Tag Archives: Short Story

October 16, 2016

Seasoning – Part 13

By Kat Myrman

‘Lovers’ by Felix Nussbaum


Hannah looked into Henry’s eyes. Those eyes that had been fierce with rage just days ago no longer hinted of malice or anger. They were playful, tender even, with an intensity that seared Hannah to her core. Her racing heart sent a rush of heat through her veins flushing her neck and face. 

“Uh, well, uh, I believe, Mr. Chambers, that we were about to have dinner,” Hannah stumbled over her words, looking away, “though I am afraid dinner has gotten cold by now.”

Taking her cue, Henry sighed, “Well, cold or not, I’m famished as I am sure you are. Shall we?” He stepped back bowing slightly, arm extended toward the house. “After you.”

Hannah rushed past Henry hoping he would not notice that she was blushing. 

He watched her pass, gazing at her perfect figure, revealed all the more by her clinging wet tea dress. “Oh and one more thing Hannah,” he called to her, “it’s Henry. None of this Mr. Chambers business, especially after tonight. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t been here to help.” 

By the time Henry arrived in the dining room, Hannah was busy plating dinner, the room aglow in candlelight, hazy from remnants of smoke. He leaned on the chair taking it all in; her graceful movements as she dipped a serving spoon into each bowl depositing perfect portions on his plate. “How could I have been such a beast to this lovely young woman?” He winced at the thought. 

Hannah noticed his souring facial expression. “Oh! I’m sorry! Too much? Not enough?”

“No Hannah it’s perfect. Really. I was just thinking. How can you be so kind to me? I can’t imagine what you must be thinking after all that I’ve put you through. I’ve been so horrible. Can you ever forgive me?”

“Oh. Well, what I am thinking, after spending the day in this beautiful house, admiring the lovely things here, the care and attention to detail, the undeniable woman’s touch, the photographs…all I’m thinking, sir,” she stopped for a moment, looking directly into his eyes, “is that you must have loved her very much.”

Tears welled in Henry’s eyes as he leaned against the back of the chair propped only by Hannah’s tender gaze. 

Hannah put the spoon down and walked behind Henry gently guiding him into the chair. “Here you go. You said you were famished. And I didn’t spend all afternoon in that kitchen to feed the compost heap. So…let’s have dinner, shall we?”

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Read previous installments of Seasoning HERE. This series is inspired by the lovely paintings that are part of Jane Dougherty’s Microfiction Challenge. This chapter is a bit late to the party, which only means I will be adding a new installment in a day or two. Thank you to everyone who is following this little story. ❤️

18 Comments   |  tags: , , , , | posted in Fiction Series, Short Stories (300+ Words)

March 11, 2016

The Letter – Part 4

By Kat Myrman

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Read previous installments of The Letter by clicking on the links below:
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3

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June met me in the driveway. It felt good to take a break. The sun was shining. I closed my eyes for a second to take in its warmth.

I found a second letter in the junk drawer, addressed to June in Mom’s handwriting. It took everything I had not to steam the envelope open to have a look. But I knew I should give it directly to my aunt. Maybe at lunch.

“You drive Aunt June,” I said, opening the passenger side of her fancy caddy, “I’ve never ridden in one of these!”

June smiled and chuckled, “Maybe one day you’ll have one of your own, Grace, if you play your cards right!”

Noon hour traffic flooded the narrow downtown streets, but June knew all the shortcuts and had an “in” with Joe, the diner’s owner. Parking was an easy slip to a special spot in the back. We entered through the kitchen. Joe, the owner and chef, was putting finishing touches on someone’s lunch plate. He greeted June with a warm embrace.

“We go way back, Joe and I,” June gushed.

Joe glanced over her shoulder at me, “And who is this lovely young lady, June? Where’ve you been hiding her?” Humph…if he only knew. Maybe he did know!

“Joe, this is my niece Grace, here in town for Annie’s funeral and to get the house in order.”

“Oh yeah, I heard about Annie. So sorry for both of you. She was a nice lady.”

Joe escorted us to our table. I caught myself staring at him. Could he be the one…my father? It was a good thing I was only in town for three days, I thought, or I’d be obsessing over every man June knew, especially those from “way back.”

During lunch June and I talked about the diner…when Joe had taken over the place, how it was the best lunch spot in town. It was crowded. I was sure she had planned it that way so we wouldn’t have to talk about her letter.

But now there was another letter. I decided this was as good a time as any to give it to her. Maybe it would open the door to our talking about the first one.

“Did you find any hidden treasure in the parlor, Aunt June?

“Oh you know, lovely memories. I packed all the family photos for you. I’m sure you’ll want to keep those. How about you? Find anything good?”

“As a matter of fact,” I said, pulling the letter from my pocket, sliding it across the table toward her, “I found this. It’s from Mom to you.”

June placed her hand over the letter.

“Well aren’t you going to read it? What if it contains Mom’s last wishes? I should know, don’t you think?”

Reluctantly June slid the seal open and unfolded the letter.  As she started to read her sister’s words tears welled up and streamed down her cheeks…

Dear June,

I know the truth about you and Tom…

As I watched from across the table, June quickly folded the letter, shoving it back into the envelope.

“I’ll finish it later Grace. Nothing pressing in it. Just a personal note. I miss Annie. Sorry I get so emotional.”

I wasn’t buying it. I only had three days to figure this out.

“We should talk June…”

“I know dear. I’m sorry, I just can’t…not here…not now.”

kat ~ 11 March 2016

18 Comments   |  tags: , , , , , | posted in Digital Art & Photos, Short Stories (300+ Words)

March 7, 2016

The Letter – Part 2

By Kat Myrman

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The Letter – Part 2

(If you would like to read Part 1, here is a link: The Letter ….and…because so many of you asked for it, there is a Part 3…Click HERE.)

I woke to the plunk, plop, plink of the leaky faucet in the kitchen sink. My back and neck ached from having fallen asleep on the floor. The skin on my face was tight, sticky from dried tears.

It felt like a horrible nightmare, except for the crumpled letter still clenched in my hand. I smoothed the wrinkles, wiped the crust from my eyes and read the words again…

Dear Annie and Tom,

You are two of the most amazing people I know. For whatever reason, fate chose not to bless you with children, yet me, who would make a terrible mother, with this beautiful baby girl. 

You know I can’t begin to give her the life she deserves. But you two…how wonderful her life would be if you could find it in your heart to take her as your very own. 

I promise from this day forward to be simply Auntie June.   

I’ve spoken to an attorney who will draw up the papers so we can make it official. 

Just one favor is all I ask. May we name her Grace? She will always be Grace to me.

Love Forever,

June

My eyes burned as I fought back tears. I had cried enough this past week. To think losing Mom was the worst thing I could imagine.

“Mom…if you are listening somewhere, you should know, this damn letter will never change who you and daddy are to me. Never.”

But things had changed. I had always believed that I looked like my Aunt June because she was mom’s sister. We had similar tastes and mannerisms. It was all starting to make sense now.

June had pursued a career as an interior designer. She had been featured in popular magazines, commissioned by celebrities, and had her own textile line as well as a chain of retail specialty emporiums. June even hosted her own syndicated radio program. Never married, she had done alright for herself.

Things would be different now that I knew the truth. How could they not be? Sweet, fun Auntie June had now become the mother who couldn’t be bothered by the inconvenience of a child. To think I admired her all these years. I honestly don’t know how I feel about her now. “Numb” is a good word for it. How does someone give up their own child?

“Get a grip, Grace. You’ve got to finish what you came here to do.”

But what am I going to say? How am I going to act when she comes over today to help me pack? I wish I hadn’t invited her. I don’t need this. Maybe I should call and cancel.

I pulled myself up from the floor and started a pot of strong coffee. While it was brewing I took a quick shower, changed into a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt and tied my hair up off my face.

Always prompt, June arrived at exactly 9 am, carrying a box of fresh pastries.

“Hello Grace dear, how are you doing this morning? Were you able to get any sleep last night?”

“Well, Aunt June, it was a rough night. I started packing up the kitchen.” Knowing was making me crazy. “I’m keeping Granny’s silver flatware and tea set.”

“Oh, those are definitely keepers, Grace. They’ve been in our family for almost a century.”

“And Mom’s recipes. I’m thinking about compiling them into a book.”

“Wonderful idea, Grace. I’ll definitely want a copy of that. Would you like a danish?”

I was never one for beating around the bush, “And you’ll never guess what else I found…a letter to Mom and Daddy…” I said, searching her face.

“What letter is that, Grace?” June looked away.

“You know the one, June. You wrote it, in fact.”

“I did?”

“Yes.” June glanced back at me. I looked straight into her blue eyes…the same blue with dark violet edges as mine.

Her face flushed. I could tell she knew.

“I think I’ll head into the parlor with a box and some packing paper. Quite a few family treasures in the parlor you know. You keep working in the kitchen, Grace. We can break at noon and head downtown to the diner for lunch. Is that okay with you?”

And just like that, I knew I had another family member to bury this week. Not literally of course. Some secrets are best kept…secret, I suppose. But how I wished we could have talked about it. Maybe one day.

kat ~ 7 March 2016

This short story is Part 2 of “The Letter”, both in response to Ronovan Writes Friday Fiction Challenge. This week’s prompt is: “A Lie is Told”

  • See if you can come in at more than a Word Count of 600. Control your word usage. (SUGGESTED)
  • Using the prompt of ‘A lie is told’ create a scene. This scene can be about what happens because of the lie, or how it makes the person lying feel, or anything you can come up with. If a series is being written, like some are doing, this lie can come back later to haunt the liar. (REQUIRED)

 

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

February 15, 2016

The Interview

By Kat Myrman
wantads

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)

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)