Frankie Ortiz
Stories (2)
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Paradise Falls
Looking at the odometer, we’re probably going about 80 miles per hour, I slow it down a bit as I put my foot on the pedal. I catch my 7-month-old (at the time) Doberman’s silly, but happy face in the rearview mirror, tongue hanging out. I lower the passenger window on my right side, but Harley never really been much of a “out of the window” type of dog. Maybe she thought she was too good for it, or maybe it made her carsick to be standing close to the window like other dogs usually do. I look back at her and gave her a quick pat on her head before keeping my eyes back on the road.
By Frankie Ortiz4 years ago in Petlife
Lost & Found
The sound of cars zooming by the main road is the only break of silence out here. If the flashing headlights weren’t so bright, you couldn’t see where the lines begin or end. I walk on the edge of the path down to nowhere, teasing death with a simple nudge. The vibration of the wheels shook the floor beneath my feet. I look down at my right hand, holding a bottle of whiskey. I take a swig, with some of it dripping down my mouth. I wipe it off with my left hand, and notice my wrist, covered in dry blood. Two slits remain, open wounds but the bleeding has stopped. Ignoring the pain, I take another swig from the bottle, missing a step, almost stumbling onto the road beside me.
By Frankie Ortiz4 years ago in Fiction
