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Stories
3
Chapters
44
Words
81.7 K
Comments
0
Reading
6 h, 48 m
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I say crossly to the letter in my hand, “If I knew what all my thunder and lightning were telling me, I wouldn’t have asked you for advice!” Maybe Dante was sent to prison for being criminally irritating. With a sigh of frustration, I slap the letter down on my desktop and stare glumly out the window into the rainy afternoon. More damn rain. It’s like the weather is in on some evil plot to drive me even nuttier than I already am. It’s been two weeks since I’ve had contact with…-
79.3 K • Ongoing
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Dear Kayla, You asked if I have words of wisdom for you. The answer is yes. Here they are: You are not controlling the storm, and you are not lost in it. You are the storm. I’d love to take credit for that, but it’s from a writer by the name of Sam Harris. He was arguing that free will is an illusion, which I’m sure you’ll agree is a thoroughly depressing idea. Bypassing the dour philosophical stance, however, I really like the perspective that chaos isn’t outside us. It’s always…
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79.3 K • Ongoing
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Dear Dante, I hope this letter finds you well. I’m not so well, myself. Actually, I think I’ve blown past unwell and landed squarely in Crazytown, USA, where I’m currently running for mayor. Have you ever felt like your life is out of your control? Like there are unseen forces pulling the strings, and you’re just a puppet dancing around helplessly, getting jerked this way and that? That’s how I feel. Helpless. Lost in a storm. Also more than a little pathetic because the only person I…
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79.3 K • Ongoing
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“Kayla? You okay?” Aidan glances over his shoulder, following my gaze. I turn back quickly to the table and force a smile. “I just thought I saw someone I knew.” It isn’t a lie. And it’s not as if I’m going to sit here and admit the someone I thought I knew may or may not be a ghost, so I’ll just keep this stupid smile on my face until my heartbeat returns to normal and I can stop the screaming inside my head. There are no such things as ghosts. There are no such things as ghosts.…
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79.3 K • Ongoing
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I freeze. My heart stops. Feeling as if I’ve been kicked in the gut, I lean against the car door to steady myself. Then I stand there in cold shock, trying to decide what to do. But there’s nothing to do. Aidan and I aren’t in a committed relationship. Hell, we haven’t even talked about whether or not he’s dating other people. I don’t know a thing about his personal life. “Oh God,” I say aloud, horrified. “Kayla, you idiot!” He could have twenty other women on a…
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79.3 K • Ongoing
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We lie entangled on the forest floor, breathing hard, but otherwise silent. Then he groans and drops his face to my neck, hiding his eyes. Staring up at the endless blue sky, I wrap my arms around his shoulders, knowing instinctively that this time, he’s the one falling apart. “It’s okay,” I whisper hoarsely, dazed. “Aidan, it’s okay.” He makes a muffled sound of pain. “Shh.” I softly kiss the side of his face and thread my fingers into his hair. He’s heavy and hot on top…
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79.3 K • Ongoing
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Sunday morning dawns brilliant blue. The rainclouds have been chased away by the sun, and for the first time in weeks, it’s gorgeous out. Aidan makes us breakfast—scrambled eggs, of course, but also toast and bacon—then we shower together. He hums as he washes my body, grins as he towels me dry afterward, whistles as we dress. Aidan in a good mood is intoxicating. With his face lit up, he’s even more handsome than usual. Because the weather’s nice, he suggests we make the trip to the…
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79.3 K • Ongoing
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Afterward, I’m an emotional mess. I lie facedown on the sofa with my ass in the air, sobbing into the cushions, trembling all over, sweaty and spent. Aidan is bent over me, breathing raggedly. His hot forehead rests between my shoulder blades. “Oh, baby,” he whispers. “Don’t cry. It’s okay, sweetheart. It’s okay.” He presses the gentlest of kisses to my spine and slowly withdraws from my body. Then he drags the afghan off the back of the sofa and wraps me in it. He sits, pulls me…
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79.3 K • Ongoing
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It’s Saturday. The rain has fallen steadily day and night this week, tapering to drizzle only to gather strength and pound the saturated ground once again. I sit in my office with Dante’s letter in my hands as I gaze out the window into the dreary afternoon. The Sound is a murky iron gray, its waters uneasy, whipped to white peaks by gusty winds. The house exhales an occasional wistful sigh, but otherwise is silent. It’s been that way since my talk with Fiona last Monday. Eerily silent, as if…
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79.3 K • Ongoing
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Dear Kayla, I had this cat when I was a kid. Orange tabby, skinny thing, hated everybody. Except me. That cat loved me. I loved him, too, though I didn’t know it until he got hit by a car. Before that, I thought OJ was a menace. (That was his name, OJ. After orange juice. Not very creative, I know, but I was eight.) Once the cat died and he wasn’t around anymore, I realized how much I loved him. That stupid cat had been my best friend, but I only realized it in hindsight. Funny thing, isn’t…
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79.3 K • Ongoing
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