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Text of the page (random words):
d she would have a little herb garden there were a few paths into the forest one of them led to the little methodist church on the other side of the hill it was a very small church and i often wondered how people could fit into it there was another one that ended at a brook and it intersected at another one which i wasn t sure where it led it was all the callahans property though and i was sure i hadn t seen any evidence of a witch along the two other paths so i led mattie to that last one that i didn t know too well as we walked under the canopy of the trees i pointed out that the leaves of the blackberry plant looked very similar to poison ivy but they had five leaves on a stem whereas poison ivy had only three what if someone tore off two leaves from a blackberry mattie asked just don t touch it anyway have you ever touched poison ivy no but mom did once was she okay no she s really allergic to it are you allergic i don t know why not because i ve never touched it have you ever seen a bear yeah really at the zoo oh but not here no the path was familiar but once we reached the brook i didn t recognize it anymore i crossed over the log that was a little bridge but mattie wanted to take her shoes off and wade in the water we waded for a long time and splashed each other as the sun rose higher and became warmer we found a small clearing and laid out the blanket and i pulled out the sandwiches mattie had brought her stuffed rabbit named mr chonkles and she set him down with his own little plate and napkin around his neck he was a gift from her real mom it was a sunday afternoon when her mom had come to visit i had been sitting in the shade shelling pecans with my mom mattie s mom had pulled up in a car even more beaten up than our red toyota her pale skin was covered in mismatching tattoos and she was really skinny almost like a skeleton she had short dark hair and had carried mr chonkles under her arm she d gone into mattie s house and later came out loudly arguing with granna she d gotten into her car and driven away mattie didn t talk about her but she often carried mr chonkles everywhere he had droopy ears and kind eyes that stared blankly into space as mattie fed him pieces of sandwich i lay on my back face warmed by the sun my stomach full of food mattie lay next to me her eyes were closed and she breathed deeply do you think we ll find the witch she asked she seemed sleepy the sun was quite warm and the forest smelled fresh and alive i could hear the gurgling brook and a bird sang above me i wanted to find the witch for mattie s sake but even if we didn t my map of the forest was turning out quite nicely i saw mattie was asleep so we napped for a little bit in the sun we followed the path for a while until it brought us out to the other side of the hill and we saw the methodist church there were no cars in the parking lot so we tiptoed up to a stained window with a dove lit by bright yellow sun rays and peered inside there were pews and a pulpit and beautiful flower arrangements i don t think a witch would be near a church mattie said i guess she isn t in the callahans forest then i said mattie looked out beyond the methodist church to the wild unknown of the hills there were bales of hay in the fields and a tractor parked near the road an amish buggy slowly made its way down the road at the bottom of the hill it s really big out there mattie said yeah does it scare you a little it was dusk when we crossed across the callahan s fields again i was hungry and tired and my socks were damp inside my boots as i had put them on while my feet were still wet from wading in the brook mattie grasped a bunch of wilted wildflowers in one hand and her face was smeared with dirt i knew she was disappointed we hadn t found the witch or any evidence of her we hadn t even seen the cat today but she was also tired as was i darkness had fallen when we climbed out of the ditch and i accompanied mattie to her porch her grandfather wasn t sitting there but i could smell traces of leftover cigar smoke the kitchen window was lit and i could hear the radio and mattie s granna s voice talking over it the words unintelligible the porch light of my trailer turned on i looked back across the ditch to see that the red toyota was parked there with the riding lawn mower nearby mr lu from across the street had been supposed to come last week and teach me how to mow the yard but he d been sick mattie was going to leave for her cruise tomorrow and it would be quiet around here if mr lu didn t get better i would have to learn how to mow the yard myself while mom was at work trying to save up for that trip to the beach mattie s grandfather would sit on the porch smoking and flipping through magazines in the heat of the dry summer sun maybe when mattie was back her mother would come again looking even thinner and closer to death but at least she might bring a new stuffed toy for mattie summer would turn into autumn and mattie would start school and i would hold her hand at the bus stop and show her where her classroom was i would help her with her reading and math and teach her to read her fairy tale books by herself hey reggie mattie tugged at my shirt bringing me back to the hot night and the wet socks in my boots you ll tell me if you find the witch right there was no witch only an overgrown yard and old firefly jars on the porch railing i looked at mattie we stood in the golden halo coming from the porch light and she looked almost feline herself the way the light shone through her light green eyes and her black hair framed her face a few fireflies drifted in the air behind her beyond which were the fields and woods where a little black cat with a pink collar roamed okay i ll tell you i promised share this share on facebook opens in new window facebook share on x opens in new window x share on pinterest opens in new window pinterest email a link to a friend opens in new window email more print opens in new window print share on tumblr opens in new window tumblr like loading creative writing stories eng 344 school short stories short fiction piece the only train february 23 2021 victoria evangeline 6 comments the only train at 5 15 p m every weekday talat would hang his chocolate stained apron by the back door and grab the ring of keys to lock the front door that had been frau keller s responsibility but she had begun going home earlier after her visit to the doctor talat would close the blinds in front casting the pastel pink walls of the chocolate shop into darkness he d lock the front door and go out the back his bike would wait for him nearby and he d cycle down the street in the light of the late afternoon or in the twilight of evening depending on the time of year in the summer he would take the long way through the park and pause by the pond to watch the ducks sometimes he d bring bread to feed them and children would watch him curiously he would smile at them and wish he could tell them that they could have some bread too and that they could join him he didn t have the words yet for the past few months he had taken the fast way as twilight had set earlier and the cold air made his eyes water but today for the first time in many months a few rays of golden sunlight glistened on the last frost the minister s wife had come by the chocolate shop this morning and had told frau keller that her apple trees already had buds and that soon the gardens would be blooming he took the fast way down the street take a right past the shoemaker s and take a right again park the bicycle at the lamppost in front of the pub at 5 30 p m he would enter the pub and buy dinner for two it was always lottie who worked the counter at this time she had pretty red hair that bounced as she bustled about and her eyes sparkled with laughter when she greeted the patrons the way she laughed with her words and the way they fell out of her mouth so gracefully it was as if language had been created for her and her alone even though talat s ability with the language had been improving he still felt too shy to speak around her she had the two steak pies wrapped on the counter ready for him good evening she greeted brightly hello talat responded carefully his quiet voice was lost in the din of the pub she said something perhaps a light joke which he did not understand he laughed lightly in response you should come later she said as she counted out his change there will be music or musicians he didn t quite understand okay thanks he would love to and he enjoyed music very much he could also tell her that he enjoyed her presence and wanted to get to know the others who frequented the pub he could write a poem about it in his own language not in hers so he left at 5 45 p m every weekday he parked his bicycle behind the train station the sunlight was long gone and the streetlights threw reflections off the wet pavement he ascended the steps to the tiny platform warm light came from inside the ticket booth where the clerk chewed on toothpicks and played solitaire all day talat would sit on one of the two benches the wrapped steak pies next to him and wait sometimes the spotted stray dog would come by sometimes a bird would hop across the platform sometimes a farmer would come and share a cigarette with the ticket clerk and every day at 6 00 p m the only train would come it would huff and puff and slow into the station and all the little doors would open talat would wait but no one would disembark no one he was waiting for anyway no one would board either and the train would pull away whistle blowing into the night tonight the little doors swung open and mrs ellington stepped down she had boarded the train two nights ago in a hurry her sister was giving birth he thought the minister s wife had said to frau keller this morning she gave talat a look from under her hat with the big feathers the same look she gave him every time she saw him on the street at the corner store even at church in front of the minister once the minister had noticed and sighed she hustled off the platform not even bothering to bark at the ticket clerk to carry her suitcase for her the stairs creaked as she left every day talat would wait until the train pulled out and then keep waiting as the night grew darker and quieter as did his own thoughts you sure they coming son the ticket clerk stood nearby smoking alone they come they will talat said the ticket clerk grunted you been waiting a while yes why are you smoking alone he wanted to ask where is your friend why does no one ever come on the train they sat in silence and in the cloud of smoke from the cigarette at 6 10 p m talat would leave the train station but today he sat until the clerk returned inside his booth and pulled out his cards still carrying uneaten dinner for two talat returned to his bike and walked it down the street and back into town at 6 25 p m he would be home he would eat his dinner and listen to the radio he would struggle through magazines trying to learn new words and he would eventually turn off the light and go to bed his way back home took him by the pub from inside he heard the sound of instruments being tuned laughter he stopped on the pavement outside letting the warm light of the pub s interior shine on him lottie was inside pouring glass flagons to the brim with beer and laughing brightly at 6 00 p m tomorrow the only train would come and no one would get off he would go home and eat dinner for two that had gone cold lottie looked out the window and met his eyes she waved with excitement and beckoned him inside at 6 00 p m tomorrow the only train would come but tonight the band inside was beginning to play share this share on facebook opens in new window facebook share on x opens in new window x share on pinterest opens in new window pinterest email a link to a friend opens in new window email more print opens in new window print share on tumblr opens in new window tumblr like loading stories writing eng 344 school short stories and in the waiting april 11 2020 victoria evangeline leave a comment via unsplash in this silence we wait we sit in the waiting hearts yearning for a glimpse a glimpse of the after a glimpse of the day when the darkness is past a glimpse of eternity perhaps does the very breath that gives us life not hold eternity in this silence we wait the sound grieves it grieves as the voices of the weak are muted the cries of the oppressed go unheard we have voices where are you the sound asks in this silence we wait the skin on our hands is dry and cracked we sit silent and unmoving made of marble and cracking beneath the weight of this world will molten gold flow between our cracks and mend us can we be whole again can the world become whole again in this silence we wait there is a promise that eternity will burst from our hearts and flood this broken battered world a promise that every unheard voice will cry out and echo from one end of the earth to the other that our bodies are not crumbling marble and tarnished gold in this silence we wait and in the waiting we remember share this share on facebook opens in new window facebook share on x opens in new window x share on pinterest opens in new window pinterest email a link to a friend opens in new window email more print opens in new window print share on tumblr opens in new window tumblr like loading musings easter god me blogging again it s more likely than you think quarantine rage rage against the dying of the light december 31 2019 victoria evangeline 6 comments i wish my new year s eve could be like a firework i wish i could have a big celebration surrounded by friends an family music dancing food foaming champagne i wish i could finish the decade with a bang and face the new year with fierceness and bravery like a large loud firework that splits the air and explores into a million colorful sparks showering the ground below a bold statement a memory forever burned into my memory a battle cry against every evil thing in the world that tempts me to give up but my friends are far away scattered across every time zone imaginable only a couple members of my family are home i ll be writing up my late christmas cards maybe i ll find time to play some video games my mom wants to watch netflix once she finishes making dinner then we ll watch a movie snuggle under a blanket eat popcorn drink tea as the fireworks outside shatter into a shards of light in the darkness i wish i could make it more i wish i could make it something to remember but maybe this is the boldest thing i can do choosing to love to laugh to cry to eat and drink to sleep to feel maybe that s a celebration maybe simply existing is the fiercest battle cry against the darkness i ll be eating food watching netflix nursing a headache cleaning my room as the clock strikes twelve i won t tell the new decade i m ready for you i ll show that i m ready i won t be a firework i ll be a sparkler fizzling an...