Short Story #2

First Draft, 2 Pages

“It’s not fair.” she said it in a flat tone, stating the fact cooly, her eyes narrowing slightly. Daniel sighed in response, exasperation overtaking him that way only possible for 9 year old boys. 

“Mira, I don’t know how many more times I can tell you this: LIFE ISN’T FAIR.” he emphasized the last three words, annunciating the syllables to further prove how often he had to say this. 

“Danny that doesn’t matter, you know that doesn’t matter!” Mira’s expression remained stonelike, but heat was creeping onto her cheeks and her voice was rising. “It’s my cake Danny, it was for my birthday.” she added. 

“Your birthday was a week ago.” 

“THAT doesn’t matter!” 

“Yes it does. It isn’t your cake, it was for your birthday, which is over now and I got to it first.” 

Daniel took the opportunity to pat the lump in his jacket pocket and shoot Mira a grin. This, he decided, was a mistake as she aimed her boot with deadly accuracy at his shin. Daniel was sent hoping and howling down the forest path on one foot, clutching his battered left leg, his single hoping foot churning up golden autumn leaves. 

“That wasn’t very nice Mira.” but the voice held an edge more humor than true reprimand. Mira whirled on Benji, snickering. 

“He looks like a kangaroo with one foot.” Mira’s reply. 

Mira was wearing a blue sweatshirt and a flowered skirt flowed around her ankles as she skipped along. Her blonde curls bounced around her head. Her champion and victim Daniel was wearing overalls, pockets stuffed with knick knacks and tools. His hair was dark and straight. Hazel eyes that sparkled in the dazzling autumn canopy. 

The final member of the trio was Benji. He was small, and was wearing a brown jacket and cargo shorts. His hair was a mess of curly brown feathers and his eyes were dark and keen. He walked quietly and carefully, as if he were trying to balance the moaning and cursing from the other boy. 

They had been walking for hours. They talked of nothing, bickering about this and that, discussing the treasure they had found amongst the forest floor. But after a time the life had gone out of their conversation, and they traveled together in silence, winding their way over creeks and through clearings, content with the stirring their own thoughts. 

This had lasted until Mira had noticed the suspicious bulge in Daniel’s pocket and inquired as to its nature. Daniel was now plumped down on a rotting log nursing his shin. The other two took the opportunity to occupy a large rock sitting adjacent. 

They were all relieved to be sitting for different reasons. Daniel ofcourse simply wanted the throbbing in his shin to subside. Mira was tired and enjoyed Danny’s justice far too intensely not to observe. Benji was looking for birds in the tree branches. Dark eyes darting about.

2nd Draft, Complete

What’s Next

By Thomas Norgang

October 19th, hour 2342, Dispatch 931 Coos County, NH

“911 what is your emergency.”

“Hi, there’s been a car accident on Old Fletcher road, just past the mill. It looks pretty bad.”

“Alright Ma’am can you state your full name please.” 

“Tanya, Tanya Bardworth.” 

“Alright Tanya, are any passengers in the vehicle injured at this time?” 

“I’m not sure, I can’t really see. My husband is trying to–” 

“Ma’am? Mrs Bardworth are you there?” 

“There are injured passengers! Lot’s of them. Please send help!” 

“Ma’am I need you to stay calm, help is already on the way. How many patients are there at this time?” 

“I don’t know, I don’t know! Just send help, they’re just kids!”

…

“It’s not fair.” her eyes narrowed, tone flat, chin held high. Daniel sighed, exasperation overtaking him completely, in that way only possible for 11 year old boys. 

“Mira, I don’t know how many more times I can tell you this: LIFE ISN’T FAIR.” he emphasized the last three words, annunciating each syllable to prove how often he had to repeat himself. 

“Danny that doesn’t matter, you know that doesn’t matter!” Mira’s expression remained stoney, but heat was creeping onto her cheeks and her voice was rising. “They’re my cookies, for my birthday.” she added. 

“Your birthday was a week ago.” 

“THAT doesn’t matter!” 

“Yes it does. They aren’t your cookies, they were for your birthday, which is over now and I got to them first.” 

Daniel took the opportunity to pat the lump in his jacket pocket and shoot Mira a grin. This, he decided, was a mistake as she aimed her boot at his shin. Daniel was sent hoping one footed down the forest path, howling as he went. Golden autumn leaves swirled around his remaining ankle. 

“That wasn’t very nice Mira.” but the voice held a wisp more humor than true reprimand. Mira whirled on Benji, laughing openly, her face lit up.  

“He looks like a kangaroo with one foot.” Mira mused, laughing happily. 

Miras yellow, flowered skirt flowed like water around her ankles as she skipped along. Her blonde curls bounced around her head. Her companion (and victim) Daniel was wearing overalls, pockets stuffed with knick knacks, and ofcourse, cookies. His hair was dark and straight. His hazel eyes sparkled in the dazzling autumn light by the golden, oaken canopy. 

The final member of the trio was Benji. He was small, and was wearing a brown jacket and cargo shorts. His hair was a mess of curly, brown feathers. His eyes were dark and keen. He walked quietly and carefully, as if he were trying to balance the moaning and cursing from the other boy with the pose and precision of someone much older than his 13 years. 

They had been walking for hours. They talked of nothing, bickering about this and that, discussing the treasures they had found amongst the forest floor. But after a time the life had gone out of their conversation, and they traveled together in silence, winding their way over creeks and through clearings, content with the stirring of their own thoughts. The woods whispered. The children shuffled by. 

This lasted until Mira noticed the suspicious bulge in Daniel’s pocket and inquired as to its nature. Now Daniel was sunk down on a rotting log nursing his shin. The other two took the opportunity to occupy an adjacent rock. 

All three were relieved to sit for a moment. Daniel ofcourse simply wanted the throbbing in his shin to subside. Mira was tired and enjoyed Danny’s justice far too intensely not to observe. Benji was looking for birds in the tree branches. Dark eyes darting about. 

“Jeez Mira don’t you think that was a little extreme?” Daniel had his pant leg rolled up and was examining the flesh for the formation of a bruise. 

“No.” she replied. “In fact I wish I’d kicked you harder.” 

“Harder?! If you’d kicked any harder my leg would’ve fallen off, and then you’d have to find a stick and give me a peg leg, and then…” 

Daniel’s list of grievances faded into background noise in Benji’s mind. His ears had caught a different sound. Suddenly his head swiveled and his eyes fixed on a point in the forest. 

“Quiet.” Mira and Daniel turned to him. “Do you guys hear that?”

The trio fell silent. Around them the forest breathed. Birds chirped and the wind whipped and whistled her secrets through the dry leaves. A rustle amongst the branches of a nearby maple. A squirrel, perhaps. Then they heard it; playing beneath the sounds of the forest, the shrill, unceasing drone of a horn.  

“Where is it coming from?” asked Mira. 

“Hell if I know.” Danny responded, looking around bewilderedly. “Could be from anywhere.” 

“This way.” and Benji was making his way into the thicket, dark eyes still fixed on some faraway place. The other two children followed him unquestioning, winding throughout the brush and tree trunks, the drone striking an increasingly minor chord against the perfect fall afternoon. A thin mist began to wind through the forest canopy. The birds no longer chirped. 

They soon found the source of the strange sound. Breaking from the tree line they came to the shoulder of a road. Black tar, highlighted by bright yellow lines, soaked up the light like a sponge, cutting through the forest, a dark vein. Benji stepped into the black abyss, his eyes fixed on its inky depths. It seemed to shimmer as his sneakers touched its surface. 

“Goddamn,” said Daniel. He was looking past Benji up the road. Benji’s eyes flitted up from the pavement and followed Daniel’s gaze. 

About 100 yards up the road lay an overturned car. A breadcrumb trail of broken plastic lay between the children and the vehicle. Great gashes had been left in the pavement leading up to the wreck. Cubes of glass sparked like diamonds and black, shining oil pooled out from the carnage like blood. The car horn wailed its lament. Mist drifted by. 

Benji stepped forward. 

“Benji!” Mira cried. He turned to her. 

“I need to see if anyones in there.” He turned and walked to the vehicle. The others waited. He circled, bent down and looked into the cab. Reaching through the broken driver’s side window, Benji turned the key and the horn ceased with a sigh. He walked back towards his friends. 

“No one. They must have left.” he said, puzzled. 

“I think we should go home.” Daniel was looking at Mira as he said it, who was turning rather pale. 

“Yeah,” said Benji, “Let’s go.” 

They returned from where they had come. As they clambered up the embankment and back into the treeline, the hair on the back of Benji’s neck stood up. He shot a glance back at the wreck of the car. Standing there was a tall thin man in a dark wool suit. His face was thin and white. His hair was clean cut and black as his suit. Their eyes met, and even with the distance between them, Benji could see the strangers eyes were a pale, icy blue. Benji blinked. The man was gone. 

“Benji!” Daniel called. “You coming?” 

“Yeah.” said Benji. “Yeah I’m coming.” and he made his way into the woods, shooting a final glance behind him as he went, but all he saw was the now silent wreck of the car. It looked almost like his Dads car, but no. Dad was at home. He jogged to catch up to his friends. 

Twilight gathered. They walked until their young legs had carried them as far as they could, then they sat. Nestled in a hollow below the sprawling roots of an oak, Daniel procured a shining chrome lighter from one of his overstuffed cover-all pockets. He announced that it had been a gift from his father, and started a fire. They shared cookies and watched the dancing flames. 

“I can’t wait to be home,” mused Daniel. “I can’t wait to tell Papa how I made a tinder bundle to start the fire.” 

“When will we get home Benji?” Mira’s eyes bore into him, asking the group’s unofficial leader a much harder question than Benji could answer. 

“Tomorrow Mira. Will be home tomorrow.” Benji tried to give a reassuring smile but it felt stretched on his face. 

“Don’t worry Mira we’ve been walking for so long we can’t be far now.” Daniel sprayed cookie crumbs as he spoke. “I mean how many days have been out here now? Three? More?” 

Silence fell on the group. They were all asking the same question, but only Benji had an answer, and he didn’t like it. 

It was Daniel who broke the silence, “There was this one time, me and my Dad were fishing at Billings pond. You know it Mira, the one where I pushed you off the rock last summer. Man that was funny. Anyway, we were launching the bass boat and my Dad forgot to put the plug in, so…” 

Benji and Mira fell asleep nestled in a tangle of limbs amongst the tangle of roots. Daniel kept telling stories long after the other two had fallen asleep, soothing their fears with tales of good times and old laughs. 

In the morning he was gone. His fathers lighter sat perched on a gnarled root. They called for him, screaming into the swirling mist that still hung about the forest like smoke. Eventually they stopped calling. Mira cried softly hiding her face in her hands, her slender shoulders shaking with each sob. Benji cried openly, staring stoically ahead, tears running down his cheeks like tiny rivers. 

“We have to keep going.” Benji said as he wiped the tears from his cheeks. Mira looked up at him. 

“But… Danny. We can’t just-”

“It’s okay Mira. Danny is okay. We have to keep going. He would tell us to keep going.” 

She stared at him for a moment before nodding. 

“Okay,” she confirmed. “Let’s go.” 

They left Daniels lighter where it was, sparkling amongst the roots of the great oak, like a tiny headstone. 

As the day wore on they began to climb. Slowly at first, stepping up stone steps stacked into the trail, then steeper until they were scrambling up rocks, as if they were a pair strangely shaped mountain goats. The air grew colder as they went on. The fog swelled around them like an ocean. Benji imagined he could see faces in its undulating patterns. 

“My parents must be worried sick about me, Benji. They’re going to be so mad when I come home.” 

“I think they’ll understand. I mean, it’s not like you meant to be gone so long. We just got lost…” Benji trailed off. 

“Benji,” he winced as she said his name, “Benji, how did we get here.” 

“Mira, I don’t–” but then a sound, drifting through the fog, caught Benji’s ear. It was a humming, babbling sound. Busy and chaotic but at the same time steady within its own rhythm. 

The children looked at each other, then continued wordlessly to climb. The sound intensified as the ground began to level out. The fog was growing denser, and Benji grabbed Mira’s hand for fear of losing her in the gloom. Something jostled Benji’s shoulder and he turned, letting out a startled yelp. A shadow slid by, the mist swirling as it went. More shadows swarmed around them and the children squeezed together, cowering. The sounds were growing louder. Benji heard voices yelling, fires crackling and what sounded like a dog barking. He closed his eyes tightly hugging Mira to him. A roaring started in his ears and he could feel Miras tiny body shaking, and then silence. 

Benji felt the warm touch of sunlight on his face and a breeze tousled his hair. Cautiously, Benji opened his eyes. The fog had lifted, and the sun was shining low in the sky. They were standing at the center of a crowded marketplace, perched on the mountain side. The clouds they had been climbing through hung below them, reflecting golden light.

In every direction, there were people. People haggling over fat yellow squashes, a woman showing off recently purchased red linens, small children running between the legs of tables laughing and giggling. The smell of woodsmoke and spices filled the air and a sugar-dusting of snow covered the ground. 

“Where are we?” Benji asked aloud. They walked together, hand in hand, their young minds unable to grasp the reality of what they were seeing. They passed a man carving long, elaborate spoons, who smiled at them through a tangled white beard. Next, a woman wearing long, flowing black silks was hammering at something small and silver, her many bracelets jingling. 

“I think… I think I’ve been here before.” Mira was looking around her, a strange expression playing at the corners of her face. 

“My parents took me here once. They bought me a bracelet at that stall right there! Then they took me to…” she stopped dead in her tracks, her mouth open slightly. 

“What?” said Benji. “Mira what is it?” 

If she could hear she gave no sign of it. Then she was running.

“MOM!” she yelled, as she sped into the crowd. “Mom, I’m here!” 

“Mira! Mira, wait!” Benji gave chase, but the crowd pressed in around him. He dropped to his hands and knees, squeezing between legs and boots. He broke free and caught a glimpse of Miras golden curls, before the crowd closed around him once again. He tried to crawl again but there was nowhere to go. The bodies pressed in around him, and his ears thrummed as the crowd roared. He closed his eyes tightly, and as tears squeezed out from between his eyelids he curled up in a ball and hugged his body, waiting for it to stop. 

When Benji re-opened his eyes, he was alone. The market was empty and desolate. Stalls were overturned and merchandise was scattered across the cobblestone streets. He stood. The stars sparkled against a cold night sky. A crescent moon was rising like a pale, shining sickle. 

“Mira?” he called out, his voice echoed hollowly and he already knew he would receive no reply. 

So he began to walk once more, winding his way through the destroyed market. He walked by a pile of shattered spoons and mashed squashed, but snow was falling faster now and soon the ground was obscured by powder. Benji continued. 

The market disappeared behind him as he began once again to ascend. The snow muffled his footsteps, and it seemed as though he were floating silently up the mountain. A gentle breeze pushed the powder into sparkling drifts, as if the stars had fallen from the sky and lighted there at his feet. Later, Benji noticed the stars were in fact falling. Drifting down from the heavens to light upon the sleeves of his jacket, burning tiny cigarette-holes in the fabric. 

Benji didn’t know how long he walked for, but by the time he reached the summit the sun was beginning to break the horizon. The snow had stopped falling, and the sky was turning from inky black to glowing orange. The star studded snow shimmered in the twilight. 

At the peak of the summit was a gnarled tree, and at its base there was a man. He was wearing a dark wool suit. His hair was black and his eyes were pale blue. He looked sad sitting there, watching the sunrise. Benji approached. 

The well-dressed man turned to him as he approached. 

“Hello Benji,” his voice was soft and deep, and when he spoke the sound seemed to come from everywhere. “Come, sit.” 

Benji obliged, taking his place next to this stranger, facing the rising fire. A comfortable silence fell between the two. He felt calmer than he had in days, and still a question was nagging at the back of his brain. 

“Sir,” he said, hesitantly. “Where are my friends? Daniel and Mira, have you seen them?” 

The stranger nodded.“I have,” he replied. “They have moved on now.” 

Benji nodded. He had figured as much. 

“May I ask you something, Benji?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know who I am?” Now, Bengi nodded. 

“So you understand what I have to do?” 

“Yes,” said Benji, “I just… What about everyone here? What will happen to them?” 

“Nothing will happen to them, Benji. They will live until they stop living. Then, they will follow you. You get more time than most, children like you have such a short time on this earth, I let you stay longer than I should.” The stranger’s tone was pensive, but his eyes were sad. 

“Why me?” replied Benji, bitterly. “Why now?” 

“Why anyone? Why ever?” 

Silence fell again. The sun had broken free from the horizon now and was lighting the tops of the clouds aflame, as if a great forest fire were running wild through the land. Benji gazed into it, his brow furrowed in thought. He nodded to himself. 

“Alright,” he said, suddenly, “I’m ready.” 

A warm breeze picked itself up, tousling the boy’s hair. 

“Just like that? Ones like you, who understand what’s happening, are usually more resistant. You are sure?” 

The snow stars began to rise, one by one, swirling gently around the summit, dazzling in the morning light. 

Benji nodded, again. “If my friends are gone, I want to go with them.” 

The man studied his face, and Benji held his gaze. Somewhere, there were trumpets playing, but Benji refused to look away from the man’s face. He still had one final question. 

“So,” he said, as casually as he could manage, “what’s next?” 

The well dressed man smiled then, for the first time. It spread across his face like a wave and Benji could feel the warmth of it. The man reached out and laid his hand on Benji’s shoulder. He leaned in and Benji leaned in with him. 

“What comes next?” the man said, smiling wider. The wind was howling now and the trumpets had intensified. The fallen stars were ripping around the summit leaving glowing old streaks in Benji’s vision. His ears were ringing but when the well dressed man put his lips to Benji’s ear, his voice was clear as glass. 

“Why Benji, everything comes next.” 

…

Somewhere in the white mountains, a boy is dreaming. He is wearing a brown jacket and his hair is a mess of curly, brown feathers. His spine is broken in two places. His breaths are small and gasping. His body is entombed within the twisted, metal hunk that once comprised his fathers car. Beside him lie two others. Their bodies are still as stone, their expressions peaceful. His own breathing is sporadic now, coming in ragged bursts. His face is paper white, but his eyes still flicker beneath the lids. As his breath rattles out of his broken lungs, one might almost think they could see the hint of a smile creep into his face and perhaps, somewhere, somehow, three friends have just been reunited. 

Reflection

I really love this class. People are so kind and so helpful. They really help me understand my story better. What’s working, what’s not working. I especially appreciate how the class seemed really okay with my story leaving unanswered questions. I thought this would be something a lot of them were unhappy with, but quite the opposite seemed to be true. Everyone seemed to really understand how key these unanswered questions were to my story. I think this taught me something really interesting: you need to do what you like. I really wanted people to like my first story, and I changed things from what I wanted to what I thought would be most well received. I thought people liked that story pretty well and I had succeeded in what I’d wanted to do. This second story I just wrote the way I wanted. I didn’t think about my audience. I figured some people might enjoy my story and some people might not. I think I actually like this story much more than my last one. It has a magic to it. I think it really brings people into the little world I created and I really like that. I think that reworking this story will be really nice too. I think with a little work it will be worthy of my grandfather’s eyes. Which is exciting for me. I respect him a lot and I am proud that I think I wrote a story he will enjoy and appreciate.