A new story. Bittersweet this time. The prompt was “freedom.”
I’ve been swamped with schoolwork, but it didn’t feel right to me to write about being free from school. As inspiring as a story about a graduation after years of struggle would be, it just didn’t fit in my mind. And, of course, look around you. I wasn’t going to write about patriotic freedom either.
So I found some other inspiration.
She never thought she’d be okay again.
She’d grown accustomed to his warmth, his lingering presence. Sleeping alone was foreign to her, and she got no rest the first and second nights.
But on the third, she found she was already starting to spread out as she slept instead of sticking to the left side, her side.
The whole bed was her side now.
It wasn’t what she expected. It certainly wasn’t what she wanted. But she had always prided herself on her tenacity and drive to work with what she had. She made her own destiny.
Slowly happy again.
©2018 Heather Stephens
The prompt was rain, and it made me miss Washington yet again. I miss it so much. While it’s nice to be able to have access to a sandy beach with actually warm ocean water, I’d much rather reserve California as a place to visit. Not a place to live. Not for someone like me, with a soul like mine, that craves the rain. That craves the shadows under dark clouds.
Someone who hides from the sun.
It overwhelms me. I despise it here. And I just don’t understand how I could ever be happy here.
I’m dying a little with every sunny day.
My mother told me it would be cloudy today. It is. The sky is dark, and it rumbles deeply, shaking my bones.
It’s a comfort.
The clouds opened up five minutes ago, and already the parched earth is coming back to life.
So am I.
I’ve always had an affinity for water, and when it falls from the sky, it cleanses my soul as much as it does the air and the earth.
This time, the rumbling makes the whiskey in my glass shiver like Jurassic Park.
The storm grows closer. I grow more comfortable.
Evolving with the ever-changing storm.
©2018 Heather Stephens
The prompt was Lost. I could have gone a million different ways with this, but I chose this way. I hope it’s coherent and my point comes across clearly. If you’ve read my other posts, my 100-word stories are always a little bit abstract, but I wasn’t sure if this was too abstract. My husband says it’s coherent, and that’s good enough for me. Here you go!
Basically, she couldn’t find it.
She’d looked for it everywhere. Everywhere. She’d looked for it in Greece. She’d looked for it in France. She’d looked for it at every job she’d held in the past two years, and she’d had too many of those.
Giving up was not an option, so she kept looking. Desperately, fiercely, painstakingly searching for it everywhere she went. In flower shops and cafes, in bookstores and shopping malls.
It wasn’t until much later that she realized she’d been picking up pieces of it all along.
It was up to herself to put it back together.
© 2017 Heather Stephens
Whenever I’d ask her about her hopes and dreams, she’d always say that she wished to fly. But women are not made for the skies. They must be grounded, sincere. That’s what
She never wanted to hear it. She would brush me off, telling me that I didn’t understand. So
that she would never be happy until she learned to choose happiness. She discarded my advice like it was irrelevant to her. When, finally,
that I wanted to marry her, she laughed. She walked away as if she couldn’t hear me.
©2017 Heather Stephens