Short Stories and Poems

Monday, 31 October 2011

Peppered Revenge

Peppered Revenge

Written September, 2011 By Yours Truly

This was an in-class short story writng assignment. Here were the requirements:

1. "Majory's face began to turn blue" needs to have a place in the middle of the story
2. The last line needs to read "Not everyone can be so wise, so young"
3. And I'll leave you all guessing about what the opening line requirements were

  “I can’t believe you would go behind my back and decide to plan everything yourself Marjory; that was an extremely bitchy thing to do.” I was fuming. I had been planning the charity ball for months already, and it was Marjory who had convinced everyone on the committee that it wasn’t going to run successfully. She would constantly complain we didn’t have enough sponsors, or we didn’t have enough guests, or the tickets were too expensive. So, we cancelled it. 

     “I didn’t go behind your back Stephanie, and I didn’t plan everything myself. Amy, Carol and I just happened to stumble upon a few ideas for the ball while we were at the PR seminar. We...” I tuned her out at this point. All I could think about was that Marjory was a lying snake and I wanted to get revenge. Amy and Carol walked into the office and of course they came to Marjory’s defence.

 “No one’s to blame here Stephanie. We all just want to put on a really good ball,” said Carol. She only has a backbone when it’s supported by Marjory; so naive. 

     Before I could get any more upset, I left the office and headed for the fridge in the staffroom.

“Hey Stephanie, I wanted to run something by you for the Lollipop Bling launch party.”

    “Not now Dave, I’m on a mission,” I said in a huff. I scrambled through the fridge looking for Marjory’s lunch. I opened the container of spaghetti she brings almost every day, grabbed some cayenne pepper from the cupboard, and mixed a ton of it in with the sauce. I knew it was juvenile, but I figured it would make me feel better, at least for the time being anyway.

     I walk back into the office halfway through lunch to find everyone crowding around Marjory. 

“Somebody do something,” screamed Amy. 

“Call 911,” a voice called out. Everyone was in a panic as Marjory’s face began to turn blue. 

“I think she’s having an allergic reaction,” shouted Dave.

“Impossible,” Carol shouted back. “She’s only allergic to cayenne pepper and she’s not stupid enough to put it into her own lunch.” 

     Uh-oh. What have I done? I’m killing her!

     Before I could react, Marjory reached for a vile from her purse, opened it, and swallowed its contents. In just a few seconds she was able to control her breathing and her face slowly began to return to its natural tan colour. I suppose someone did manage to call 911 because a few minutes later, paramedics showed up and took Marjory to the hospital for observation. 

     I know I shouldn’t have acted in such a childish manner, and I probably should have confessed to Marjory afterwards or at least see how she was doing. But buzz around the office is that she’s okay now, so there’s no reason to throw myself under the bus. I guess I have a lot of growing up to do but hey, not everyone can be so wise, so young.

Thursday, 27 October 2011

A Poem for Lindsay!

I wrote this about a month ago but figured since it's a work of art, it needed to be shared:D

As her eye lids begin to blink heavily and slow,
She realizes at any minute, consciousness will go.
She fights to stay focused, to stay alert, be aware,
But there’s too much fatigue beneath her curly red hair.
Head snapping back as if just heard a gong,
She wakes up in time to join the rest of CreComm!

Want to get to know this beautiful sleepy red head? Check out Lindsay's blog!

Wednesday, 5 October 2011

Familiar Stranger

I wrote this flas fiction story for my Creative Writing class, but this is the extended version of what I submitted. The word count maximum for the assignment was 500 words and this original story was around 1200 so I had to chop it in half for my submission. I hope you enjoy and remember, feedback is always appreciated!

Familiar Stranger

Written by: Charmaine J. Jennings

September 20^th, 2011 

     “Why is this kid still staring at us?” She has been awkwardly looking this way for at least ten minutes. Jared has his back turned to her and every time I tell him to look at her, she conveniently manages to look the other way. I’m sure she’s mainly staring at Jared. A lot of young girls seem to like him because with his crystal clear blue eyes, dimples, and his brown hair that always manages to get into his eyes, he kind of looks like an older Zac Efron. “Okay now! You see what I mean?” Finally Jared’s eye catches her looking this way. “Ya, I guess she is staring this way. Who cares? Let’s hurry up and go so we can avoid the line at the theatre”. 

     I grab both of our trays and head towards the garbage. According to Jared, if you throw away your trash yourself, the food court cleaners are left with nothing to do. We head on down towards the theatre and of course there’s already a long line forming. “See Shannon, I told you there was going to be a line up”. As the line slowly moves ahead, I can feel someone’s bag brushing up against my back. Why some people feel the need to stand extremely close to you in line I’ll never know. I turn around slightly to get a glimpse of the person who doesn’t understand the concept of personal space. I recognize the dark curly hair and the pale yellow oversized cardigan. I tap Jared on the shoulder, “That girl from the food court is behind me now”. 

     I didn’t notice her sitting with anyone earlier, and she doesn’t appear to be standing in line with anyone now. What kind of kid goes to the movies alone?  “Stop worrying about the kid Shannon; I’m pretty sure she’s not purposely following us”. I always thought of Jared as the voice of reason, but something about this girl is making me wildly suspicious.

     Jared and I walk home after the movie and I have this strange feeling that someone is creeping behind us. I turn around only to find no one there. We continue with our walk and decide to take a shortcut through the park. As the sun begins to set, I see the shadow of someone sitting up ahead at a park bench. As we get closer, the shadow becomes clear. “Tell me I’m crazy Jared, I dare you. There’s that damn girl again. Why is she showing up everywhere we go?” Jared finally admits that seeing this girl everywhere is getting weird. “Alright, it is pretty strange that we’re seeing her again. But there’s no reason to freak out; she’s just a kid.” 

     I really don’t care if she’s just a kid or a ninety-year-old woman; I just want to know why she’s following us. I march sternly up to the girl, despite Jared’s best efforts to pull me back. “Excuse me; is there a reason why you’ve been following me and my boyfriend all afternoon? I mean, I noticed you staring at him in the food court, and accepted the fact that maybe it was a coincidence that you ended up behind us in line at the movies, but this is getting ridiculous.” She didn’t say anything at first. This girl who had no problem watching us and hanging around all day was suddenly shy. She slowly kicked her feet back and forth on the bench as she stared at the ground. “I-I wasn’t staring at him.” I had a hard time hearing her as she mumbled towards the ground. “I said I wasn’t staring at him. I-I uh, I was staring at you”. Although I’m sure she was trying to hide it, she quickly wiped away a tear the fell to her cheek. 

     “Why were you staring at me? And why are you crying?” Another long pause prompted Jared to ask a few questions of his own. “What’s your name sweetie?” Still looking down at her shoes she whispered, “M-my name’s Cynthia.” Her hands started to tremble as she rubbed them together nervously. “Cynthia. That’s a nice name. How old are you Cynthia?” Jared’s always been good with kids. “Twelve.” I was still anxious to know what her deal was, so I kneeled down in front of her and again asked why she was staring at me earlier. “I just wanted meet you but I didn’t know what to say, so I-I kept following you around until I could find the words”. My heart instantly began to beat faster and faster. It became increasingly hard to control my breathing and now I was the one who couldn’t speak. I wasn’t entirely sure what did it for me. Was it was the glimpse of hazel I saw in her eyes, or the way she began to nervously bite down on the corner of her lip, the same way I do when I’m nervous? I couldn’t tell; I wasn’t sure what triggered this vivid wave of emotions, but I knew I had to pull myself together until I knew for sure.

      “Shannon, are you okay? You don’t look so good.” I couldn’t focus on anything Jared was saying at this point; all I could focus on was trying to look into Cynthia’s eyes. Looking into her eyes would either confirm or deny what I was thinking. 

 “H-how old did you say you were again?” She slowly and hesitantly lifted her head until her blue eyes with specs of hazel, filled with tears, met with my blue eyes with specs of hazel, filled with tears. “I’m twelve; I’ll be 13 in…” “Three months from today…” we both answered quietly but together.

     Without hesitation or warning, I leaped up off of my knees, pulling Cynthia up with me. I quickly wrapped my arms around her shoulders, and locked her in with a tight embrace. Without a second to spare, she threw her skinny little arms around my waist and did the same. As she cried into my blouse, tears the size of gumballs fell from my cheeks and found their way into her curly brown hair. I’ve only dreamed about this moment, but never thought I would be lucky enough for it to come true. I’ve loved her from the moment I set eyes on her, and knew that my love for her would never dwindle down or vanish. Although my love was strong, I knew that if I truly loved her, I would have to let her go. I would have to give her a chance at a better life than I could provide for her at the time. I was young, naïve, scared. I was 14 years old when I had Cynthia, although I didn’t name her Cynthia. I was told by my mother that naming her would only make feel attached, and make it that much harder to give her up. But as much as I can dwell on the past, all I want to do now is focus on the present; holding my daughter.

Sunday, 2 October 2011

Eulogy: Burnt Toast

This is something I wrote a couple of years ago for a writing class....

Eulogy: Burnt Toast

     January 26^th was a sad day for all of us. It was the day our beloved Burnt Toast was laid to rest. Burnt was not always toast. When he was born he started off as a freshly baked slice of bread. His mother, Wonder, always bragged about her son while living in the bread shop. Mrs. Bread continuously went on about how Burnt would grow up and venture into the outside world to become the perfectly cooked piece of toast, lightly buttered and heavily jammed, just as he had always dreamed. Burnt had a very optimistic personality and enjoyed snuggling up to his family; he loved and cared for them dearly.

     Although his tragic death was a shock to all of us, this sort of thing, unfortunately, happens to slices of bread all over the world. Every day there are many slices of bread that go into many different toasters, expecting to come out lightly toasted and ready for human consumption. More often than we would like to acknowledge, hundreds of bread slices find themselves stuck in malfunctioning toasters, unable to free themselves before their once white fully skin turns black and rock-hard. These malfunctioning toasters continue to break down causing the inside burners to lock, trapping innocent bread slices. Because of this terrible phenomena, Burnt`s family has started a “Fix Malfunctioning Toasters” campaign in Burnt`s name, as a way of keeping is spirit alive not only in our hearts, but in the hearts of bread all across the globe.