Here are the links:
http://www.shortstorybook.net/2010/08/02/eternal-lives-short-contest-story/
http://www.shortstorybook.net/2010/08/10/dreams-come-true-short-contest-story/
Eternal Lives
I see him in his rocking chair, under the cool shadow of
the cherry tree we planted ten years ago. Eyes closed,
a smile on his lips, he’s doing what he loved doing best-
listening to the wind rustling the woods surrounding our house.
Grandpa’s ears, always alert, pick up the sweet music of the dry
leaves crunching under my feet. Looking at me he grins.
I feel like a six year old all over again, making little paper boats
with him by the lake.
I sit at his feet, leaning towards him, laying my head on his lap.
I open my mouth to tell him how much I love him,
how sorry I am that I couldn’t tell him all those years ago..
but no words come out. I try again and again.
But they freeze in my throat…
Suddenly, I hear grandpa say “I know”.
My eyes rise to his. He is still smiling,
the molten brown of his eyes swirling hypnotically,
as if he could see right through my soul.
That my thoughts are in disarray
as images from the past dance before my eyes like
a surreal slideshow. I’m sure he can see it, too-
grandma kissing me for the last time,
me arguing with my parents over going to the UCLA,
me blushing beet red as Scott kissed me that first time,
me squabbling with him..
I turn to grandpa wanting to tell him how I mess up
my emotions and my relationships, and withdraw into the
deepest corners of my soul at the first sign of crisis. How,
no matter how many times Scott tells me he loves me,
I just smile back at him, how it’s so difficult to hug mom and
tell her that I appreciate all that she does,
how I don’t share my secrets with dad anymore..
and if this is what growing up is all about,
I wanted to be a child all over again!
Another “I know” hangs in the air.
He takes my small hands in his big, wrinkled ones, and looking into
my eyes he says “Break down those walls Emma, they’re no good”
Before I can react, he slowly vaporizes into thin air.
Huge tears dampen my cheeks as the import of what happened sinks in.
I get up and walk towards the house, drying my tears
and let the night air, still warm from his presence, soothe me.
Scott is waiting at the door. He comes over every day
so that I don’t get lonely, with mom and dad
away. Smiling, I run up to him and hug him,
whispering a heartfelt “I love you” in the process. He hugs me tighter.
I decide to call my parents tonight, and tell them how much
I love them. Sofie, my little beagle, is nudging my feet. Scott picks her up
and we go into the house together.
It must have been an illusion. It couldn’t have been grandpa.
He died 6 years ago, “Damaged kidney” they’d said. But the voice was
His, those eyes, that knowing glance…
I turn back to join Scott at the dinner table, and something grandpa once said comes back to me
“People live forever in the hearts of those that love them”
It makes sense. It does.
Dreams Come True
I wake up with a start. It had to be a nightmare.
How else can I possibly explain it?
Dazed, I glance at the clock that says 4am.
Waking up in a sweat,night after night,only to curse the dawn can’t go on any longer.
I snuggle under my sleep-warmed quilt and my hand reaches out
to stroke the cold half of the bed-Empty since the last seven months.
All I want to do is curl up and weep.
How else can I possibly explain it?
Dazed, I glance at the clock that says 4am.
Waking up in a sweat,night after night,only to curse the dawn can’t go on any longer.
I snuggle under my sleep-warmed quilt and my hand reaches out
to stroke the cold half of the bed-Empty since the last seven months.
All I want to do is curl up and weep.
But the tears have all dried up, sucked out from me by the same dark
angel that crushed his skull to unidentifiable pieces that evening.
I feel cold inside, without the emotions I'd gotten used to.
No rage, no love, nor any frustration to fall back on,
not even the dark solitude that despair brings.
As if they've all slowly trickled out and dried up, vanishing into the past.
Have things really come to this, or is it just a passing phase?
But there are no answers.
The sky outside is still dark.
A lonely starless night is all that stares back at me.
The scars are all healing now, as if to remind me that it was all real.
My fingers lazily circle my belly
angel that crushed his skull to unidentifiable pieces that evening.
I feel cold inside, without the emotions I'd gotten used to.
No rage, no love, nor any frustration to fall back on,
not even the dark solitude that despair brings.
As if they've all slowly trickled out and dried up, vanishing into the past.
Have things really come to this, or is it just a passing phase?
But there are no answers.
The sky outside is still dark.
A lonely starless night is all that stares back at me.
The scars are all healing now, as if to remind me that it was all real.
My fingers lazily circle my belly
a small smile playing on my lips.
Though short lived.
Dan who always told me I thought too much
Dan who always told me I thought too much
was so wrong..
What is the past to me, you ask?
It's no more the book I loved to go back to in times of doubt and pain.
More like a bottomless lake that I can’t swim out of.
Why doesn't it matter anymore?
I look at the clock, 4.15 am
And I thought I could cheat time.
I close my eyes.I have never felt this helpless before.
Or this lonely.
If only I could rewind the reel a little and
cut and paste “happiness” into my diary!
The phone rings. I know it’s mom.
She’s now calls me up every day.
I answer all her questions patiently..you know how it is with mothers…
I smile sadly, we never got around , in all these years,
to talking about our feelings, never even tried.
What is the past to me, you ask?
It's no more the book I loved to go back to in times of doubt and pain.
More like a bottomless lake that I can’t swim out of.
Why doesn't it matter anymore?
I look at the clock, 4.15 am
And I thought I could cheat time.
I close my eyes.I have never felt this helpless before.
Or this lonely.
If only I could rewind the reel a little and
cut and paste “happiness” into my diary!
The phone rings. I know it’s mom.
She’s now calls me up every day.
I answer all her questions patiently..you know how it is with mothers…
I smile sadly, we never got around , in all these years,
to talking about our feelings, never even tried.
And now, it’s too late…
I walk up to the kitchen .
and heap two spoonfuls of it into my cup.
I had given up drinking coffee for the baby
No sugar for me. Not anymore.
As I wait for the milk to boil, my thoughts drift back, inevitably ,
to the vivid nightmares I have been having
for over 6 months now
A woman, heavy with child,
lying on the floor in a pool of blood ,
a table lies ,upturned, a few feet away.
Her face is always veiled by her long hair.
Sometimes she moans, shivers and hugs herself as though the grief was too much to bear.
Sometimes she just lies there, unmoving.
But the blood is always there.
I reach up to touch my cheek and the scar that was left there by some invisible hand of fate, but all I can feel are the tears falling down, unheeded.
Because, today she looked at me in exactly the same way I did
at my blood-stained hands that horrible morning.
And before I could escape to the safe world of the living,
a tortured plea for help broke free from the depths of her soul.
No sugar for me. Not anymore.
As I wait for the milk to boil, my thoughts drift back, inevitably ,
to the vivid nightmares I have been having
for over 6 months now
A woman, heavy with child,
lying on the floor in a pool of blood ,
a table lies ,upturned, a few feet away.
Her face is always veiled by her long hair.
Sometimes she moans, shivers and hugs herself as though the grief was too much to bear.
Sometimes she just lies there, unmoving.
But the blood is always there.
I reach up to touch my cheek and the scar that was left there by some invisible hand of fate, but all I can feel are the tears falling down, unheeded.
Because, today she looked at me in exactly the same way I did
at my blood-stained hands that horrible morning.
And before I could escape to the safe world of the living,
a tortured plea for help broke free from the depths of her soul.
The milk has boiled over...
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