10-Minute, Workshop Assigned Short Stories - Carlos Santaella

A. 1^st:  Death and an Afterlife Event

“Limbo”

            A hazy fog:  dense and heavy.  Hours may have passed, but the vision never became any clearer.  Upon regaining control of a corporeal form, previous limp body, he wandered.  Blind, as one feels in a darkened form, feeling around for walls, a guide, security.  But none was granted to him.

            The only thought that managed to cling to his mind was of a precaution, to rush for time was short.  But, what was the hurry? He pondered.  He wouldn’t getting anywhere fast.  And that’s when it hit him.  The fog cleared as his mind knew, that common cliché rattling his weak control of worldly memory.  He had to find her.

            Though the fog dissipated, no destination immediately presented itself.  Where was he supposed to go?  How would he even find her?  A powerful surge suddenly boomed throughout the dark world.  It became a translucent grey, light shining from aboce.  He was too late.  Just as he sobbed, accepting defeat, there she was.  Slumped, on the floor, shredded clothing enwrapping her tender body. 

As soon as he gazed upon her, his legs began to sink through the grey floor as it became muddy and adhesive.  The grey walls, now steadily growing brighter, giving a chrome reflection, closed in on the pair.  She was so close his waist already under the fabricated surface, his legs feeling the crisp world on the other side.  Her hand was inches from his.  Why couldn’t she just reach?  Just then, abruptly, her face appeared from under the shawls, harsh eyes stabbing at his feeble being and declared, “Why can’t you just leave me alone?”  He didn’t want to believe that question was directed to him, and perhaps it wasn’t, for he knew this dark dimension could play the nastiest of tricks.  Nevertheless, his spirit was broken, heavy and sunk.  And now, accepting bitter defeat, he let himself completely sink through the barrier, the strong white glare pounding his weak eyes in one last, cruel taunt.  Tears of liquid silver were left behind.

~Fin~

 

B. 2^nd:  Thieves took everything but one Important Item

“Thieves in the Darkest Night”

            Finished with my exhausting day, I dragged my body through the entrance, cursing under my breath as I fumbled with the glitchy lock.  Becoming more and more frustrate, I began to curse under my breath when, about that time, I angrily pulled the door onto my big toe.  Yelping and limping and hopping throughout the entrance, I hobbled blindly—in the dark since I forgot to turn on the light switch—to the armchair I expected to be there to catch me.  It wasn’t

Man, of all the things that could go wrong, am I right?!  Even though I’m not as tired anymore, I am crancky, my big toe is throbbing, and my underside is numb.  Why, why, why is this happening to me?  Where is Chester, to comfort me and lift my spirits as only a New England Terrier could?  That’s when it hit me, not like the door on my cuticle, but I mean it HIT me:  WHERE THE HELL WAS MY STUFF?!?  I’ve been robbed!

            The couches, the counters, the countertops, the wallpapers, the sink…the list of vacancy just goes on and on.  Even the resident mouse, Bartholomew, and his stereotypical mouse hole was brutally pried out of the wall.  Panic swelled within me as I ran around the house, ignoring   my previous accident and my now-bleeding toe.  Then I remembered Chester again.  Even Chester was taken away from me.  Those sick bastards!  Why, how could they do this to me?  I looked everywhere, in every corner, for a sign, some sort of clue if any was present.  Surely enough, there it was, smack-dab in the center of the living room.  I would’ve gotten a tape measure to check its perfect bisecting point of the spaciously empty living room, but they broke into the tool shed, too.  My hand, cell phone already posed to call the cops, lowered slightly in defeat.  These men…I remember them now.  Some supernatural freaks I recorded committing an act of murder with only their minds.  A conspiracy theory, a stupid hoax, many taunted.  But there it was as proof.  Hovering centimeters from the ground, twirling slightly and freely suspended in a haunting reminder of their previous presence, was the tell-tale object.  No one would believe me, and the cops wouldn’t understand.  A burnt photograph, all I had left of the old home, with everything, even my remaining family members hollowed out.  These sickos planned to take everything away from me, a perfect revenge scheme without a trace.  And how could I stop them?

~Fin~