Un-Stuck

Winters in Iowa were bitter at best. In a state that constantly got mixed up with Idaho and Ohio, where nothing much happened, and everyone wished they lived somewhere else, all roads seemed to lead back to Des Moines. She had been standing outside in the blistering cold for 45 minutes. The train was late. Would it be too much to ask for all the stars to align just once in her life? She pulled out her phone and quickly calculated the time difference. She wouldn’t make it there until well after midnight at this rate. Fitting that when she finally decided to give into her mother’s pleas and buy a ticket, the train would be late. It was the perfect opportunity for her tear up the ticket, hail a cab and go back home. Home. It took over a month to find it. Once she got on the train to escape or start new, depending on whose side you were on, she had no plans. She walked out of the station with a backpack and a duffle bag and spent the first night on the streets. It was right before Christma...

Droven: Um hey, hi, I’m kinda in a rush to get back to work. Smooth bud. Real smooth. Maera: Well, which way are you headed? If it’s the same direction, we can split it. Save some cash. Oh hell her smile is insanely beautiful. It’s so full and her lips are just… Maera: You good baby? It’s cold outside ya know. Gonna keep a girl waiting or are we splitting this cab? She’s still smiling, so you haven’t totally screwed this up yet Droven: I’m heading uptown. If you are then we can share this cab for sure. Ok, ok, getting there. Steel those nerves buddy. Maera: Perfect! Scooch over and let’s get rockin. My heart is about to leap out of my chest. How can a woman be this beautiful. The silence of the last two minutes have been killing me. Come on brain, give me something to talk about,dammit! Maera: Hey, I just wanted to say that I’m sorry if my friend was kind of rude back there. She can be a total bitch some days. So they definitely noticed I was eavesdropping on the ...

It was her hair, always her hair, that got him first. It didn’t matter what she was wearing, or what perfume she sprayed on. It was whether it was down or up, curly or straight, because by that extension he knew which one of her he’d get before she said hello. But don’t get him wrong, there was something about her fingers too. Slender, long, and delicate as they traced tiny pictures onto his chest. She was always warm after a cold day. A well deep enough that he could keep pulling from and she never emptied. But something in the way her fingers wrote invisible poems against his skin kept him tethered to her. Drifting away only to come swinging back. He could read her, every gesture, expression, every sigh. The way she bit her lip when she was alone meant she was insecure, but the way she bit her lip when she was talking to a man meant she was interested. The brief stutter in her sentence meant she was caught off guard and the small crease in her brow meant she was annoyed by that. He ...

Another long day for the books. Man am I getting sick of these. Ah well, gatta pay those bills one way or another I guess. I’m almost home sick with how much time I have been spending away from Neko. I have to make it a point to take more time off and spend it with her. I hope she understands that I am trying. Better hurry home, I don’t want to spend another minute in this bloody office. I’m not very fond of this drive anymore either. I’m thinking vacation time. We haven’t visited our spot in a while and it is high time we cut loose and just got some time to ourselves. I’ll pitch that idea to her when I get in, hah, like she would say no to a couple weeks of us getting the lead out in our home away from home. She’ll be thrilled. I’ll tell the bossman I need the time, at least they’re good about that sort of thing. Easy traffic and home sweet home. Check that text from her real quick before heading in. Hmm. “Doors open babe. Just come up.” Ah she must be drained from the day and doesn’t...

Words fell from his mouth like smooth, warm honey, slow and lazy, coating us in tales of great adventures, love stories, epic tragedies, and worlds of magic. He knew the power of a first sentence, piercing us through our cheeks, reeling us in and keeping us hooked. On a hot summer afternoon, with full bellies and content smiles, he beckoned us over to his spot on the back porch, overlooking the pond. “Once I found a message in a bottle, but not where you would have expected.” His eyes glossed over as if he were transported into another world, far off from summer holidays and crickets chirping in the tall yellow grass along the sides of the house. “You see that pond over there,” he motioned, shifting his eyes over our heads and onto the pond he and grandma said was there before we were born. “That’s where I found it.” “No way!” said Ben, “Messages don’t float in ponds,” he added matter-of-factly. I swatted at him. We never interrupted grandpa. There wasn’t any time to talk. ...

I could smell her… That foul stench of rot and decay. That potent and familiar smell of the undead was one I would never remove from my senses, no matter how strong the tonics. The entire stretch of the hallway was bathed in that horrid odor and yet, I still found myself creeping closer and closer to my goal. Each step echoed softly along the slime soaked walls, my hands trailed along to keep my balance firm and my bearings locked. The darkness would swallow one in an instant, fortunately for me, my heritage gave me the gifts to be able to pierce the darkness somewhat and traverse it without the need for torch or flint. I knew I grew closer, every step down the wretched hallway underneath this castle, to my one goal. Vaal’Una, the Witch, would die tonight. That horrible, horrible smell… That festering notion in my mind kept my pace slow to a crawl, however. “What if she has yet to change fully,” I asked myself aloud against my better judgement. No, I thought better, she is gone f...