Creative Writing
short story samples
blue rope
We awoke to the sound of bells. I rose, then stumbled out of bed to see what was making the sound.
“What’s out there?” asked Laura as I was walking out of the room, her voice muffled by the mattress she was facing.
“I don’t know, I’m checking it”, I said faintly.
It was light out, but I could feel it was still early. I walked to the glass door and slid it open. About 10 metres away from me, on a floating barge, were three cows. One was auburn brown and two were black and white. All of them had cow bells hanging from their necks. I stood in silence for a minute longer watching them slowly float away, then walked back inside.
“It was just cows,” I said as I fell back into the bed.
“What?” mumbled Laura, still in her twisted sleeping position.
“Cows”, I said, closing my eyes.
Laura didn’t reply.
A few hours later we were both up fixing parts of our floating home. It’s been over a year now since the heavy rains. La Niña was expected to bring above average rainfall, but never this much, not 17 days of almost constant downpour. It was the anomaly of anomalies. We had already owned the houseboat for two months before the Rain came and the Arkansas River grew six times in size. Countless towns washed away. Or maybe they’re all still there, just hidden, something like Atlantis.
I looked up at the makeshift bookshelf we had drilled into the bedroom wall. Some books were no longer upright, it looked as if one had been pulled out, causing the rest to fall.
“Did you take a book?”, I called out.
“What?” she replied from our small dining area.
“One of my books…it’s all messy.”
“Oh yeah,” she said, walking into the bedroom. “We needed more matches and I remembered Susan wanted some red ribbon for her kid’s birthday present, so I talked to Nathan and he gave Susan ribbon for matches and I traded him the matches for a book. A triangle trade”, she chuckled.
I nodded and asked, “So which book did you choose?”
“I asked him if he wanted anything in particular and he said anything spiritual. The closest thing we had was the New Testament and I know you’ve never read or will read it, so I gave him that,” she said.
I wish we had more books, I thought.
“Oh okay”, I said.
I looked out at the small rectangular window, I could see the strained blue rope that held us in place. It attached our home to an old church spire poking out of the deluge of terracotta water. A hazard for some, an anchor for others – depends on the time of day.
“You know, we’ve been here for 5 weeks now. I think it’s time,” I said.
“To cut us loose?” Laura asked.
“Yeah, to untie us.”
aurora and iris
Aurora stumbled across some uneven ground. Iris, with a gloom hanging over her, closed her eyes and put her forehead to the neck of the horse. The viper had bitten Aurora under her belly. Iris had the false hope that they would run into a group of travellers who’d be able to treat her companion. She patted and stroked the soft auburn brown fur for another few seconds. Then she pulled Aurora to a stop. Aurora’s back legs immediately sank to lie down. Blood ran from her nose onto the blades of grass.
The prairie was a green and yellow expanse, filled with drying golden wheat that swayed above patches of lush grass and sandstone boulders. It was late in the day and late in the summer. Sturdy gusts of wind had now become a gale while the towering dust cloud to the east became larger.
Tears grew in Iris’ eyes. Now that she was on foot, Duncan and his men would catch her – she couldn’t stay on this course. She pulled off the bandana from her hair, tied it behind her neck then made sure the fabric would tightly cover her nose and mouth. Iris got down on her knees, closed Aurora’s eyes and kissed her forehead. She pulled herself up, threw her bag over her right shoulder, and started to run towards the dust storm.
two coins of the same side
Summer solstice
Evergreen leaves flickered above while the morning sunlight passed between apartment buildings and illuminated an empty park. Carmen could hear the dampness of the footpath while he admired the faint blue sky bouncing off wet asphalt. He took in a long breath as he strolled to the metro, smelling the scent of blooming lilacs, enjoying the warm morning.
He took the outdoor spiral staircase that was covered in moss down to the entry of the train station, hearing the distant screech of a train approaching. He slowed the pace in his steps when he knew he was to comfortably make this train. Carriage doors passed by him on the platform and slowed to a stop. Through the window of the door that stood before him, he saw a woman in a midnight blue bomber jacket, the cuffs of the jacket worn and riddled with holes. She had a small amber coloured scarf tied around her neck rotated at a slight angle, and was leaning on the train’s wall looking down at her phone.
It was Mia. They had met one Friday night two weeks ago at a friend’s birthday at the Clover’s Inn. They had talked almost the whole time but he didn’t get her number or Instagram before making a hurried exit. He stepped in. She looked up and her eyes widened with delight and surprise. Carmen immediately grinned when he realised she recognised him.
Winter solstice
Mia ripped the brown scarf from her neck. The wind was more than turbulent this morning and the gusts repeatedly blew the thin scarf off. The sun wasn’t up yet. She wouldn’t see it anyway when it rose. Dark clouds, illuminated by the city, populated the horizon and hung above the train station she rushed towards. She felt the sting of the wind on her knuckles. Her gloves lay forgotten at home, and she realised too late to turn back to her apartment.
Her legs moved with intent – she should have been at the station by now. She heard the train pulling up and rushed down the stairs, she hated when it arrived early. Mia made it to the Croxley Station platform and leaped through the door as it was closing, her body sweating under the layer of her winter jacket. It began to drizzle outside. People climbed into the carriage increasingly more damp with each station.
At Brunswick Ave Station, a man jumped on while fixing his umbrella, it had become stuck halfway and wouldn’t open or close. He moved the metal slider up and down until suddenly it burst open, spraying water across everything in close proximity, including Mia. She took a quick deep breath in, and exhaled in annoyance.
The man, now standing there with his umbrella open in the carriage, twisted to find some space among all the cramped bodies and then was able to successfully close it. He turned and looked at her.
Mia’s eyes widened with unease when she realised who it was. A few weeks ago she had been at a friend’s apartment for some wine, a gathering organised to cheer people up during the winter gloom and stress around Christmas. The man who was now standing in front of her, was also there a few weeks ago, and as per usual, their conversation of small talk evolved into a discussion. The discussion naturally turned into an argument – this time something about the US and the Rwandan genocide – and as per usual, the conversation ended abysmally.
His eyes met hers and went from relief to something else, maybe remorse of getting on this specific train. He was silent, but made a slow upward nod to acknowledge her and the situation they were in. He exhaled out.
“Sorry,” he started.
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