Strangers Lost [Short Story]

You lost? She blinks once. How drunk did you have to be to hear the moon? You deaf too?, the moon asks – but it wasn’t the moon – a boy was sitting on the roof just outside the window. She sticks her head out for a better look. The moonlit boy shrugs and sinks back into his beanbag. Cool place you’ve got here. He scoffs, Ah, she speaks. She crawls onto the roof with him. The boy didn’t seem to mind, she thinks. The side of the house they were on was nowhere near the nauseating yard. Underoath played from a tiny speaker nearby. She winced at the fact that she knew the band, let alone the song. She sits where it wasn’t awkward – where she thought wasn’t awkward. She stared at him, staring at the moon, before staring back herself. Stare too long and you’ll get moon blinked. She saw the boy smirk, or maybe she imagined it. Now, if only your taste in literature was as good as your taste in company. She shrugs.

The moon continued to tell tales to the two still strangers under her light. It spoke as it trekked the sky, but the sun wasn’t far behind. Though La Lune’s tale was far from finished, the book was about to close. The moonlit boy stands to pick up the tiny speaker. Hey, I was listening to that. The boy nods then shrugs. He steps around the girl and slips back into the window. Hello, goodbye.

© coversonyourbed

Word count: 250
The probable sequel, maybe. Read part one?

Strangers Lost [Short Story]

She swirled the soda in her cup and listened to the clink-clink-clinking the ice made against the glass. The music was blaring, but she was deaf to everything. This wasn’t her scene and she shouldn’t have gone before she stepped into the door. Right now, it’s like she had forgotten what it is to have fun. She convinced herself this was better than being locked up in her room – like she has been for weeks now. She looks up from her drink and starts to count the number of unsmiling faces in the room. Her eyes stop at a mirror one, she counts.

She stands and pushes through the crowd of strangers to get somewhere more tolerable. The yard was just as nauseating as the living room; she bolts back inside. She tries to remember whose party this was or who invited her out in the first place – she thinks she’s forgotten, or maybe she had no clue at all. Upstairs, she let her ears enjoy the muted version of the noise blasting from downstairs. She takes her time through the hall of picture-perfect, framed families and muffled, moaning doors, until she comes across one slightly ajar. The cold, night air greeted her as she pushed it open; the flapping curtains let the moonlight dance around in the dark room. She watched the moon peek in and out from behind the folds of the drapes. Before she knew it, she was at the sill, meeting the moon’s call. You lost?

© coversonyourbed

Word count: 250
There’s a probable sequel, maybe.
Read part two?

Sworn [Short Story]


She had him by the collar several hundred feet off the air. Her blue and gold cape flapping – a triumphant flag. His broken body hung limp by her grasp, he had one hand tightly wrapped around her wrist. The sworn enemies hovered like the anxious silence over the vast, dilapidated city.
     She poised to pull off his mask. “So” he starts, “is this how we go, Shining Star?”
     “Seems like it,” she couldn’t have hid the smirk behind her mask if she tried. She tugs at the Black Skull’s mask. Her jaw drops. “Clarence?”
     The bloodied and bruised man came to his senses. His eyes grew wide as he watched the Shining Star reach for her own mask. He didn’t have to wait. “Farra,” he whispered to the face of the woman he loved.
     Tears of frustration and confusion wells up in her eyes. The fear of him falling was now hers; she moves to embrace his limp body. The sworn lovers hovered like the anxious silence over the vast, dilapidated city.
     He scoffs. “This explains a lot,” his voice tired. “Is this how we go,” he asks again “Farra?”
     “Don’t get sassy with me, Black Skull,” she says sternly “or I’ll drop you.”
     He looks down over her shoulder, “You wouldn’t,” he says confidently. And she doesn’t. “I knew you were truth,” Clarence whispers to Farra, “truth I’d rather lose than to have never lain beside at all.” He pushes himself off her.
     The Shining Star watched the Black Skull fall; and she watched him stop falling.  If anyone would ask a hundred times if she thought she did the right thing, she would’ve given a hundred different answers. The sworn hero hovered as the anxious silence over the vast, dilapidated city that was as broken as she was.

© coversonyourbed

Word count: 300
Happy Valentine’s Day!

Stale Coffee [Short Story]

I wake up to sounds of him getting ready. Well, it’s not waking up if you haven’t slept a wink. I peek at my bedside clock; almost time for me to get up myself. Then, silence – he’s done. I could see him in my mind’s eye standing behind me.
     “Kate?” he whispers, doubting if he should disturb my nonexistent slumber. I get up to put my clothes on.
     “You know,” he hesitates, “I can always take a cab. You should get some more rest.”
     “I promised I’d take you and I will.” I say as I walk into the bathroom. I hear the wheels of his trolley roll out the door. Never was there a more depressing sight than my lone toothbrush in a cup where there used to be two.
     I walk into the kitchen. He doesn’t even look away from the window when he says, “I made coffee.” I pour myself a mug. It’s too watered down – the way he likes it. I set it half empty down his untouched cup. He finally looks at me. “Too weak?” he asks.
     I shake my head, “It’s perfect,” I say and down my cup. “We should get going.” He stands and we start for the door.

“I’ll call you when I get there.” He says as we near the airport. “Janna’s going to miss you at her party.”
     “I’ve talked to her, she knows I have work.” I say as I pull over to the curb. “You go have fun at your stag party.”
     He reaches to open the door. “Babe,” I couldn’t stop myself. “I’ll miss you.”
     “I’ll see you at the wedding, yeah?” He says to me as he gives me a big hug. He walks to the back of the car and I pop the trunk.
I dared not peek at the review mirror as he took out his bags. One of the things I learned was to never give that “last look” it makes goodbyes a lot harder. but as I drove away, I found myself looking at him wave goodbye through the side view mirror.

I did not look forward to going home from work that night. I walked into the kitchen and stared at the two mugs sitting at the counter, mine, completely empty and his, still full. I took a seat where he did this morning, stared out the window, and took a sip of his cold, watered-down coffee.
     “Three more days of this.”

© coversonyourbed

Word count:411
Happy Holidays!

Afternoon Sun [Short Story]

She put her fingers to the keys wondering if she had lost it. She lets a note ring; it was almost too loud for the deafening silence in the empty room.
     “See?” she thinks as she pushes down on a chord. “It’s just like riding a bike.”
     She wasn’t really surprised; she’s been playing for years and no day would go by without practice. She had just never played on this particular piano before, well, played like herself at least.

* * *

It was her first day in the senior high at a new school. She’s been used to moving around a lot, or at least that’s what she tells everyone. This time, however, she couldn’t help but feel completely out of place.
     She walks into an empty music room, that same afternoon, and slumps down behind the piano. She had just learned that the school didn’t have a school band or a music club she could join. She stared out the window and listened to the din out in the yard.
     The sound of a doorknob turning startled her. She turns to see a boy at the door.
     “Oh! E-excuse me. I didn’t think there would be anybody here.” He stammers, his face looking as surprised as hers. The boy walks toward the piano. “I’m usually the only one who hangs out here after school.”
     He sits beside the girl and turns the lid on the piano. He was smiling now. Without second thought, he starts to play Fiona Apple’s Pure Imagination.
     The boy seemed to have lost himself– forgetting that he wasn’t alone. The girl could’ve sworn it was the afternoon sun, but the boy’s face was brighter as he played. She wondered if she looked as happy as he does when she played.
     “That was wonderful,” she whispered almost accidentally as the boy finished.
     “I could teach you,” the boy offers. She stays silent but she nodds.
     And so, for the next three weeks, every day after school, she would come to the music room and “learn” piano from him.

* * *

Again, she plays a chord, and another, then intricate arpeggios and ostinatos.      Before she knew it, she was playing like she usually would. She keeps her finger on the last note. Then, silence.
     A clap almost made her jump off her seat. She turns to see the boy.
     “I-I thought you couldn’t make it today?” she asks, surprised.
     “I thought I couldn’t,” he says simply and walks to sit beside her.
     “You aren’t mad?” The girl asks guilty.
     “You want to know why I learned piano?” asks the boy instead. “On the last day of the middle school,” He didn’t wait for her response. “I had wondered into the music room and saw a girl at the piano. I watched as she played and thought that the only way I could talk to her was if I could play as well as she did; so I practiced all summer. Little did I know, however, that I had to move away before school started; before I could play for her.”
     “So you knew?” The girl asked, confused, “And I was that little girl?”
     “I had my doubts,” the boy answers, “until I saw you shining like the afternoon sun.”


Word count: 545

A friend noticed that I would usually write my first person narratives as a female character. So instead of indulging him and writing in a first person narrative with a male voice, I instead wrote a third person narrative, still with a female protagonist. Also, I did try to cut down the word count to at least 500 and I probably will in the future, but for now I can’t be bothered.

For some reason, while I was writing this, the song I imagined the girl playing Favorite Things from The Sound of Music.

We Might Be Dead Tomorrow [Short Story]

“99, 100” I counted in my head. “Ready or not, here I come.” I faced the inevitable. The afternoon light was the sand in my hourglass. Maybe it was I who wasn’t ready – I was the worst at seeking.

Mercurr ran across in front of me; her hair trailed behind her. She wanted him to stay as much as I did, probably more. She looked at me with her pleading eyes, and I understood. She looked up and watched the sands of forever fall.

Mercurr had pointed to the river where I saw Venusse. She stared down at the broken pieces of Echo’s heart. Her reflection had claimed her long before I found her. I watched as her last breaths surfaced the lake.

A mighty sobbing led me to Maurus. The setting sun had crippled his steadfast heart.

“If nine could become eight,” I could hear his thoughts, “what force could stop it from becoming one?” He did not want to be that one. I watched as he cried himself to sleep.

I would’ve never found Juno, but I wouldn’t have cared. We were playing a losing game. My soul had given up, and so has my heart, but my legs we’re unaware.

“I can’t go on wasting my time, because for all we know, we might be dead tomorrow.” She said before chasing after the sun.

I found Saturne next. She was seeking, but she had no reason to. I saw her look past the horizon and watched as her eyes grew wide. She had found him the same time her feet found the end of the cliff.

Not long after, I found Oranos; or maybe, he found me. His tears- the lightning to the thunder of his cracking bones- hit the ground first. I looked up at the tree that fell my oldest friend.

Neptenne stood at the foot of a hill. “Why is it that you are looking as if he was only yours to lose?”

I did not want to respond. She blew at the wind and it responded with an icy wave; signaling my expected loss. The sun was down but I haven’t finished looking.

“We lost,” I whispered to the far gone sun.

You lost,” a voice corrected.

I watched him disappear with the sun. I came to save one friend, and lost eight. I was the worst at seeking.


Word count: 396
The concept note for this piece has been sitting in my WIP folder since forever. It was initially drafted as a longer piece and I really don’t think it translated well as a short story. I named it after a song by SoKo.