by Kayla Krantz
Though she knew every tree, rock, and shrub by heart, she never failed to find amazement and beauty in all the little things. We were the same age, but had drastically different personalities. I envied her childlike wonder, something I lost long ago.
I heard her giggle and turned to see her holding out her hand as a butterfly danced across her open fingers. Her smile was wide enough to show her teeth, and her moon-like eyes focused on the tiny creature before her. To her, the butterfly was the only thing that existed in that moment. She saw the beauty in its life, unlike most people.
“Where do you think butterflies go to sleep?” she asked, watching it fly away.
I caught a glimpse of its yellow wings gliding through the trees before I replied.
“Somewhere sunny, probably.”
“Help!” a shriek sounded through the woods. The tone of it was made my blood run cold. I glanced at Violet, and the look on her face was enough for me to know that she heard it too.
“Was that a person?”
I swallowed hard. “I think so.”
“What do we do?” she asked.
“Help!” the voice called again, more demanding this time.
“There could be a lot of danger,” I cautioned.
Violet shook her head. “We have to try!”
I stared at her for a moment, wondering how she could mix childlike innocence and adult seriousness in the same mind.
“Okay,” I said, “but I will lead the way.”
Violet didn’t argue. I took a few steps into the foliage, away from the safety of the trail.
“We’ll be able to find our way back, right?” she whispered.
My mind was too distracted to hear her. I was focused on the upcoming danger we would soon face. Was it an animal that could hear us coming, or something else?
“Help!” the voice urged us onwards.
We pushed our way through the brush and finally approached another clearing. Violet pushed ahead of me, despite my protests.
“It’s empty,” she said, stepping carefully across the grass. “Where’s the girl?”
“I don’t know,” I said, shaking my head. “Maybe she went deeper into the forest.”
Violet took another step forward, and that’s when I saw the carefully placed layer of twigs that covered the ground.
“Violet, wait!” I called out. Her foot slid through the leaves to the pit below. She screamed as she fell into it.
“Violet!” I screeched, rushing from the safety of the trees to the edge of the hole. I tried to peer inside to catch a glimpse of her, but it was too dark to see a thing.
“Are you okay?” I called.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” her tiny voice replied after a long moment.
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
Relief flooded through me. “Hold on, I’ll go get you help.”
That’s when I remembered that we had left the safety of the trail. I stood up slowly, as I glanced once around the clearing. I had no idea how far away we had traveled in search of that voice.
“Hey! There’s a cave!” Violet called. “I wonder where it leads!”
“Violet! Don’t go in there, you don’t know where it leads,” I warned.
“But it might be my only way out,” she said, “since we’re lost and all.”
I frowned. She was right.
I sighed in defeat.
“Okay, hang on, I’m coming down.”
Violet was silent as I swung my legs over the edge of the abyss and watched the darkness swallow them up. I took a deep breath and held it as I forced my weight to carry me down the dirty slope. I hit the bottom with a thud, groaning from the pain in my tailbone as I stood up.
“Are you alright?” Violet asked.
“Yeah, just a rough landing. Where’s the cave?”
“Behind you.”
I turned to see the faint glow of a light far away. It looked like fire, and I wondered where it would lead.
“Maybe it leads to Wonderland!”
I laughed. “Let’s just hope it’s a way out.”
“Wonderland would be good.”
I didn’t respond to that as I began to walk towards the cave. In the darkness, I felt for her hand, grasping it tightly. Together, we made our way toward it. The walls seemed to grow smaller and smaller the longer we traveled.
“It’s getting hard to breathe,” Violet complained.
“I know,” I cooed, as we took another step forward.
An unearthly screeched from up ahead. We ducked into the shadows, only to see that the cave opened into a dimly lit cavern. Tiny troll-like creatures climbed the walls. Their eyes glowed red as they peered around.
“What are those?” Violet asked, mesmerized. She jerked her hand away and sprang from the shadows. All at once, the creatures turned to look at her. Curiosity killed the cat.
When we force something to fit where it doesn't belong, it breaks.
When surrounded by people who can't appreciate our beauty, humans do the same.
Various Drabbles
A drabble is a short story written in 100 words or less.
Live Autopsy
The mortician heard the thumps and groans from the other room, but ignored it, continuing his search for scalpels in the supply closet. Finally grasping them in his hand, he crossed the building—ready to face his new, noisy assistant, and to see what he had been up to in since he left. As he set foot into the morgue, the sounds stopped.
"Were we done with the autopsy?" he called out, looking at the empty table. Bloody footsteps formed a trail from the table to the open door—and his assistant was gone.
Stunted
The hundred-year-old oak tree was the oldest plant in my garden—not to mention, the biggest. I gave it less care than my other plants, but every day it increased in size. It wasn’t long before one of its massive roots churned through my garden, and I had to redesign. I resolved to try again, on a different plot of land—as far away from the oak tree as I could go. Gathering my gardening supplies in my hand, I opened the door…only to realize that the oak’s roots had sealed off my only way of escape.
Portrait
I hated the painting from the moment my roommate hung it up. It was of an old woman, and looked like one of those pictures where the eyes would follow you across the room the moment you turned your back.
“You’ve watched too many horror movies,” she said when I tried to voice my complaints. She wasn’t home as often as I was—just like tonight. I rolled my eyes at the painting and retreated to my room. I heard a thump from downstairs. Rushing back down, past the painting, I realized the woman was gone.
Traffic Barrels
It was that time of year again; I couldn’t drive without coming across those blasted orange-and-white traffic barrels. They lined the highway like ugly flowers. Whenever I saw them, it was bound to be a bad day. They had the same effect on everyone else too—when they appeared, the traffic became as hellish as their attitudes. It took five detours to drive to work one day, and something close to seven on another.
At the sight of another traffic jam, I slammed my head into the steering wheel. What a nightmare.
The Gift
The gaudy dress was a gift—I never thought it would’ve been taken as an insult, though it was obvious I hadn’t put thought into what to give her. The ugly gown started the fight, but I wasn’t sure exactly when it ended. It was a few hours later that I found myself sitting on the lawn, surrounded by my belongings. That was as good of an
end as any.
Life’s funny like that, it can change at the drop of a hat, I thought, glancing at the baseball cap beside me. Literally.
Old Friends
“Don’t argue, you have to leave now,” the bodyguard said, folding his arms across his chest to exaggerate his point.
I sighed, knowing I wouldn’t win. Stealing one last glance over his shoulder, I peered at the table inside. My friend sat at the head, hosting the event I wo
uld’ve been an essential part of years ago. I
knew we were steadily drifting apart, but it wasn’t until this particular moment that I noticed. I turned away, feeling reserved. It’s odd how people who meant so much to each other could
become such strangers.
Too Old
The war was heavy—the battlefront reached the castle in a matter of days. The Supreme cast down her hat as she looked out through the bay window overlooking the great yard outside. She saw the enemy coming, and knew what it meant—her apprentice was killed in the battle. Time was a thing she could not afford to waste. With him slain, she would never have the chance to pass her knowledge to another deserving soul.
“I’m too old to start again,” she whispered, holding her ground as she watched the people who would cause her death approaching.
Killer
“Is there something you want to tell me, son?” my father asked, crouching beside the bloody squirrel, I was sure I had hidden.
“No, nothing at all,” I said, shifting my gaze.
I felt his scorching glare resting on the side of my head. Lies wouldn’t help me out of this situation, and they wouldn’t make it any easier to accept the fact I had urges—urges that could only be satisfied with blood. He knew the truth too—that much was obvious—but he would never get me to admit it out loud.
One and Done
“Promise me you’ll look after yourself,” he said, hand on my shoulder as his eyes gazed into mine.
I knew what that look meant—he was leaving. He was going to die.
“You don’t have to do this,” I whispered.
He offered me a smile as he pulled his hand away. That was all I got before he dashed from our hiding place into the heart of the battle. I watched on, dumbstruck and in horror.
Though my heart wanted to follow him, my brain knew it would only result in both of our deaths.
Escaped
The guard twirled his keys, whistling a jaunty tune on his way to the dungeons. It was his turn to make the lap, checking on the more dangerous prisoners that were separated from the mainstream ones on the ground level.
A task others found daunting, he found exhilarating.
The thought of danger made him feel alive.
He crept through the darkness of the holding area, vaguely picking up the shapes of the men inside each cell. He reached the last one—and found it empty. With fumbling fingers, he grabbed his radio.
“Sir, he’s escaped.”
Babysitting Duties
“Move away from the door and let me at him,” he snarled, balling his hands into fists. I sighed. A fight—things always seemed to end in a fight around here.
“I will not do that,” I barked. “It’s my job to keep you idiots from tearing each other apart.”
“Uh, you’re just saying that because you know I’d win.”
I hold my hands to my temples. When I agreed to help organize the King’s royal men, I didn’t know that part of my job would include babysitting men years older than me.
Tattoo
“Don’t get a tattoo of his name.”
The warning had come from many people’s mouths in
the short period of time during my sixteenth birthday.
Naturally, I was inclined to ignore them.
Ten years later, I sat at my kitchen table, staring at the bright red mark on my arm with passionate hatred. I frowned at it—
mushing the skin with my fingers—wishing it would
disappear. It was hard enough to live this life, but I would forever carry the reminder that he was no longer alive to share it with me.
Polaroid
I gripped the old photograph tightly in my hands. I didn’t remember taking it, and I didn’t think anyone else had either.
Yet, here it was.
A picture from ten years ago—the day my husband was taken from me. The picture immortalized the image of me collapsed in grief at the news of his death. As far as I knew, the man who told me hadn’t had a camera on him.
Who had taken it, and why had they waited so long to send it to me?
I tossed it down just as I heard footsteps echo down the empty hallway.
It’s Over Now
Roslyn collapsed to her knees beside the gory remains of the person had once been her best friend. Tears soaked her face, her hands hovering helplessly over his bloody shirt—there was nothing more she could do.
She heard footsteps. Looking up, her friend Jace stretched out his hand, helping her to her feet. He wrapped his arms around her trembling form.
“You’re okay now,” he whispered in her ear.
She felt the cold steel of the knife a moment too late, as he thrust it between her shoulder blades.
“It’s over now.”
Torture
Caitlin shivered, folding her arms across her chest. She wandered down the cold alleyway, limping as she tried to make her way to freedom. Water dripped from the entrance—a welcoming sound as she forced her broken body to work.
“Caitlin!” a male voice called after her. It had an eerie sing-song ring to it. She felt the tears bubble in her eyes as she tripped over her feet and stumbled into the wall. The sound of his voice brought the image of a dark room littered with broken bones back to her mind.
One More Murder
I sat in the shadows beyond the entrance of the bar, waiting for anyone to stumble outside.
I could hear the laughter from within—they thought they were safe. The Late Night Killer had been captured—or so they thought—and all their fears were put to rest. I laughed to myself, blowing smoke into the air as I crushed my cigarette beneath my boot.
They were wrong. They weren’t safe, not yet.
There would be one more murder—one more life taken from this town before I ditched my bloody hobby for good.
Demons
I couldn’t move. The demon sat on my chest, draining me of my very life energy. My heart pounded hard. Staring into its black eyes, I couldn’t do a thing but gasp for air, my eyes clamping shut.
When they opened again, the demon was gone.
Night terrors. They were only night terrors.
I wasn’t convinced.
That night, I abandoned the bed as I hid in the closet and waited. At the break of dawn, the ugly monster from my dreams dropped from the ceiling onto my empty bed.
Worse
“What did you do!?” I sobbed, pounding my fist into Damien’s chest—too caught up in my hysterics to realize that so much blood had spilt that his shirt was soaked in it.
“He was one of them; it wasn’t safe to keep him around.”
“We could’ve let him go,” I spat.
“He would’ve come back.”
“Mankind is dying, now you’re killing us off as well?” I demanded, wiping at my face. I took a step backwards. “H-how could this situation get any worse?”
Damien cast a crooked smile toward me.
“Give me a minute, I’m sure I’ll think of a way.”
Run
The lights flickered again in the storm. I held my breath, waiting to see if they would go out permanently. I hadn’t prepared for weather this bad. Without power, I didn’t know what I
would do. All at once, the power shut off, leaving me in silence—before it booted back up as if the break hadn’t even occurred. I squinted at the nearby window, noticing a piece of paper tucked in the crack. I pulled it out.
“Run,” I read out loud, as I heard the floorboards creak behind me.
Makeup
They wondered why I put on makeup multiple times throughout the day. Why I made sure to wear it, even at night, though I had no friends, and no relationships. They assumed me to be self-centered—conceited even. The makeup covered the bags under my eyes; the red scour marks in my cheeks left from crying. Under the makeshift mask was the only time I felt pretty. It gave me the confidence to face the cruelty of the world around me. With my mask, I could pretend to be like them—I coul
d pretend to be human.
Temper
Theo drew his longsword, brandishing it as he faced his enemy—his need to win fueled by the thought of her death. Her lifeless body lay a few feet away. He blinked, struggling to hold in his tears.
With an angry screech, Theo ran forward, thrusting the blade through the air until it came to rest in the man’s neck. He fell into the puddle of his blood—and she stood to her feet.
“What happened?” she asked.
Theo tossed his sword down and rushed to her.
“I lost my temper when I thought he killed you.”
Death
The time had finally come. Through willpower alone, Lana had managed to stave off her own demise, but as she hobbled down the mountainside—bloody, wounded, and starving—she knew she could
do it no longer. She collapsed to her knees, staring into the sunset with tears in her eyes. This wasn’t the way she had imagined her story coming to an end. It wasn’t a brave death, or an honorable one. She had trusted him, and he betrayed her in the worst possible way. Though it costed her dearly, she made sure he paid for the mistake with his life.
