Tag: short story

“I love you a latte”

Most of the time, life as a barista is boring. Yes, we have rushes where things get a little crazy, but even that is boring. It’s always the same. People with fake glasses come in with their laptops, order a fancy drink, and sit for hours “working on their manuscript,” when in reality they’re just browsing Instagram. I have nothing against the hipsters. They tend to tip rather well. They’re just so boring.

It was a hot August day when he walked in. I was making someone named Ginger a soy latte, like she ordered every day at the same time. I glanced up and said “Welcome!”, and then I stopped.

Oh boy, was he beautiful. He was tall, probably somewhere around 6’5”. His hair was a dark blonde and brushed back in a clean, neat way. He looked up from his phone to smile at me, then looked back down. His eyes were a beautiful blue and his smile was dazzling. I felt my breath catch in my throat as I looked at him. He had never been in the store before, so he grabbed my attention. I continued staring until my co-worker Nancy nudged me out of the way to get the soy milk. I shook my head and continued working on the latte.

“Soy latte for Ginger!” I called, placing the drink on the counter. Ginger picked it up and dropped a dollar in the tip jar without even looking at me. I didn’t care because I was focused on the guy.

“Hi,” I said with a huge smile. “What can I get for you?”

He looked back up from his phone and smiled again. “Hi. Can I please get a large mocha latte?”

“Of course!” I plugged the order into the computer. “And what’s the name for the order?”

“Alex.”

“Gotcha.” I typed his name in and wrote his order on his cup. “Should only be a few minutes.”

He thanked me and went to sit down. I began working on his order, glancing at him every few seconds. He was sitting at a table rather close to the door. He pulled out a book and began reading. I squinted to see the title. “Gnomon” by Nick Harkaway. I made a mental note to pick the book up after my shift.

It wasn’t long before I finished his drink. I called “Mocha Latte for Alex.”

When he stood up and came up to the counter, I handed him his latte. Our fingers touched, and I felt warm and fuzzy inside. He put a five-dollar bill into the tip jar and I gave him a smile. He smiled back and turned to go sit back down. I gave a slight sigh and moved on to the next customer. Even though I was helping the other customers, I still kept stealing glances at Alex. He was just so handsome.

Then, a phone rang. I looked around to see whose phone it was, and it was Alex’s. I was currently working on a customer’s order, so I strained my hearing to know what he was saying.

“Yeah, I’m at the coffee shop. Do you want anything? Okay, then I’ll see you when I get home. Love you.”

My heart sank. He had a girlfriend at home. I finished the customer’s drink and called their name. I watched as he marked his place in his book, stood up, and walked out the door.

“There he goes,” I muttered and moved on to the next boring customer.

coffee, latte, love at first sight, meet cute, shop, short story

“In My Hometown”

This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not in our little town. It was supposed to be safe; one of those towns where you never needed to lock your doors. Everyone knew each other and waved as they passed by. It was supposed to be normal.

For me, it was a normal day. I was walking home after school with my friend Bethany. Most days we walked home together. Her house was on the way to mine so I usually walked part of the way alone. However, we had a science test coming up, so I stayed at her house to study. We studied most of the night, so her mom made us pizza for dinner. At about eight o’clock, I said I needed to get home. Bethany’s mom offered to drive me home, but I lived only ten minutes away, so I said I would walk. My parents knew I was on my way home, so everything should be fine. I grabbed my backpack and headed out the door.

It was a peaceful night out. You could hear crickets chirping and the fireflies were scattered in the grass. I was almost home when a burgundy car pulled up beside me. I didn’t think anything of it. People always stopped us when we were walking home. It was a safe town. What I didn’t expect was the woman to get out of the car and smile at me.

“Hello. My name’s Roxy. What’s yours?” the strange woman asked.

“I’m sorry,” I replied. “I’m not supposed to talk to people I don’t know.”

The lady smirked. “But you do know me. I just introduced myself. It would be rude for you not to do the same.”

Her logic, to my fifteen-year-old self, seemed sound. My parents taught me never to be rude.

“Annabel,” I replied. “My name is Annabel.”

Her next movements were a blur. I remember feeling a sharp prick in my arm, then I got dizzy and blacked out. When I awoke, I was in a dark room, tied to a chair by my hands and feet. I couldn’t see the woman anywhere.

“Hello?! I yelled, desperate for someone to hear me. “Is anybody there?!”

I heard a door open and footfalls on stairs. I couldn’t see who it was, as my back was to the stairs.

“No need to shout,” I heard the strange woman, Roxy, say. “No one can hear you.”

At her words, I began to cry. “I just wanna go home. Please, I won’t say anything, I promise.”

The woman laughed. “Yes, but I don’t really believe you. Besides, I’d rather have you here with me. You can be my little plaything.”

I didn’t understand what she meant by “plaything,” but it sounded ominous. She reached out and tucked a piece of my hair behind my ear. I pulled away, still letting out little sobs. I didn’t want her to touch me.

“Please…” I whispered. “I just want my mommy.”

“I’ll be your mommy now,” she said, tapping the tip of my nose. “You’ll be my little Annabel. Would you like to see your room now, Annabel?”

I nodded, sniffing. She untied my feet and then my hands. I stood, trembling, as she walked with me up the stairs, holding my hand the whole way. When we got to the living room, I stepped on her foot hard and ran for the door.

I got to the door with her right behind me. She grabbed my arm, but I lifted my elbow and felt it contact her face. While she grabbed her nose, I pulled open the door and ran screaming. I was surprised to see we were in the same neighborhood that I lived in, only streets away from my house. I could hear her running behind me, but in my panic, I ran as fast as I could. People were coming out of their houses and looking at me. I went up to the first person I saw and stood in front of them, panting.

“Call… 911… Kidnapped…” I managed to get out.

I looked behind me, but the woman was gone. I had run only about five houses down from where she was holding me. When the cops came, my parents were with them. It was about 6 am the morning after I had been taken. My parents held me as I told the police everything.

They went to the house that I was almost certainly the lady’s house. They found it empty with the burgundy car gone. They did find the chair and rope down in the basement, so they knew it was the right house. They also found, in a decorated spare bedroom, the skeleton of a little girl, about five years old. She had been dead for many years, and the police suspected that the girl was the daughter of Roxy, the woman who took me.

They didn’t tell me this, but I overheard them telling my parents. I began sobbing, thinking of what I might have escaped. But, to me, my town would never be safe again.

friends, hometown, kidnapping, neighborhood, parents, short story, walking home from school, writing

Playing Games

We were driving down I-95 on our way to Disney World. Yeah, it was a typical family trip, with my parents in the front seats and my little brother and I in the back. Even though I had my headphones on, I could hear the sound of his 3DS over my music. I pulled an earbud out of my ear and turned to him.

“Johnny, can’t you turn that down? I can hear it even with my headphones in.”

He glared at me. “It’s a boss level. I have to be able to hear it so I can beat him.”

My mom turned around from the front passenger seat and smiled at me. “Emma, can’t you just turn your music up a little bit? You know the music helps your brother concentrate.”

Yes, of course. Everything was about my little brother. It always was. He was diagnosed Autistic a few years ago, and now he gets to get away with everything. It just wasn’t fair.

“But mom,” I whined, shooting a death glare at my brother. “My music is already almost too loud. Can’t he just turn it down a little bit?”

“Be considerate. You know it helps him stay calm,” my mom said, turning back around.

I huffed and put my earbud back in. I turned the volume up as loud as I could, blaring Evanescence into my ears to wash out the sound of Zelda. At the same time, I was updating my Twitter for the tenth time today. This post read:

“Bored out of my mind. Brother annoying as always. When will this be over? #bored #annoying #littlebrothers”

I jumped at a loud cry from my brother. I took my earbud out of my ear again.

“Dude, seriously? Mom, do something.”

My mom turned around and gave me a look. The “mom” look. “Emma, you will just have to deal with it and be patie—–”

All I heard next was a screech of tires and my dad yelling “Oh shit!” We hit the back of the semi-trailer. I was wearing my seat belt, but my face slammed into the back of the driver’s side seat. I felt a secondary hit from behind as we were rear-ended. I felt the space where my legs were getting smaller as the car compacted. Once the noises stopped, I blinked and looked around. I could feel blood running down my head and a pain in my arm. I looked down at it and saw that it was bent at an odd angle; broken, then. My mom’s hair was covering her face, but I could see her moving a little. My dad groaned and turned around to look at us.

“Everyone okay?” he asked.

I replied, “I’m fine. Johnny, how are y…..”

I turned to look at my little brother, whose eyes were glassy and open. His head was tilted at an unnatural angle, his 3DS on the floor of the car with its music blaring. I reach over and nudge his shoulder.

“Johnny?” I said, my eyes tearing up and my voice going all wobbly. “Johnny, buddy, you okay? Talk to me. Johnny?”

He didn’t answer. He didn’t blink. He didn’t stick his tongue out at me like he normally would. He was gone. I felt like I was five years old again, scared out of my wits.

“Mommy… “ I said, tears streaming down my face as I looked back at my mom. “He’s not answering.”

My mom undid her seatbelt and turned fully around in her chair. I gasped as I saw a piece of her leg bone sticking out from under her jeans. She didn’t seem to care as she reached over and nudged Johnny.

“Johnny, sweetie, this isn’t funny. Sweetie, look at mommy.”

He still didn’t answer. He still didn’t blink. This wasn’t one of his games. He wasn’t playing around. He was… I couldn’t say it. I couldn’t admit it. Part of me wished that this was one of his video games and you get extra lives. I wanted him to pop up with a smile, telling us that he was tricking us. But he didn’t. He didn’t move. Wouldn’t move. Not ever again. My baby brother was gone.

brother, death, life, music, short story, sister, twitter, video games

“In a Moment”

I saw her from across the room. She was sitting at a table by the door, I was against the wall. We were both on our laptops and she was engrossed in whatever she was reading. I was only engrossed in her.

She was beautiful. Absolutely stunning. Her hair was as red as the sunset. Not that orange kind of red, but a proper red. Her skin was pale like porcelain and absolutely covered in freckles. They dotted across her dainty little nose and sprinkled across her bare shoulders. She was wearing a lovely teal dress spotted with flowers with tiny straps going across her shoulders. It was difficult to tell the color of her eyes from where I sat, but I imagined them to be the most beautiful green color. Not grass-green, but the sea green prominent in the waters of the Caribbean. Then, she smiled.

They say a smile could light up a room, but before now I had never thought it possible. Yes, teeth could be a bright white, but this was different. Looking at her smile made me not only smile, but I felt as if my whole body were as light as a feather. My heart felt as if it were aching, looking at that smile.

The next events happened so quickly that I couldn’t process them until later. A minivan, blue, crashed through the front windows of the café. They say it was an accident. The driver, a mother of two young children, was fine. A few bruises but she walked away. The woman I was admiring wasn’t so lucky.

I remember moving aside turned-over chairs and tables to get to where she was sitting. I found her on the floor, a massive cut in her head that bled profusely. I lifted her up, trying not to jostle her. I knew she didn’t have much longer, not with as much blood as she was losing from a wound in her stomach. In a morbid moment, I realized her hair, that I had compared to a sunset, was the same color as her blood.

“Help me…” she whispered, barely audible over the sound of the chaos.

“I’m here,” I replied, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. My hand came back covered in her blood. “What’s your name?”

She smiled slightly, that smile that broke my heart. “Mary,” she replied.

“Well, hello Mary. My name is Adam. You’re going to be just fine.”

The woman who was driving the minivan climbed out of her car and came around to where I was holding Mary.

“I couldn’t stop,” she said as I looked up at her. She was shaking and crying. “My brakes weren’t working.”

I nodded and looked back down at the beautiful woman in my arms. Her eyes, which were indeed a lovely sea-green, were staring up at me, unblinking. She was gone.

I was still holding her limp form as the paramedics arrived. They took her from my arms and laid her on the ground.

“What was her name?” a young, male paramedic asked me.

“Mary,” I replied, staring down at her.

I reached over and closed her eyes. I had just met the most beautiful woman I had ever known and lost her at that same moment.

“Goodbye, Mary.”

a chance encounter, description, short story, story, writing

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