Kelly Retz
Bio
Unendingly in thought. Incessant need to create. Introvert. Dog Lover.
Stories (5)
Filter by community
Lost Echo
He never came back for me. Many days had passed and the dread that my fluff may be completely stripped from my insides before he returned, was growing larger with each passing day. Most had already succumbed to random animals in search of warm bedding for nests or dens. Occasionally a strong gust of wind would grab hold of any remnants that were spilling out and I’d watch as it danced about, momentarily giving form to the invisible breeze.
By Kelly Retz2 years ago in Fiction
To The Strongest Woman I Have Ever Known.
It has been four years since you left. Onward and upward as they say, though I think that saying is meant to have different meaning. I hope you know that I have not gone a single day without thinking about you. I began writing this letter in the first year after you passed, and I have added to it a few times since. I suppose it is a way to process it all.
By Kelly Retz4 years ago in Families
I'll Be With You Soon, Eloise
Very few are given the opportunity to know when or how their life will end. Believe it or not, there is a gift in that. Most wander through life like they have so much living left to do, so they pour time down the drain the same way they’d leave the tap on while brushing their teeth- with the jaded illusion that there is enough to waste. But when you are given a death sentence, you realize how wasteful you had really been.
By Kelly Retz4 years ago in Criminal
The Waggish Traveller
Albert brushed the crumbled dirt from the roots of a tree before turning to sit. The day was hot, and the shade was a welcome break from the beating sun. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and removed his derby hat to wipe the sweat from his brow. Dark curls fell to his forehead and clung to it from the moisture.
By Kelly Retz5 years ago in Criminal
The Monster
His mother died on a Wednesday. Many of the town’s people came to pay their respects, but most just offered a regretful nod, or offerings of food while keeping their eyes glued to Edgar’s feet. He was “inhuman” as he’d heard them say many times. His face was twisted and revolting, and most of the time, he spoke a language that was all his own. It wasn’t that he didn’t understand their language. He was quite astute. But they never saw that side to him. Rather they shielded their children’s eyes when he’d pass on the street and whisper horrid things to each other.
By Kelly Retz5 years ago in Criminal
