. As we started to drive off and go down the road, there was silence. I though it unusual because we would always talk. There would be moments of silence but not from the start. He seemed kind of off and I started to wonder if he even wanted me to come anymore. I asked, "Are you okay?" He said "Yeah, just enjoying the ride while it lasts." At the time I didn't think too much of that response. We got about 40 minutes into our ride and there was nobody else on the road and we had the radio on. On the radio I could hear a radio host talking with a woman who lost her 19-year-old daughter. Someone murdered her and she was found in the woods by some hikers. I thought it was awful, and my friend turned off the radio after that. "Too gruesome", I said. "Yeah" he said with the same blank face and looking dead ahead. I heard the car start to slow down but we were in the middle of the road. The car stopped and my friend said, "I have to check something." He gets out and opens the door to the back seat. The door closes and he walks to the passenger side and opens my door. There's a knife in his hand and he quickly stabs me in my stomach. I scream, "Why?!". He says, "It's not you. It's for the thrill." He pulls me out the car and leaves me by the edge of the woods as I bled out. He didn't care about being caught it seems. The thrill was in his escape; leading the police to him only so that he could deny it. I thought that he must've done it to many girls before me. But it doesn't matter now because I'm dying.