Category Archives: Short Stories (300+ Words)

February 23, 2016

The Letter

By Kat Myrman


It was a nice funeral. Well, if any funeral could be considered nice, it was that…nice.

I forced a smile for each person who filed by to pay their respects. Like a dull needle skipping clumsily across a broken record, they repeated the same words.

“So sorry dear.”

“Call us if you need anything.”

“Come see us.”

“Your mother was the best…or the sweetest…or a lovely woman…or a good friend.”

She was. All those things and more. I remember thinking that she was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. And she had the voice of an angel, singing me to sleep each night as she tucked me in “all snug like a bug in a rug”. Mom taught me how to read and how to cook and how to shave my legs.

Just two years before we had buried Daddy, the first man I ever loved. He taught me how to swim and ride a bike. He took me fishing for blue gills, and hung an old tire swing from the towering oak tree in the front yard. Daddy spent many nights helping me with homework, and he was there too, to hold me when some silly boy had broken my heart. How I wish he was here now to hold me. How I wish both of them were still here.

I only had three days to get the house ready for auction. Three days to sift through a lifetime of memories and to pack the things I would keep.

I started in the kitchen, boxing up granny’s silver and tea service. On the top shelf of the cabinet was mom’s recipe box. Pages of handwritten, oil-stained sheets of tattered paper were a treasure to me.

As I thumbed through the recipes I found a sealed envelope. My name was printed on front in mom’s handwriting.

My hands trembled as I slid my finger under the flap. The paper inside was faded. “When had mom written this?”

I unfolded the page. “Whose handwriting is this?” I thought. It wasn’t Mom’s or Daddy’s. I flashed a glance to the bottom of the page.

“Aunt June? Why would she be writing a letter to me?”

My eyes raced to the top of the page, ‘Dear Annie and Tom…’ Mom? Daddy? Why would Aunt June write you a letter with my name on the envelope?”

I dropped to the floor, hot tears burning my eyes, as I read Aunt June’s words…her secret…mom and daddy’s lie…my truth.

kat – 23 February 2016

A story for this week’s Ronovan Writes Friday Fiction Prompt: You’ve just been handed a message that makes you drop to the floor, trembling uncontrollably.

To read other stories or enter your own, click HERE.

33 Comments   |  tags: , , | posted in Challenges and Writing Prompts, Short Stories (300+ Words)

February 15, 2016

The Interview

By Kat Myrman
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Photo by Kat Myrman 2016

Betty O’Donnell had been with the company for 27 years, planning to retire in three. After the merger, she and several other veteran staffers were handed pink slips. Betty walked away with six month’s severance, no health care, and no pension.  She was devastated.

It was the holidays, but Betty tried to make the best of it. She put together a resume and registered with the Employment Bureau. With a college degree and accounting experience, she never imagined it would be hard to find a job. But it was. She couldn’t sleep. She barely ate. Several months passed and Betty realized it was time to find a job…any job.

There were several entry level positions available. One in particular, at the Burger Meister Restaurant, paid better than minimum wage and offered benefits. She printed a copy of her resume, completed the application, and delivered it in person.

After waiting 45 minutes, she was greeted by a Mr. Dan Sloan. He was around 30, clean-cut, wearing khaki pants, a company emblemed polo, and black rimmed trendy eyeglasses.

“Hello…Ms. O’Donnell? Can I call you Elizabeth? I’m Dan Sloan, the Manager.”

“Hello Mr. Sloan. Betty, is good,” she smiled, shaking his hand.

“Sorry for the wait. We had a few issues in the kitchen. My office is right here.”

The office walls were cluttered with cheesy motivational posters, food service guidelines and a framed portrait of the Burger Meister. One wall was glass allowing Sloan a full view of the kitchen.

“Please have a seat while I review your application. Can I get you some coffee, a soft drink, water?”

“Nothing for me thanks.”

“I see you attached your resume…”

“Yes, I…”

“That’s fine. We have all the information we need from the company application. So tell me, Betty, what brought you to Burger Meister’s?”

Isn’t it obvious? You’re looking at my application! “Uh, well, I need a job. I saw the Hostess position in the paper…”

“Ah yes. Tell me, have you worked as a hostess before?”

“No, but I have managed several employees in my previous employment.” Certainly years of management experience should count for something.

“I see. What about restaurant experience?

“In college…I waitressed.” If you could call it that. I worked the snack bar at the bowling alley, but he’s looking for restaurant experience…

Mr. Sloan scanned her application and looked up at Betty over the rims of his glasses. “I see you were with your former employer 27 years. That’s a long time. May I ask why you left?”

Here it is. The dreaded “why did you leave” question. “Company acquisition, downsizing…I…” Why won’t he let me finish? I was laid off, not fired! 

“Hmmm…seems to be a lot of that going on these days.”

“Yes.”

“You do understand, the Hostess position requires long hours on your feet.”

“Yes.” Condescending twit! Suck it up Betty. You need this job. 

“And there may be times when we would need you to pitch in with serving patrons or bussing the tables…”

“Yes, of course.”

“I am wondering why someone with your experience would want to work in food service.”

“Well, Mr. Sloan,” Betty forced a smile, “I’ll be honest with you. I got laid off over 4 months ago and I need a job. I’m a quick learner and a team player. I am certain that I could fulfill the responsibilities of the position.” Ugh! I hate feeling so vulnerable!

Mr. Sloan sat straight in his chair, letting out a sigh. “Well, thank you so much for coming in today, Ms. O’Donnell, but I’m not sure you would fit in at Burger Meister’s…” Betty glanced at the kitchen noticing the markedly younger staff.

What? Just like that? Wow! Betty was stunned.

Mr. Sloan stood up and opened the door. “Thank you again, Ms. O’Donnell, I wish you well in your job search. Please accept this Meister Money Card. It’s good for 2 free dinners. Goodbye.”

Betty took the money card without looking up and slipped it into her coat pocket. I won’t be back. The wind outside felt harsh. Colder still because of the tears streaming down her face.

“There are other jobs. He would have been an ass to work for. After all, tomorrow is another day.” she said to herself.

kat ~ 15 February 2016

A short story in response to Ronovan Writes Friday Fiction Challenge:

▪Word Count of 500. (SUGGESTED)

▪Take your favorite quote from a movie and use it as inspiration for your entry this week. If you want more direction, make it the last sentence in your piece. (REQUIRED)

As you can see, my movie quote is from Gone With the Wind, made famous by Miss Scarlett, “After all tomorrow is another day.” If you would like to participate or read other stories, click HERE.

 

25 Comments   |  tags: , , , , , | posted in Challenges and Writing Prompts, Short Stories (300+ Words)

February 6, 2016

Swan Song – Part Two

By Kat Myrman

This story is in response to Friday Fiction with Ronovan Writes:

PROMPT FOR CHALLENGE

February 5th is National Wear Red Day or Shower With a Friend Day. There are much more serious International Days the 5th is set aside for, but the challenge at this point in its growth is not a place to explore those quite yet. Although I’m not stopping anyone. If you know of another National/International Day you want to write about this week, go for it.

  • Word Count of 500. (SUGGESTED)
  • Some great stories were written last week. Continue those stories this week! (SUGGESTED)

This is part two then, to last week’s story. If you would like to read that first, you can click HERE for the link.

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Photo Credit: Pixabay Stock

“I’m getting too damn old for this,” Leonard muttered, tossing the Kevlar vest into his locker, glancing for a second at her picture taped inside the door.

How many more times would the odds let him win? That whole “Save the World” crap was pretty exciting seventeen years ago when he was young, invincible and single. But now there was Jen to consider. This last assignment was the closest he had ever come to losing.

Leonard met Jen three years earlier in a grocery store parking lot. She had dropped her phone. When she turned to retrieve it she let go of the shopping cart. Leonard, of course, sprung into action, grabbing the run-a-way cart just seconds before it rammed into a parked squad car! She was impressed and he was smitten by her sparkling blue eyes and fiery red hair. When she agreed to have coffee with him he never looked back.

But there would always be this secret between them; the truth that he wasn’t an analyst in an engineering firm. He hated lying to her. Hell, he was just lying to himself thinking he could have a normal life.

He and Tom finished their debrief as the sun was rising.

“It’s been real Tom! See you next time I need a serenade!

Tom smiled, tipping his Yankee’s cap, “See you on the flip-side Leonard!”

Leonard hoped he’d never see him again.

 

The house was dark when he arrived, a hint of cinnamon in the air. “Jen’s been baking again,” Leonard smiled. He loved that about her.

The click-clack of Chauncey’s nails on the hardwood floor greeted him. “Hey there buddy,” Leonard scratched the pup behind the ears. “Shhhhhh, you’ll wake your mama.”

Leonard left his shoes at the door and slipped into the bedroom. Jen’s soft breathing warmed the darkness. Her long red hair cascaded over her face and draped across his pillow.

She stirred as Leonard sat on the edge of the bed. “Hi Lenny. I didn’t hear you come in. What time is it?”

Leonard glanced at the clock on the dresser, LED lights flashing. He winced, “Did we have another power outage?”

“Just a surge. But you know me and electronic thingies.” He knew. He loved that about her too.

“It’s about 7 am.” He leaned in dusting her forehead with a soft kiss.

“Well, you’re here just in time you know.”

“I am?”

“Yes! You do know what day it is…” Jen’s eyes flashed, her mouth curling into a playful grin.

“I do?” Crap! Leonard panicked. What did I forget? A birthday…an anniversary?

Sensing his discomfort, Jen giggled and blurted, “It’s National Shower With a Friend Day silly! We must celebrate!”

Leonard beamed, leaning in deeper slipping his arm underneath her, pulling her close. “Yes ma’am! We definitely must…celebrate!”

He gazed into Jen’s eyes. As they softly closed, her lips pursing in anticipation of his kisses, he thought. “Maybe it’s time to consider that desk job.”

kat ~ 6 February 2016

19 Comments   |  tags: , , , | posted in Challenges and Writing Prompts, Short Stories (300+ Words)

January 25, 2016

Milestones

By Kat Myrman

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It’s not every day that one hits a milestone half a century in the making. That would be me, actually, who has evolved and survived some fifty plus years on this planet. “An event of this magnitude warrants something big,” I thought at the time, “something unexpected, memorable. Yes, this calls for nothing less than a tattoo!” Don’t laugh. It’s quite common you know. Middle-aged people add a tat or two to commemorate a well-lived life. Besides, it was on my bucket list.

Of course, my first and only tattoo could not be merely common, like a butterfly or a flower. This was fifty years we were talking about. So I did what anyone who wants to find a meaningful symbol to etch permanently into one’s flesh would do. I googled it. I already knew that I wanted something that reflected my faith with a Celtic flare. And I wanted a verse to go with it, in Latin. Mind you, I knew nothing about Latin except for a few words derived from Latin roots. But I was determined and inspired.

It didn’t take long to find the perfect verse. “Alis Volat Propriis!” or as it is translated in English, “She flies with her own wings!” I am reminded of a quote by the late, great president, Abraham Lincoln, “The problem with internet quotes is that you can’t always depend on their accuracy.” But then, I digress. I am getting a bit ahead of myself.

I went to work creating a beautiful tattoo sketch. I found the perfect Celtic knot triangle embellished with ivy for the art. Then I printed a word of the verse on each side. “Alis…Volat…Propiis”.

To my great delight and surprise, three of my daughters managed to make it to my door from two states away just in time to celebrate the big 5-0 with me, as well as accompany me to the tattoo shop, just in case I was having second thoughts. I wasn’t. I was ready to present my flesh as a canvas and to commemorate my mid-life Croning, as it were, in a big way.

If you have never gotten a tattoo, you should know, it hurts. There’s no way around it. The droning precision of the needle as it pulses, depositing ink, black and green, deep into layers of flesh hurts like hell. But with good company for moral support and music playing in the background…heavy, loud music… the hour or so goes by pretty quickly.

I loved my new tattoo. I still do, even though a few years later I discovered my worst nightmare…a misspelled word! I hate typos. This typo was etched permanently on my left shoulder blade. “Alis Volat Propiis.” “Where was the “R”? There is supposed to be an “R” after the second P? How did I miss it? Every source I consulted online spelled the phrase without the “R”!”

And that was the problem. It seems that there are quite a few folks wandering around with this misspelled disaster branded into their skin. The State of Oregon even listed it as a viable “Latin Motto Version”. But, ultimately, it was a typo! One that I had spent weeks researching and perfecting with my photo design program. One that I had suffered through hours of grueling, dull, excruciating pain to receive.

It could have been my undoing you know, having to live with this embarrassing secret hidden under my clothes. But I have grown attached to my beautiful flawed tattoo because it reminds me of me. It was, in fact, the perfect way to commemorate my crazy, roller coaster first 50 years.

This year I will celebrate my 60th year. I have lived ten more years filled the joys and sorrows that are part of every life. I thought about getting another tattoo. But I can’t decide what it should be or say. I’ve tossed this verse around…tell me what you think… “Just Breath”. I am kidding you know. Maybe I’ll just stick with butterflies.

kat ~ 25 January 2016
(675 Words – Non-Fiction)

Yes…this really happened…and yes, I still love it, flawed and all! 

 

This story is in response to RonovanWrites Weekly Flash Fiction Challenge. If you would like to read other stories or add your own, click HERE.

 

26 Comments   |  tags: , , , , , , | posted in Challenges and Writing Prompts, Digital Art & Photos, Essays, Random Thoughts and Musings, Short Stories (300+ Words)

January 15, 2016

Old School Gumshoe

By Kat Myrman

crime-scene

“Ticks and tocks of essential time, sink the spirits lower than wine…” 

What did it mean? It was the only thing of substance recovered from the crime scene. This and the bloody remnants of a violent scuffle…but no body. From the width and span of the blood trail that ended at the curb, Sean figured it was a large, heavy person, likely moved from the scene in a vehicle…a van, with easy access to the edge of the sidewalk.

Sean had seen this before. A post-it note and a trail of blood. Attempts were made to identify the victims based on missing persons’ reports and DNA tests, but no matches had been found.

Back at the precinct Sean added the note to the evidence board in his office. He was old school. The younger detectives used computer programs to solve their cases, but Sean liked to see it on the wall, full size. 

This was the third victim in as many weeks. Three cryptic messages. Three trails of blood. The crime scenes were all west of the River, but the locations seemed random.

Sean scanned the messages again.

“Bridges take you here to there…water takes you everywhere.” The first note was found behind the textile warehouse at the edge of town; no bridges or water nearby.

The second message read, “Musical notes melodic and sweet…quench the thirst of savage beasts…” Again the crime scene didn’t have any link to music or…

“Wait! Of course! I can’t believe I didn’t see it before now!” The second scene was located at the dock, a block from the old stone bridge. And this last crime scene was in the alley behind the strip club on Broad Street.

Sean repeated the third message, “ticks and tocks of essential time…ticks and tocks…essential time…clocks, something to do with clocks.” There was a clock tower in the square and another huge clock at the First National Bank. But the second part…sink the spirits lower than wine…a bar? There were no bars near either clock. “Think Sean…sinks the spirits…lower than wine…ticks and tocks…essential time…sinks…spirits…lower…” Sean’s eyes widened, “The clock tower at Shady Grove Cemetery! If this guy tries again, this has to be where he’ll strike!”

Sean enlisted a team of officers to monitor the cemetery. Three nights passed. Nothing. 

On the fourth night, a grey van pulled into the entrance. When it stopped 100 feet from the clock tower, Sean and his team wasted no time moving in. As the driver opened the side door of the van, a woman with hands bound and head covered by a dark pillow case tumbled out. He shoved her toward the clock tower alcove. 

Within seconds the officers had overtaken the killer, disarming him just as he raised a knife to deliver the first blow.

Sean didn’t need a computer to help solve this or any other case. He was old school.

kat ~ 15 January 2016

(498 Words)

A short story for RonovanWrites Friday Fiction Challenge. This week’s challenge: Write a story using the line, “Ticks and tocks of essential time, sink the spirits lower than wine…”  somewhere in the story.  500 words or less. If you would like to read other stories or write your own, click HERE for the link.

 

20 Comments   |  tags: , , , , , , | posted in Challenges and Writing Prompts, Flash Fiction, Short Stories (300+ Words)