short story
Why you Shouldn't Eat Cookies in Summer
It was almost midnight — a balmy summer night with velvety purple sky and our mother star scratching along just barely below the horizon. Flickering fireflies were tumbling about among shrubs and trees. The perfect night to sit around a crackling campfire with friends, light chitchat, silly jokes and endless sharing of fond memories and stories. I could almost feeling the aroma of roasted marshmellows, potatoes and stick bread lingering in the air. Only — there were no friends. Lockdown. Even mild and vividly colored midsummer nights can give you a chill without company. But why not party anyway! If it was the end of the world as we knew it, so what? I sat on my terrace, and I wasn’t alone, after all. My dogs snore beside me and I was joined by my good pals Pinot Grigio and Cookie Jar. Cheers to the world!.
By Stefan Thiesen4 years ago in Earth
High in the Pine
Absentmindedly I labored my feet into the garage with a bag meant for the recycling bin. The side door to the trash and recycling bins was thin and at that time of year, little defense against the biting cold on the other side. I flipped on the switch next to the door and took for granted the warm light that hung over my right ear as I leaned out. My body was stubbornly attached to the higher temperature of the garage as I hugged the door frame and struggled to deliver the recycling without any commitment to my task. Turning back toward the warmth I heard a thud and screech. I suspected the source of the noise, turned off the warm outdoor light, and ducked behind the door. I opened it slowly to see what I could see in the darkness. A screech over my head came so loudly that I cowered behind the side door and closed it to thwart anything that may want to follow me behind it. I paused to listen and opened the door again. In front of me were the recycling and garbage bins and just behind that is the fence that separated our yard from the neighbors. On their side, the copper yard ornaments that looked like giant metal daisies were spinning slowly and things seemed quiet again. I looked around in the dark and the twin pines in the neighbor’s yard were still and constant. Their presence gave the impression of authority in the dark the way they towered above our single-story houses. I waited for something to break the silence and just as I was all but convinced that what I heard earlier was gone, I was answered two-fold. A screech from on high came sailing down to my ears and my mind went instantly to my little dog. An owl can carry off a small dog if it feels so inclined and while I don’t know how likely the possibility is, I had heard enough speculation on the topic to ignite my concern. For a moment I feared I had walked in on an active hunt but then I heard the other. A higher and fearful screech came from my level on the ground, but nowhere I could see. I ran inside and grabbed a flashlight. I could make out a silhouette high in the leftward pine and illuminated the shape. A white-faced barn owl looked at me. Shocked, I lowered my flashlight. I instantly felt like I had done something wrong. Not shameful but incorrect, like I robbed the owl his protection of night. I assumed the owl was male from his low screech and position on high, but I had no way of knowing. Of my knowledge of barn owls, which was not a lot, one thing I knew was that this beautiful bird was far from home. Something was wrong because he was not meant to stop in my suburban neighborhood. Hardly any mice to hunt and unless they preferred small dogs and cats, they were halted by circumstance rather than choice. The second answer from the silence happened north of where I was standing. A high and desperate screech sounded from the neighboring yard and my feet stumbled forward to try to get a view. I could barely clear a cheek over the solid wooden fence and I decided instead to climb the recycling bin. I was not prepared for what I saw. A lump of white and brown feathers lay on the edge of a dormant brick planter a foot from the fence that separated us. I wouldn’t have known it was an owl if it hadn’t screeched a desperate cry. This owl was in trouble for sure, one of her eyes was half open and she looked dazed. I could see no other injuries but I can only imagine what would have stopped her. Even so, her screech was not a cry for help but more like an answer to a question. I decided it was a female because of the pitch of her screech and nothing more. Perhaps I was looking for a parallel to draw between what I was seeing and what I was going through. I always did place myself in the shoes of the main character if it were a woman, without hesitation. She was plainly hurt and needed to be rescued. But rescue is a human idea and it occurred to me that any help I could bestow may be more of a hindrance than a solution in her eyes. However, help rang from above as the male screeched down to her and again, she gave a wounded reply. I became hyper-alert and was called to the present as I stopped trying to insert myself and thought. What does help look like from an owl? The owl sat high in the pine was at the best vantage point to observe and anticipate any movement necessary to protect her. He called down to her continuously, checking in and remaining steady with the best support he could provide. What I was seeing was behavior akin to love and care and protection and steadiness as best I could understand it from my human ignorance. My eyes welled. I felt the warning in his screech and a duty not to interfere. I did the only thing I could that did not prompt an inner battle and went to the neighbor’s front door. There was an old man living there with a deeply unpleasant wife. They mostly kept to themselves and my interactions with him did not go beyond offering him assistance when his car broke down in the neighborhood one day. I knocked on his door and informed him that a barn owl was downed in his backyard and not to let his dogs out. I asked if I could assist and find a rescue center or haven to call. He rubbed his chin and inclined to the ground and said, “They’re pretty tough birds, best let them care for their own. If they are still there in the morning, I’ll call someone.” I was surprised by his lack of concern but strangely, I trusted him. His age told my impulses to quiet down. His calm spoke to my anxiety. I still felt a pull in my chest but truly felt like nothing was the best thing to do. I looked up at the male swaying on the branch of the pine as the wind picked up and said a quiet prayer for him as he watched over her. I felt like I had seen the most sophisticated story play out in from of me without words or any pretext and walked inside my home with an insight I couldn’t yet identify with clarity. But I knew I had learned something. I went to check in on the owls an hour later and they were gone.
By Elizabeth Sweden4 years ago in Earth
The love of Wesley and Elma
It was a restful morning filled with a nice breeze and blowing trees, Elma sat on the porch of her yellow hand-built, house, she could hear only the early song of chickadees in the mysterious yet peaceful Boreal forest of northern Ontario. She began to watch for him, with her warm steaming cup of coffee, he usually came around 7:00 it was only 6:30 in the morning so there was no need for worry. She sat looking at the glistening white untouched snow, where she noticed were small footprints of a mouse and perhaps a rabbit she thought, then she saw a strange track in the snow singular and sly, she wondered what that could have come from but quickly let the thought pass as she was still focused on her coffee and waiting for the arrival of her sweet, soft, small friend. As some time passes, about 25 minutes, she hears the beat of a wing she instinctively recognizes swooping towards her, she quickly is filled with warm joy that you can see in her eyes as they light up from the sound of the soft wings. She smiles and whispers softly “Wesley my love” he comes and lands on the banister of her porch and gazes into Elma's eyes she feels a connection between them both, they’re not only friends but soulmates. She soon relaxes back into her chair and begins to discuss the morning she first asks if he had found any rodents then tells him about the tracks in front of her house that she had spotted there was never much going on around them but she liked life calm and peaceful with the often adventure. After discussing the morning although Wesley was unable to reply he would sit there calmed by the sound of Elma's voice they both loved each other in a deep friendship way. Finally, it was time to go on her walk she grabbed her toque and mittens, and off they were, through the walk she noticed new things that were not there the last such as the new small squirrel making his way through the forest, usually, they would not be running around but today was one of the nicer days of winter as it was only -20 Celsius, as she walked through the crunchy snow she looked up to see Wesley following her as usual, he came to rest on her shoulder when he got tired and then begin to fly once more. Soon enough they got back to the house and tired out she went to lay on her bed for a quick nap, she was 79 going on 80 meaning she was easily worn out. While she lay sleeping Wesley would sit at the porch watching for the danger he thought but really if anything nearly dangerous were to approach the house he would be too small to do anything about it, but he liked to think he would be able to defend Elma even if his life depended on it. An hour and a half passed and he was beginning to get a little hungry so he decided to go off in search of something to eat, as he flew through the air he spotted a small mouse marching through the forest, quickly he soared down fast piercing through the air in a split second he was down with the mouse in his claws while he ripped the flesh off the head and soon detached the mouses head from its body swallowing it, immediately he swallowed the rest of the body whole as well. He was now satisfied as the mouse was big enough to fill his stomach surprisingly. He began to fly back to Elma's house as he was flying he heard something it was a slight rustle then all of a sudden he heard a slight whisper sound slithering he heard then it clicked in his mind, a snake! Snakes meant trouble and he didn't like trouble. He started flying swiftly he flew as fast as he could flying towards the sound getting louder and louder but he came to the door and it came to him to realize that it was inside, with Elma asleep, though he knew snakes weren’t a big threat to human he still needed to defend her no matter what the danger was. He used his claws to open the door it was a fairly graspable door handle, he quickly but quietly went to find the snake, it wasn't making noise anymore but good thing he had great hearing because he could hear every slight movement made by this sly dangerous creature, he stood in the middle of the room waiting for the smallest sound to be made, then from the corner of his eye he saw movement he could see a red stripe he whipped his head around and saw it with its evil eyes it stared directly at Wesley, it angered him the intense unmoving stare, although he was bigger than the snake he wasn't sure if he could catch its slithering quick body fast enough so he stood there staring at it who was to move next who would make the first move of the battle it had to be him but then all of a sudden it quickly began to move, slithering faster than Wesley could see! It frightened him he flew up in surprise then dipped back down and flew straight towards the striped snake but surely enough it moved out of the way just in time to get out of the way of the shot Wesley was trying to make to attack him, there was no strategy he could think of to get the sly enemy in his grasp, then he thought he could use his powerful hearing ability to hide in the shadow of the rafters in the ceiling, he climbed into the darkest corner and waited, then the slithering slowly began and it was moving towards Elmas room this brought panic through his whole body he flew down without being seen by the snake and grabbed his middle section, violently the snake began whipping his entire body to try his best to get out of the claws of Wesley but Wesley grasped him tighter breaking through the snakes skin this made the snake whip harder hitting Wesley over and over whipping him in the eye biting his wing ripping it it was painful but he had to keep his hold tight, he had to be sure to get the snake out of the house and kill it he flew up and up through the sky until the house was merely a speck on the ground, he then let the snake go, the snake dropped and dropped then hit the ground cracking its skull dying instantly. Once Wesley saw the snake's unmoving body he was satisfied passing out and falling from the sky from exhaustion. Elma's face came into view, he didn't know what was going on, something happened he didn't know why he was lying on the table. Elma's eyes filled with tears of joy “Wesley you had me so worried, I’m so proud of you you are so strong” she had seen the dead body of the snake and his body sprawled next to it in red died snow from his wing, coming to more of a conscious state Wesley realized his sight was a little limited then he realized he was only seeing out of one eye his other eye had been patched by Elma. He was happy to be there with her and she was happy to have him they continued to live a safe yet adventurous life together.
By Jade Kozakiewicz4 years ago in Earth
The Four Seasons
Winter I’ve never been fond of winter. The sky is dull and the sounds are muffled by the snow that buries my roots. I am cold. My protection against the wind blew away in fall, leaving me exposed to the harsh pellets of hail and ice-laden winds. The only warmth I receive this time of year comes from the little family of raccoons that have burrowed by my roots; I can feel their heated fur against my bark as they sleep the day away. Farther up the tree is another family: squirrels, who have made a nest in my trunk. They spend all morning scuttering about collecting the nuts they've stashed, and at night once the raccoons have gone, they sleep, their gentle breaths lulling me into a slumber-like reverie.
By Katarina Meglic4 years ago in Earth
A Winter Day
A Winter Day Written by Anna Vesterby It was a crisp December morning when Aria awoke to the vibrations of her loyal companion, Orion jumping on their rickety wooden bed. Having adopted him months prior, the two had become inseparable. Aria was a slim girl, with cascades of ebony hair trailing down her sun stained skin. Her heritage allowed her skin to remain a golden brown if maintained in sunlight, an envy of those with paler skin who would burn to a crisp in comparison. Scars on her body eluded to past stories of hardships one could only imagine but with them came a sense of power and purpose. The scars were afterall, tales of all that she had overcome. Instead of viewing them as a sign of defeat, she allowed them to bring her character; with every scar came a story of strength and determination.
By Anna Vesterby4 years ago in Earth
The Dance
It had been a damp night. The air was thick with humidity of mid-spring. Tiny droplets of dew began to form on the grass outside, but all else was still and quiet. All else, that is, except for her. She had not slept a wink. Overwhelmed with concerned about the state of the world and humanity as a whole, she felt the urge to fight. Nevertheless, she was completely unaware of where to direct her strength. Unequivocally, her strength was dwindling and her concern heightening with every pause, every second, every breath.
By Deanna McCullough4 years ago in Earth
under Stone Moon
Clouds are forming like November spider silk. Webbed into grey waves, like Pacific surf crossed with arctic tundra. You’re soaring, seeing ribbed stratocumulus from above. You’re looking down upon them. I’m a small little one, wedged cozily between your feathers. Small enough that you barely notice me. We feel both small and large-
By Rebecca Canright4 years ago in Earth
Twin's Telling
My identical twin sister and I have always shared experiences that are completely unexplainable. My mother tells us of many incidents, like when we were both learning to walk. I was toddling around and stood up underneath a high chair and bonked my head. My mom testifies that I didn’t blink or cry at all but my twin was in the other room and instantly screamed out and began crying. Mom also said that since we could communicate that we had our own language between us. Mom said we would shut our bedroom door and not allow her in. She said she was always following us around and observing us, that we were so different than other children and our older brother.
By Lisa Colombe4 years ago in Earth
What remains of Her... (And us.)
It’s one thing to think about the future, and another to live it, I think. Should I explain that one? I suppose so. It’s about the year 2056, and the Earth is gone. For Us. It’s still there of course, the requisite 5 million years haven’t passed for the Sun in our Solar System to go supernova and truly swallow the planet whole.
By Keith Tanu4 years ago in Earth
Life 101: Cigarettes, Moonlight and Drama
Whoah...... s***!.....the whoosh from the wing flap flipped my hair up, I swear, the wing swept inches in front of my face and upwards at once...she must have been trying to catch something on the ground... didn’t she see me standing here?
By Kristin Ellis4 years ago in Earth
Soul Set Loose
The kinship entered into the villas interior. Around the central garden, five stories opened upward like giant steps of a pyramid, and each held a terrace as the architecture receded before the rising garden. Sweeping backward as the ceiling revealed open sky on each of the four sides, the sight of draped mosses refreshed Echecrates, ever since the days of his youth. The tiered terraces let sunlight in through the clear plexiglass dome above. A dome that would soon open as winter approached its end. For now, layers of additional sheeting extended from each terrace, creating a collage of coloured streaks as the 6 layer bubble kept in pockets of warm air.
By Warren Peidl4 years ago in Earth
