* Since I had to post a couple other things my count is off. So I'll try to catch up.
I'm doing
A Story a Day for May.
(Back:
Story 1 - Previous Story 4)
A triple whammy today to catch up. Here are stories 6-8.
Story 6:
Night Rider
by
C. A. Verstraete
She thought the cabbie was some kind of joker when he cautioned her as she got out of the cab. "Get inside quick. It's dead out at night," he said.
He had to be kidding, right?
Cowering in the corner, she listened to the shuffling footsteps draw near, daring not to look out, daring not to see if he was really telling the truth.
(c) 2013 C. Verstraete
* 64 words
Story 7:
The Birthday Party
Anna Smith had always disliked her ordinary name. People snickered
when she said her name, like she was making it up.
The joke became as old as Anna, who was looking forward to
the one big moment in her life – blowing out the candles on her 100th birthday
cake.
The newspaper people would be there. The nursing home was
planning a big deal, all in celebration of plain ol’ Anna.
It seemed wrong, cruel somehow, that Anna passed away the
night before her birthday party.
She would've hated missing her one chance to shine, to have
her name in the paper, the staff nurses said.
They busied themselves putting away the party things and
straightening up the room where the party was to be held.
No one paid attention to the scraping behind the door, or
the rattle of the doorknob.
The reanimated Anna struggled to turn the doorknob, anxious
to go to her party and have some cake. She grasped the knob the best she could,
wishing someone would open the door for her.
(c) 2013 C. Verstraete
Story 8:
What Had Been
Peeling paint decorated the walls like slivers of the past.
Pieces had fallen to the ground, giving it the look of
confetti.
The scene depressed Shanna when she let herself see what was
around her.
She preferred her memories of a gaily lit room filled with
riotous colors, women in long shimmering gowns and men in stately suits.
It had been beautiful – once.
Shanna’s sigh filled the lonely, abandoned room, sounding
like an eerie breeze, a sad echo of what once was.
(c) 2013 C. Verstraete