Kirsten white
Stories (3)
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Runaway Reality
A screeching loud whistle jolted Anna awake. Taking a second to adjust to her surroundings she realized she had awoken in a very different location than she remembered herself being only a second ago. Anna gripped the velvety covered seat she was on, as the ground lurched forward suddenly. Everything was moving. Looking over to the left, Anna saw the hills and farms rushing past in the window. It was a train for sure. But how? Anna strained her brain trying to remember what came before. It came up with nothing, except a headache. Her hands reached up to her head as she confirmed she was real. This prompted another surprise as she looked down at her clothing. From head to toe, she was dressed with a decorative hat, fine leather gloves, and a tightly fitted Victorian gown. The restriction and tightness of her clothes became more confined and her breathing hastened. “What the heck?” No one else was in the small compartment of the train to hear her confusion. She stood clumsily and reached to open the sliding compartment door. Peeking her head down the narrow aisle she saw an attendant dressed formally in his black uniform and hat at the end of the hall speaking to another man dressed more casually but still in Victorian fashion. Anna withdrew into the compartment, closing the door gently. She surveyed the room and landed on a small carpet bag on the seat. Opening the bag fervently she looked for clues to determine what was going on. Only half convinced this was reality. The pain in her head told her it was real. Nonetheless, Anna was curious and pulled out a journal, a small green book, a coin purse, wax paper wrapped sandwich, a pocket mirror, eye glasses, and some papers. The journal was the first item to be investigated. Realizing the writing was blurred, she tried placing the eye glasses on and the writing instantly appeared clear. “I’m not far sighted,” she thought. This was getting more bizarre. She found a train ticket that identified the year as 1890 and she was on a train towards Denver.
By Kirsten white3 years ago in Fiction
Oh You Two
I called him pa. Only because it was an endearing way to tease him about his old age. He wasn’t really all that old when I started this jest but the name stuck nonetheless. We bonded over our shared sarcasm and dry humour. My mom always muttered, “oh you two” when we would go on with some macabre topic. Reality is we found humour in very deep and uncomfortable moments because we were realistic about our mortality. Pa was also a storyteller and like father, like daughter, I seemed to have followed this path. Of the many lessons pa has passed on to me there are a few pivotal memories that come full circle in both our lives. My memories of our summer adventures shaped me at the beginning of my life’s story and for pa it gave him comfort at the end of his life story.
By Kirsten white4 years ago in Families
