Here is my very first short story ever written, please let me know what you think.
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It all began on a quiet spring evening. I was taking a stroll with my dog, a mutt I picked up from the local animal shelter to ease the pain after a breakup, when I spotted the most beautiful red rose growing by the side of an overflowing dumpster. It was an odd site, the flower’s velvety petals juxtaposed with the trash heap, which smelled of spoiled milk and was being circled by a swarm of flies.
I was suddenly mesmerized; no longer in control of my actions. As I leaned in for a closer look, the trash pile dissipated. The scent coming from the flower was intoxicating. As I stepped away and continued walking, I found I was no longer on my block. I’d come to an eerie field. It was an affront to almost every sense. It was such a blinding white that my eyes began to ache and wouldn’t stay open. There was an eardrum shattering noise emanating from the distance. The once enjoyable scent of the rose was now toxic, making my eyes water. As far as I could tell I was the only one there; my companion no longer by my side.
My head was throbbing, my heart was racing, and my stomach was doing somersaults. I had no idea where I was any longer or what to do next. I stood still, dumbfounded, for what felt like hours. Finally, I decided to walk into the humming chaos that was sounding in the distance.
It was odd, but as I got closer to the noise, it seemed to become quieter, almost soothing. I could never in a million years expect what was to happen next. I approached what appeared to be the origin of the sound with apprehension which melted into glee. I saw a gigantic, chubby infant, easily over 10 feet tall. She was babbling and drooling all over her rotund, naked belly. She leaned in to inspect me and picked me up with her fat, baby fingers, which were covered in drool. “Lo-di-lo-di-lo-di” she babbled. At that moment the sky ripped in two, a beam of red light came down from the sky and penetrated my chest, the next thing I knew I was transported yet again.
This time I was in a long hallway, at the end of which was a door with a slither of white light peeking out from under the doorway. I entered the room with apprehension. Inside was a naked classroom with a chalkboard, an open windows and one desk. There was a young child at the desk. She was blurry, a mass of wavy lines and bright colors. She chanted, “Zunta, Zunta, Zunta”. She looked oddly familiar, but I was not sure where I had seen her before because I could not get a clear image. I was no longer sure of anything. As I approached her, she grew smaller. She was the size of an ant when I stood next to her, and then a breeze from the open window carried her away. I walked over to the window to see where she had gone. As I stared out at the playground outside the very ground beneath my feet erupted, I slipped through a crack in the floor and slid down a giant red slide.
I landed softly on my feet in another classroom with a chalkboard and another solitary desk. This time, the person sitting in the desk looked exactly like me, except that her eyes were all white. She did not notice me standing there. She was entranced by the book in front of her. I asked her, “Where am I?” No response. This time I shouted, “WHERE AM I? WHAT IS THIS PLACE?” She looked up from her book and stared through me. She pointed at the open door which led to a long hallway. I peered down the hallway and saw an old woman at the end of the hallway. Her long gray locks formed an arrow directing myself to her.
I started walking down the hallway. However, as I walked the hallway got longer and longer, until I was miles from the old woman. The walk took hours, but finally I had arrived. The old woman looked at me kindly with her soft brown eyes. “Sit my child, have some water after your long journey”. I quickly gulped down five full glasses of ice cold water. I thanked the woman and asked her if she could help me understand the events of the day.
The old woman said, “My child, you have seen several versions of yourself. I say versions because these people are all in existence at the same time, albeit different places. I know to you it seems like you started out as a baby and grew into the person you know as yourself, but in reality you have been the person you are now, the woman who stands in front of me, for all of time. You acquired memories and experiences from the other versions of yourself as you needed them”. “I don’t understand; this doesn’t make sense. Why, w-why today, why now. Why am I learning this?” I asked. “Don’t you remember”?, the old woman asked. I could remember nothing other than the events of this strange day, as if I had never existed at all and had no memories or experiences of my very own. “Sometimes, a thing happens which causes a rift in the very fabric of time and allows you to exist alongside the other versions of yourself. For you that was a tragic experience. You received the news this evening that your mother has died. Your soul was in so much pain, you were in danger of falling out of existence. We brought you here so you can see, nothing is permanent; everything is an illusion. Your mother still exists as other versions of herself. It is just the version of her as you knew her today that is gone”, said the old woman. “You have to reconcile this within yourself before we can send you back, or I am afraid you will no longer exist.” I didn't know how to respond to this, my head swirled with a thousand thoughts. How could I not remember that my mother had died? How did she die? How will I live without her?
My mother was a nurse when she was younger, before she was married and before she had me and my brothers. She would always tell us stories of her past life. She was a nurse on a cancer ward so she had to face death often. She would always tell us we must appreciate every day we have been given. As a young child she would tell me not to worry because she would always be with me no matter what happened.
As I thought of that memory from childhood, I suddenly felt lighter than air. I was floating up into the sky. I saw the old woman, the lady, the young child, and the baby. Then everything went black. I woke up and found that I was on the floor of a hospital room, surrounded by my siblings. It was true. My mother had died; she lost her long battle with breast cancer. My brother told me I fainted when he delivered the news to me. I was only out for a few seconds. As I looked down the hallway, I saw a young nurse wheeling a stretcher. She looked just like a younger version of my mother. She gave me a quick nod, and my mother’s words echoed in my head, “I will always be here with you”.
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It all began on a quiet spring evening. I was taking a stroll with my dog, a mutt I picked up from the local animal shelter to ease the pain after a breakup, when I spotted the most beautiful red rose growing by the side of an overflowing dumpster. It was an odd site, the flower’s velvety petals juxtaposed with the trash heap, which smelled of spoiled milk and was being circled by a swarm of flies.
I was suddenly mesmerized; no longer in control of my actions. As I leaned in for a closer look, the trash pile dissipated. The scent coming from the flower was intoxicating. As I stepped away and continued walking, I found I was no longer on my block. I’d come to an eerie field. It was an affront to almost every sense. It was such a blinding white that my eyes began to ache and wouldn’t stay open. There was an eardrum shattering noise emanating from the distance. The once enjoyable scent of the rose was now toxic, making my eyes water. As far as I could tell I was the only one there; my companion no longer by my side.
My head was throbbing, my heart was racing, and my stomach was doing somersaults. I had no idea where I was any longer or what to do next. I stood still, dumbfounded, for what felt like hours. Finally, I decided to walk into the humming chaos that was sounding in the distance.
It was odd, but as I got closer to the noise, it seemed to become quieter, almost soothing. I could never in a million years expect what was to happen next. I approached what appeared to be the origin of the sound with apprehension which melted into glee. I saw a gigantic, chubby infant, easily over 10 feet tall. She was babbling and drooling all over her rotund, naked belly. She leaned in to inspect me and picked me up with her fat, baby fingers, which were covered in drool. “Lo-di-lo-di-lo-di” she babbled. At that moment the sky ripped in two, a beam of red light came down from the sky and penetrated my chest, the next thing I knew I was transported yet again.
This time I was in a long hallway, at the end of which was a door with a slither of white light peeking out from under the doorway. I entered the room with apprehension. Inside was a naked classroom with a chalkboard, an open windows and one desk. There was a young child at the desk. She was blurry, a mass of wavy lines and bright colors. She chanted, “Zunta, Zunta, Zunta”. She looked oddly familiar, but I was not sure where I had seen her before because I could not get a clear image. I was no longer sure of anything. As I approached her, she grew smaller. She was the size of an ant when I stood next to her, and then a breeze from the open window carried her away. I walked over to the window to see where she had gone. As I stared out at the playground outside the very ground beneath my feet erupted, I slipped through a crack in the floor and slid down a giant red slide.
I landed softly on my feet in another classroom with a chalkboard and another solitary desk. This time, the person sitting in the desk looked exactly like me, except that her eyes were all white. She did not notice me standing there. She was entranced by the book in front of her. I asked her, “Where am I?” No response. This time I shouted, “WHERE AM I? WHAT IS THIS PLACE?” She looked up from her book and stared through me. She pointed at the open door which led to a long hallway. I peered down the hallway and saw an old woman at the end of the hallway. Her long gray locks formed an arrow directing myself to her.
I started walking down the hallway. However, as I walked the hallway got longer and longer, until I was miles from the old woman. The walk took hours, but finally I had arrived. The old woman looked at me kindly with her soft brown eyes. “Sit my child, have some water after your long journey”. I quickly gulped down five full glasses of ice cold water. I thanked the woman and asked her if she could help me understand the events of the day.
The old woman said, “My child, you have seen several versions of yourself. I say versions because these people are all in existence at the same time, albeit different places. I know to you it seems like you started out as a baby and grew into the person you know as yourself, but in reality you have been the person you are now, the woman who stands in front of me, for all of time. You acquired memories and experiences from the other versions of yourself as you needed them”. “I don’t understand; this doesn’t make sense. Why, w-why today, why now. Why am I learning this?” I asked. “Don’t you remember”?, the old woman asked. I could remember nothing other than the events of this strange day, as if I had never existed at all and had no memories or experiences of my very own. “Sometimes, a thing happens which causes a rift in the very fabric of time and allows you to exist alongside the other versions of yourself. For you that was a tragic experience. You received the news this evening that your mother has died. Your soul was in so much pain, you were in danger of falling out of existence. We brought you here so you can see, nothing is permanent; everything is an illusion. Your mother still exists as other versions of herself. It is just the version of her as you knew her today that is gone”, said the old woman. “You have to reconcile this within yourself before we can send you back, or I am afraid you will no longer exist.” I didn't know how to respond to this, my head swirled with a thousand thoughts. How could I not remember that my mother had died? How did she die? How will I live without her?
My mother was a nurse when she was younger, before she was married and before she had me and my brothers. She would always tell us stories of her past life. She was a nurse on a cancer ward so she had to face death often. She would always tell us we must appreciate every day we have been given. As a young child she would tell me not to worry because she would always be with me no matter what happened.
As I thought of that memory from childhood, I suddenly felt lighter than air. I was floating up into the sky. I saw the old woman, the lady, the young child, and the baby. Then everything went black. I woke up and found that I was on the floor of a hospital room, surrounded by my siblings. It was true. My mother had died; she lost her long battle with breast cancer. My brother told me I fainted when he delivered the news to me. I was only out for a few seconds. As I looked down the hallway, I saw a young nurse wheeling a stretcher. She looked just like a younger version of my mother. She gave me a quick nod, and my mother’s words echoed in my head, “I will always be here with you”.
