Short Story: Loved, Part 9

 We are now more than halfway through! Yay! Sorry it's so late, but it's still Monday for another hour. And you still have a whole week to read this until part 10 is posted. If you missed the beginning, fear not! You can find it right here.

“Where is she?” His voice thundered through the halls. Even the floors could be felt shuddering beneath his wrath. Rebekah cowered in a shadow behind the door she had just slipped in. She didn’t want to come back, but where was she to go? She had not been expecting a hunting party. The painted man had brought his posse, and they were scouring the house for her.

            “She’s a beast, I tell you! A beast!” His voice screeched with an inhuman passion. A short man behind him laid a hand on his back.

            “Calm down. We’ll find her.”

            “The world needs to know what she is!” he wasn’t listening. He was drunk with rage.

            “Why?” said a small man in the back of the crowd. The room went silent. Every head turned to stare at the questioner.

            “Because they deserve the truth!” he yelled into the man’s face. “The truth is that she is not what she seems. She is a horrid, ugly creature. And I will not let her deceive them into thinking she is worthy.”

            The painted man was not used to feeling out of control. He was not used to having his reputation in danger. But the face the girl now bore could destroy his pretense of having everything every man ever wanted, and he could not let that happen.

            “She must have run away,” the short man offered. The painted man gathered his emotions.

            “Ok,” he breathed. “Let’s go.”

Short Story: Loved, Part 8

I suppose I shall have to make these weekly readings a bit longer, so that my long short story does not take as long to get to the end of. I'd estimate that if you finish this week's reading, you will be halfway through! Congratulate yourself. :)

The darker side of the city was more expansive than Charlie had realized. It had been a week, and he wasn’t even sure if he was going about this the right way. How did he even know she was still in this city?

            He had been walking into every shop and building near the alleys where he had first spotted her.

            “Do you know a girl named Rebekah?” he asked.

            Some people stared at him oddly, some just slammed the door. Some pointed out a different Rebekah, some offered him drugs. One even thought he was an undercover cop and tried to shoot him. Charlie hadn’t shown up to work in three days. His search for Rebekah was his lone pursuit.

Short Story: Loved, Part 7

Because I am a writer, I must always write something before I post my story. You may skip it over, but I will pour out my heart for those who care enough to actually read what I write!!!

Have I made you feel guilty?

Apologies. That was a tad dramatic.

Let us continue.

Short Story: Loved, Part 6

It feels like summer! It feels so much like summer now! I could just close my eyes and stand under the warm rays of light that are pouring in the window and think that it really was summer. And then I'd get excited, run outside without a coat, and realize there's still mounds and MOUNDS of snow.

But it's melting. And it's sunny. And it's going to snow again. But let's not think about that. Let's focus on SUMMER!

Because just like Mondays, and tax season and dentist appointments (I had one of those today), SUMMER also comes with alarming regularity. And so does my story of the week. (I'm so much better at this than I was at recipes of the week! Probably because it's already written!)

Find a cozy spot in the sun (inside) and sit down for a read of part 6 of the short story Loved.

Short Story: Loved, Part 5

Things constantly change. Life never seems to go as planned. BUT...in the midst of all life's uncertainties, some things are certain. 

So here you go.

As promised, every Monday, without fail (I hope!) is a new part of my short story, Loved. At least until I run out of story. Then your Mondays will once again be filled with uncertainty.