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Tag Archives: alone

Fiction: Alone (99 words)

She lived alone for most of her life. It just came naturally for her to be retreated away from everyone. Even she lived in town—she was happiest when left to her own devices, tucked away from the rest of the world.

She found a job that required only an internet connection. She logged in the morning to find her list of tasks, worked until she completed them, then turned off her computer until the next morning. And when she’d saved up, she bought a house in the middle of nowhere and went off to hide in the woods.

 
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Posted by on June 15, 2017 in Stories

 

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Fiction: Found (706 words)

“Hey! Someone! I think there is a girl over here.” Char called out. My head snapped up from the plant I was examining, and he made a come here gesture. “Alexa! There is a girl over here.”

I approached him carefully, and sure enough, he was right. In the little valley that the stream was running through, only about half my height below them, there was a girl laying in the shade of a tree. Well, it was hard to say “girl” since she looked about my age, and I would be quite cross if someone referred to her as ‘girl.’

But then I noticed that the leaves under her shoulder were discolored. “I think she’s bleeding,” I threw over my shoulder as I started to scramble down the embankment, Char close behind me.

I knelt down at her side, and put my hand on her chest to see if I could feel her heart beating. I barely had time to register there was a beat before she sat up, swinging wildly at me.   I threw up my own hands to protect my face, and sat back on my heels to try to get out of her way. “Whoa, Whoa. Calm down. I think you’re bleeding. I just wanted to make sure you were still breathing. Are you hurt?”

The woman slowed her swinging, eventually letting her hands fall to her side as she focused on me. She brought her hand up to cover the about two-inch gash that ran at an angle from her collar bone up her neck. “I’ve trained in medicine; may I look at that?”

She shook her head quickly, trying to inch her way back from me. “Okay, okay. That’s fine. It’s okay.”   I sat back a little more heavily on my heels, looking at her, trying to figure something out. “I’m Alexa. That,” She pointed up the drop off where Char was still picking his way more slowly down, “is my good friend Char.”  I tried to smile at her. “What’s your name?”

She watched me, then turned to look at Char and back to me. I was beginning to think either she didn’t talk or couldn’t understand me when she answered me in the softest voice “Bryce. I’m Bryce.”

“Hi, Bryce.” I answered. “We have some jerky with us. Would you like something to eat?” Bryce just watched me, but I held out my hand towards Char, who put a big piece in my hand. I offered it out to her, and Bryce snatched it out of my hand with the hand not covering the injury, chomping into it with a vicious ferocity. She must be starving.  I got Char to hand me another piece, so she could have more when she finished the piece in her hand.  “Are you lost? Do you need help getting home?”

“No,” she answered in that soft voice, “Not Lost. No Home.”

“You don’t have a home?” I asked. She shook her head no very quickly before taking another bite.

“I’m alone.” She answered around the jerky.

I turned around to look at Char, who nodded at me.  It was really good when we were on the same page.

“Bryce.  We live in a camp not far from her. We take people in all the time. You don’t have to stay, but if you want, you can come back with us for a little while. Get some food, some clean clothes, and some good sleep.  And, if you want, we can look at that cut on your shoulder, make sure it isn’t infected or anything.”  I offered her the second piece of jerky as I spoke.

She ate it a bit slower than the first one watching me, as she went. When she finished eating it, she sat up a little straighter. “I can go? I don’t like it, I can go?”

“Yeah. If you don’t like it, you can walk right out. I’ll even make you a bag to take with you.” I answered, offering out a hand. Bryce took it and we stood up together.

“It does hurt,” she added, pulling her hand away from the cut on her neck.

“We will get it take care of.” I smiled. “Don’t worry.”

 
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Posted by on May 10, 2017 in Stories

 

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Fiction: Alone (133 words)

She was always a stranger.  She didn’t really like to make friends, and very occasionally she would be an acquaintance, but most of her life she was a stranger.

And that was the way she liked it.  She could slip in and out of notice whenever she wanted.  She never had people asking her questions, probing into her life, trying to assess her feelings.  She didn’t have to worry about hurting someone’s feelings, or someone hurting hers.  She had talked to someone about it once, and he had said that seemed like an awful lonely existence, but she couldn’t understand what he meant by that.  She had never needed people to keep herself entertained, and she expected that she never would.

So she walked through life as a stranger.  And she was happy.

 
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Posted by on May 25, 2016 in Stories

 

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Fiction: Home Alone (364 words)

There was something unnatural about staying the night alone in a big house.  A studio apartment? Sure–where else where could anyone else be anyways? A two-bedroom house? Yes, Finally become enough of an adult to have a guest room–so what if most of the time it’s just going to be used as storage?  But a full-sized house, several bed rooms, something and half baths, two car garage–rooms that used to belong to parents, grandparents, brothers and sisters, maybe even the stray aunt or uncle–No, that was not a good place to sleep alone.

So, Marie decided not to sleep. She got up and wandered through the halls, dragging her fingers over holes in the wall where pictures used to hang, scuffing her toes over the worn parts of the carpet, not bothering to turn on the lights.  Of course, the house was easy to navigate now, most of the furniture broken down into smaller components and set in the garage for the movers, as well boxes and boxes of belongings stacked just off the foyer for easy removal in the morning. But even still, she found herself side stepping as she ended the living room to avoid a foot stool that was no longer there, pulling in her hand to not his a dining room table that was in three pieces where her dad’s car used to sit, and moving her hand down the wall to avoid hitting her mother’s decorative hanging plate by the fridge, the one already wrapped in newspaper and carefully placed in the top of a box marked fragile. She looked in the fridge at the bare minimum remaining there, before deciding on just a bottle of water.  Without thinking, she headed back into the living room, but came to her senses before she turned to sit where the couch once was.    She gripped her water bottle just a little bit tighter, and headed back to her room, sinking down on the edge of the bed in the empty room.  She told herself not to look at the clock.   Counting the minutes until the movers arrived would not help her sleep.  Nor would it make her feel any less alone.

 
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Posted by on January 14, 2014 in Stories

 

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