Story Time: Excerpt Of What I am Working On

*Well, I finally got the time to sit down and share some of my writings with you all. So  I thought it would be fun to share an excerpt of what I am working on at the present. Thursday’s post will be completely different, but I thought I would to share what I have been working on.

With that being said, this is a rough draft at best. Still working through how I want things to be written and the over all feel. I am not sure yet if I will continue sharing excerpts from this story but we will cross that bridge when we get there. I am keeping this excerpt super short, simply because I am still working on the story, and what I am showing you is what I am happy with at the moment. So without anymore chatter from me, here is the untitled excerpt:

 

The rain tapped on the window of my New York apartment as the sound of the keys on my 1950’s typewriter filled the silence. Something about an old typewriter makes writing a joy unlike anything I have ever experienced. In between my job and the phone calls back home, I create an ambiance to work on my day dream. A cup of coffee in a pretty mug, Anthropologie candle lit, a stack of paper waiting to be fed through the typewriter I found at an antique shop back home. I sit at my desk and my book picks up where I left off. Then as quickly as the pace started, it ended. I exhale a frustrated breathe. Something just doesn’t feel right. I look at the clock, I realized I lost all track of time. The mail box is probably full as I have neglected to check it. I grab  my keys and walk down the flight of stairs to the wall of mailboxes. I picked this apartment because it kind of reminded me of Audrey Hepburn’s apartment in Breakfast At Tiffany’s. Oozing charm at a rate that I could afford. Affordable character. My mail box was full, I really neglected my mail. I walk back up to my apartment. I walk through the door and remember that my plants need watering, so I water them. Then pour myself another cup of coffee and sift through the envelopes that hold bills and junk mail and come across a pink envelope. My sister’s no doubt. My mom never really quite understood my love for writing. Leaving the comforts of home for the big city hours away. My mom wanted me married with at least a baby on the way. following the footsteps of my older sister. She is married with three kids and a fourth on the way.  As I open the beautiful elaborate invitation I see my youngest sister Amy’s name written in the fanciest font. Lace, glitter and frills. Amy all the way. Sighing, I pick up my phone and call my mom. 

 

 

The Gravel Lane• Short Story•


The gravel crunched under her feet as she walked to the end of the lane. The mail waiting in the tin mail box she had painted little white and purple flowers on a couple of months ago. She was waiting on a letter. One from her Soldier. 

Only eighteen but she had loved him for as long as she could remember. They grew up together in the sense they attended the same school. She always thought he was the most handsome boy in school, but he never seemed to notice her till their junior year of high school. He enlisted wanting to follow in the footsteps of his father and grandfather. He loved America as much as he loves her it seemed. With a fierce passion to protect and defend. When he was sent out to Vietnam it was hard for her. Working in the diner pouring cups of coffee waiting for him to come home.

They had a simple wedding few months before he had left. He had been over there six months. It felt like forever. Married nine months only three were with him home, safe and warm. 

She took a deep breath as she opened the mail box. She took the small stack and went through each one looking for the one that told her he was okay. Nothing. Maybe tomorrow. She made her way to the little house that they share. He painted the house a pretty shade of blue with white shutters and wrap around porch that had the porch swing he built on the left of the porch. She walked in and went to the desk where she kept all his letters and started rereading them. Stay calm, she whispered to herself. Surely there will be a letter tomorrow. She got to the last one, he was happy and safe. Their wedding picture sat on the desk, the smiling faces of two kids who just wanted to spend the rest of their lives together. In her heart, she knew he was the mate of her soul. There couldn’t be anyone else for her. No one else could possibly put up with her constant need to paint, or be willing to eat her lumpy mash potatoes or drink her too tart lemonade. No else could possibly have her heart the way he did. 

The next day, like she does every day, walking down the gravel lane to get the mail out of the pretty painted mail box. She opens to another small stack, none are from him. She fought back tears mixed with fear and frustration. She told him somethings and needed to read his letters. They are all she had to communicate with him. She makes her way back to the house. The house was too quiet so she turns on the radio. Mel Cater singing Hold Me, Thrill Me, Kiss Me filled the room. Their song. She started on the little bit of dishes she needed to wash. Her tears adding to the bubbled dish water. 

Morning came and then turned into that time of day when she would make the trip down the gravel lane. As she stepped out of the house, a cab pulls up. No one in the back seat. As the driver gets out and walks to her, she notices the color of the envelope in his hand. The color of We Regret To Inform You. The world felt like it was spinning. This had to be a nightmare. With the telegram in her hand she opened it to read that her sweet,loving, caring best friend, her husband had been killed. She should call someone, her mother most likely. She couldn’t think. Except that she needed to make her usual trip to the pretty painted mail box and see if she had a letter. With her heart seeming to take residence in her throat, she walked down the gravel lane. She opened the tin mail box with little white and purple flowers painted on it. There was a single letter sitting inside. His last letter. 

He told her how he couldn’t wait to come home. How excited he was to become a father. How he hoped for a girl. Even giving her his name idea. Then ending the letter telling her how much he loved her. 

With weak knees and letter clutched tightly in trembling hands she made her way back to the house. She sat in his favorite chair and put a hand on her rounded stomach and began to cry for the love of her life.

A few months later new life came into the world screaming and red faced. A little girl given the name her father picked for her. Her mother holds her close and begins to hum a Lullaby. Baby girl quieted down and her mother cuddled her close. Then she began to tell her sweet baby girl the story of her father. The first of a lifetime of keeping the memory of a brave soldier alive. 

The Summer I Pretended You Were Mine • A Super Short Story•

There was a time long ago, I pretended you were mine. I was the hopeless romantic who weaved stories and you were the cool and confident one. 

The summer air smelled of Axe and Hawaiian Tropic as we we ran through the hidden trails. I sang along to every song on the radio and you were always making me laugh. The unspoken words hung in mid air never to be spoken. Yet, we continued to splash each other in the pool. Laughter filling starry nights. 

All to quickly the summer  ended and we had to go our separate ways. Though you were never mine to hold, I pretended you were. Even for a short time I felt loved. The words left unsaid knitted together with a memory of that summer. Occasionally to be pulled out to fondly remember that summer.

Years later we meet again. I still weave stories and you were still confident. No, we can’t go back to that summer. Despite the unsaid feelings, I will always remember the summer I pretended you were mine.
~Brandy

Sail Boats: Short Story

The bay scented the air as it blew through Eliza’s hair. She watched the sail boats drift by. Summer was around the corner and that meant her best friend would be back. 

Eliza was named after Eliza Bennet from her mom’s favorite book, Pride and Prejudice. She had never read it but she planned to over the summer. 

It has been a long school year, Eliza attended West Virginia University studying to be a nurse. While Caleb attended NYU studying the law. At the end of their freshman and sophomore years they found themselves back at home sitting on the docks watching the sail boats. But last summer Caleb didn’t come home. He had met someone and he spent the summer with her. Eliza wasn’t bothered by it, until she realized she missed his commentary on the sail boats. Missing the brown hair that would get blown over his hazel eyes. Maybe she always loved him. When Christmas came and Caleb brought his girlfriend home. He had his hair cut and styled short and wore a suit. He looked nothing like the Caleb she knew. He had asked Eliza to keep her distance because apparently his girlfriend wasn’t fond of the idea of a girl being best friends with Caleb. So from a distance Eliza observed. She had hoped that the feelings would go away with time, but by the time she was back in her apartment by the college that she realized those feelings were staying put. 

She almost didn’t come home this summer. Yet the pull of the bay, the docks and the steamed crabs her dad made was strong. That is why Eliza was sitting on the dock watching the sail boats. She had her black hair in a messy bun on top her head and her big sunglasses shielded her blue eyes from the sun. When she heard familiar footsteps and out of the corner of her eye see Caleb easing himself next to her on the dock hair grown out and looking so much like himself her heart started to ache. Then he took her hand in his own and looked out at the sail boats. Eliza smiled and knew that summer would be different. 

Oh! What A Beautiful Day! 

  
Oh! What a beautiful day we have been given! 

As the sun sets behind the trees and the wind nips your nose kissing the warm air bye for the day.

The corners of my heart take in the joy of the evening as another day comes to a close. 

A peace fills my soul with the wonder of creation as the sound of the water rushing past me. 

As I sit and take in the beauty and listen to the sound of the nature around me, I sit amazed. 

A day that reminds me that Winter is playing it’s final song as Spring’s song begins. 

Oh! What a beautiful day we have been given.

A Prayer Walk

  
The cold air wrapping it’s icy fingers around me as the rain hit my face like little needles. My mouth moving in prayer. “Lord I look to you in all my seasons”

Numb and soaked with cloud tears The sound of my sneakers hitting the pavement. I pray ” I look to you with all my heart, Lord”

The leaves pale on the trees add color to my walk. The sound of the creek brings me comfort. I pray “Everything I need, you provide”

The vast fields, the wide road ahead. I pray ” I look to you in joy and in tears. In heartache you heal me here and now”

As I conclude my walk, I am at peace. I thank “Everything I need, You provide”

~ Brandy