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Category Archives: Stories

So… Which Is It?

This poem was written by me. Now, fair warning: It can be a bit touchy to those sensitive to sensitive topics, or hot button issues. But, this is me. This is the true me. I write what I feel is right, and stand tall against the things I believe. This is me. This is my poem. Interpret it any way you wish, but know, I love all people equal.

There’s a man,

Clinging to God’s word.

There’s  a girl,

Dreaming of a different world.

There’s a mother,

Shaking in despair.

And someone, somewhere,

Living without hair.

Sometimes we forget

To say that prayer.

So instead we click a post,

Type ‘Amen’.

Then we share a post of long-haired man.

There it is. That’s our prayer.

But did we forget,

Or did we simply not care

That their life is so unfair?

In a room,

A baby lies,

It does not whimper,

Not even cry.

Not fully formed

In the doctors eyes.

A heart flutters,

Before it stops.

No tears are shed,

But The People cry.

They throw up pickets,

Scream, “Ban this horror!”

We click the bait,

Help spread this sorrow.

Speak unread opinions,

Do nothing.

Then pout,

As if you did something.

But did we forget,

Or did we simply not care,

That it’s life was ripped unfair?

Down the road,

Blocked from view,

A cloak of vinyl,

Surrounded by crews,

Leaves the scene in nothing new.

In a flash,

A life flew by,

Due to a crash

Because of his eyes.

On the phone,

Typed the words

‘Amen’;

No good luck today,

Not for him.

But did he forget,

Or did he simply not care,

That the car he hit,

Was a family headed to the fair?

There are things unspoken,

Words unheard.

But what did you expect?

You’re part of the herd.

Break apart,

Then you’ll see,

There’s a girl, a boy, a teen, an adult, and a person,

Much like you and me,

Out there,

Clinging to the truth.

Out here,

Fighting for a turn.

Inside our mind,

It can be quite unkind.

But did we forget,

Or did we simply not care,

That all we do,

All we ever do,

Is stop, and then stare,

Moments before we hit, ‘SHARE’?

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Posted by on October 24, 2016 in Poem #1, Stories

 

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Short Story #3

THE LAST TIME
There was once a young couple, who met outside ‘Lil Bistro Café two years ago in college. During which time, they fell madly in love with each other’s quirks and faults. She, with his insatiable outlook on love and life; He, with her inability to walk and chew gum at the same time.

He has planned an evening she will never forget. An evening that will mark the beginning of the end of his life, and the start of theirs.

They meet at the café, from which they first met, and have a lovely, yet awkward, meal. She took small bites, calming the uneasiness building inside her, and he tapped his fingers on the white table cloth relentlessly.

Later that night, he walks her to her apartment and whistles a tune into the brisk air. A tiny brown pup came bolting up to them. It’s a chocolate lab, and wrapped around it’s tiny neck is a bright pink ribbon. He incorporated two of her favorite things: chocolate, and pink.

Attached to the end of the bow was a tiny velvet box. Her gasp said it all, relieving some tension pitted inside him. He opened it, and her blue eyes twinkled with the stars disbelieving this is actually happening.

“Will you marry, us?”

She looks at him and the puppy, then graciously accepts his request.

But, he added one stipulation to his proposal: That they remain married until the demise of the puppy when he is old, frail, and weak with sickness, but continue to remain in love to the end of time.

She knew this particular breed is lucky to live past ten years. She’s heard from people in the past they knew of labs lasting well up to fifteen years. Though, she didn’t care. She wanted him, to be his wife, and mother of two, future, kids; One boy. One girl.

She agreed, thinking by that time he would waive it and his memory would fail to recall such a demand.

Five years passed. Their first child was born. A little girl, named after her mother, Emily.

By the seventh year, a boy named Scotty Jr. was blessed upon them.

Ten years had finally passed, and no more children have been placed upon them. Instead, her husband became weak, frail to the touch. He seemed vacant, and appeared much older than his actual age. It has always made her worry, but when the worry persisted, he would let her know that nothing is wrong in a life filled with love.

Early that morning, the poor dog, that was once a puppy, passed away. Broke everyone’s heart, while shattering hers. Because of this, and his constant reminder for the past few weeks, she knows what to expect next.

Later that night, her hands shook with nervousness. He clasped them tight in his, and whispered into her ear, “Always love me.”

She smiled, choking back inevitable tears. She tried to ask if she should be expecting papers by the morning.

But, he doesn’t respond.

His head begins to weigh heavy on her shoulder. “Well?” She presses.

“I love you, Honey.”

Becoming furious with his dismissal, she presses harder for answers. How could she love someone, knowing they are just going to leave her? She wants to know, needs to know, what the heck is going on with her marriage. Uncertainty almost kills her. “Tell me if we are staying together, or getting divorced. Now, Scott.”

No response.

She nudges him, as he typically nods off asleep there almost every night.

His head plopped down on her pillow. Then, she sees it…

Her cries, pleas, and chest compressions prove unworthy of her saving his life. He’s not waking up, and shaking trembles of tears weave down her ivory skin.

The next morning, she is alarmed of the news.

A letter, addressed to her, from Scott, ten years ago, lands inside the mailbox.

 

Dear Emily,

I hope you are not upset. You are the love of my life, and I never dream of ever hurting you. I never intended on leaving you, nor did I intend on allowing you to put your life on hold for me.

I have cancer, and I am dying. Doctors claim I am lucky if I survive ten more years. But, I am also dying to give you the life you deserve. I know of your plans to have two kids, and one dog, then to be married to me. I want to give you everything you ever wish for. And hope that it is enough to numb the pain you might wind up feeling the moment I slip away from you.

I love you, forever, and always. I hope you will, too.

Sincerely,

Scott

 

She stared up into the, mourning, sky, and whispers through the wind, praying he hears her, “I love you, always,” and wishes she would have said it back to him, the night before.
By: Amey Coleman

 
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Posted by on September 26, 2016 in Short Story #3

 

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Short Story #2 by Amey Coleman

Melinda is walking hastily to the park bench. It is the only bench, that the giant oak tree is shading. The serene dimness of the shade, provides her foggy thoughts to shine clear.  Melinda sits down, revealing a note from her suede jacket.
The note reads: “I will be back.”
She clinches the piece of paper, hoping it is not a lie.
She looks around, waiting for Eric. Her leg begins to jump up and down, awaiting his ghostly arrival. As she starts to push herself up to leave, a man’s voice hollers, “Melinda!”
She follows the direction, in which the voice resided. She drops the note on the bench as she sees Eric standing on the other side of the park, waving his left hand.
Melinda runs to him, in utter excitement, to quickly embrace him.
“How are you here? Will you stay?” Melinda questions.
He nods his head, “I only have a few minutes, I told you I would be back. That bench is a magical bench, I just came to tell you to love again. I want you happy.”
He starts to fade away as she whimpers, “No, please stay! I love you!”
“Then love again,” his final words slid right into her heart. She looks back to see it no longer residing under the giant oak tree.
She whispers to herself, “He is right.”
Copyright © 2014 Amey Coleman

 

 

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Short Story – by Amey Coleman

Driving to work, I stopped by my favorite coffee diner. While walking in, I quickly grabbed a free copy of the towns gazette. I sat down on a bar stool, eyeing the empty seat next to me. Slowly turning my head back to the newspaper, I read the headline: “PETER IS FOUND!”

I blinked furiously, and skimmed down to see my husbands scraggly face. I widened the corners of my mouth in surprise. Out of the top of the paper, I noticed a to go cup of coffee be placed in front of me. The unusual rugged hands, seemed odd for a barista.

I asked, without looking up any further, “Do you work an outdoor job too? I may need a Gardner.”

“Mel, I survived the outdoors, living in bunkers, and barracks. If you’d like, I would much rather continue being your husband.”

I looked up, with a squeal escaping my lips, and tears rolling down my cheeks. I could feel my make up beginning to smear as I pulled him over the bar to embrace him. While sobbing, I let out, “I love you, oh my, how I missed you!”

He tightened his arms around me, and I couldn’t bare to let him go again.

I looked back down at the stool and read: “God Bless Peter Grand”

“A chair named after me?” he began to quiver his lip.

I nodded, “the chair you sat in when I first met you.”

He gently whispered, “I remember.”

 

Copyright © 2014 Amey Coleman

 

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