💘 Romance

It was not meant to be but Amy did make a lasting impression on him ... good story

Katrina read the letter again, and then looked over to box 1024. Why was her mother doing this to her? She peered up at the tellers as they busily punched numbers into their computers. With the letter still clutched in her hand, she pushed her red mass of curls from her eyes and reluctantly walked to them. “Is there a Mr. Kane who works here,” she asked meekly.

The teller looked at her oddly but smiled. “Yes, he’s in our upstairs office. Would you like me to call him for you?”

Katrina shrugged, hating the thought of inconveniencing anyone.

“Your name?” The young woman asked, as she dialed.

“Katrina Demille.”

The woman repeated her name into the receiver. She smiled, hung up the phone, and turned to Katrina. “He said he’d be right down.”

Katrina nodded and stood feeling uneasy as she waited.

Soon a tall, thin man walked up to the counter. The teller pointed him toward Katrina. He adjusted his glasses and smiled shyly. “I’m Darin Kane. I’ve been waiting for you.”

He was soft spoken and handsome with bashful blue eyes and an awkwardness that Katrina found appealing. Katrina felt her back tingle at his comment. “Really?”

The teller smiled to herself at the exchange and walked back to her chair.

“Yes,” Darin continued. “I’ve known your mother for years. I helped her with some investments. I’m so sorry to hear about her and your father.”

Katrina smiled and nodded. She couldn’t help notice the curve of his jaw and the shape of his nose.

He stood and then looked down at the awkward silence. He scratched his neck and motioned toward the hallway. He touched her arm, while leading her toward the stairs. “She gave me an envelope and asked that I keep it until you came. I wouldn’t normally do this, but she was a nice lady. It’s in my office. She spoke about you often. Why haven’t you been in before?” he asked.

She shrugged, but now Katrina wondered that herself. She remembered her mother talking about the nice man at the bank, but Katrina ignored her mother’s persistence at finding her a mate. She had become accepting of her lot in life and didn’t want anyone feeling sorry for her, especially her mother.

Katrina followed him up the stairs and into a room piled high with books and papers. Large windows framed the snow flurries outside, making the inside seem especially warm and secure.

He smiled. “Here’s the envelope,” he said, handing it to her.

She took it from him, noticing the warmth of his palm. Katrina stood for a moment with the envelope in her hand. She wanted to stay, but there was no reason, and in time she would say something silly or odd, so she shifted her books and began to leave. “Thank you for your help.”

“No problem,” Darin said, quietly.

Katrina paused at the door and gave him another smile. Inside she was screaming at herself for not being more smooth, more alluring, less her. He looked ready to speak, but just nodded, so she left. When she reached the vault, she located the other box and began to open it.

“You forgot your heart,” Darin called to her from behind.

Startled, Katrina turned back. “What did you say?” she asked.

He held up the locket. “Your heart necklace? You left it on my desk.”

“Oh,” Katrina answered, walking toward him. “I’m sorry you had to come all the way back down here.”

Darin shuffled shyly, as she retrieved her heart from his hand. “I’m not,” he answered quietly. He looked at her and smiled at the fact that her coat collar was turned the wrong way and a strand of red curl was looped through her glasses. “Do you have plans for dinner?” he asked, clumsily.

“It’s ten in the morning,” she answered. Then she realized what he meant and her face went red.

He laughed.

Katrina cringed. “I’m sorry,” she said, horrified. “I thought…” she didn’t even know how to answer.

The tellers all looked over, which made Katrina squirm even worse.

“Can I take you to dinner tonight, at say seven?” Darin asked. He gave a smile as punctuation.

Katrina looked up at him surprised. She wanted to blurt out- Yes! But instead she restrained herself to a simple- “That would be nice.”

Darin grinned in relief. “Great, I’ll call you.” He then turned and began to walk out of the vault.

“Wait!” Katrina called. “Don’t you need my phone number?”

Darin stopped and smiled, “No. Actually, your mother gave me your phone number in case you didn’t come for the envelope. She wanted to make sure I could find you.”

Katrina smiled; knowing Darin had no idea the volumes he spoke with just a few words. She watched him walk away, then turned back to the box, feeling giddy as she opened it. Inside was the other half of the broken locket. It held a picture of Grace- her beautiful smiling face beaming up at her daughter. “You sneaky old woman,” Katrina said, as she admired her mother. She snapped the other half of the locket- the half that held the picture of her father- together with it, realizing then that it was never really broken. “It just needed some help to find it’s other half,” she whispered, holding it tightly. “Maybe for some, destiny just needs a little push.”  The End  ~ 💘

Beautiful story of a Mom still guiding her child from the great beyond.

Are you guys in?” The blonde boy looked at his two friends, hoping to see a confirmation from them that they accepted his plan. The two boys nodded back and got into the black Chevy Cruze for the short drive to Becky Summers’ house. The coordinator of the plan was Corey Williams, the star quarterback of the Tyler High football team and Becky’s boyfriend. It was Becky’s birthday and Corey’s plan was for a simple birthday wish to be passed on from the three boys.

“Let’s get out here and go to her backyard. Remember to bring your ski masks.”

Brett Jenkins and Greg Ward laughed as they go out of the car. The three boys planned to “moon” Becky from her backyard and to sing happy birthday to her when Corey would give the signal. What 16 year old girl wouldn’t like that as a birthday gift?

The boys got into position in the backyard, put on their ski masks and waited for their signal. “OK guys, drop them.”

The boys chuckled as they dropped their pants. Then Corey called out to the house. “Becky, Becky. Happy birthday girl.”

The backyard flood light came on as Becky Summers opened her sliding glass door to the rear patio. The light caught the bare behinds of the three boys perfectly, just as Corey planned. The girl gave out as brief “oh my god” as she saw what was waiting for her in the backyard.

“THIS IS FOR YOU BITCH!!!”

Corey’s face got intense as he screamed out the words. What immediately followed was a long litany of cursing and swearing directed at the young girl. “YOU….”

Confused, Greg Ward tried to understand what was taking place. The planned “fun” had turned into a vicious verbal attack on Becky from Corey Williams. Why was this going on?

Pulling up his pants and turning around, Greg could see streams of tears on Becky’s cheeks as she covered her mouth. Her cry of “why are you doing this Corey?” was largely drowned out by Corey’s continuous flow of vulgar references to the girl. Finally, after taking all she could, Becky Summers raced back inside her house and turned the spot light off. Corey gave one last gesture and called out “let’s go guys” as he trotted back to the car.

“What the hell just happened?” thought Ward as the car pulled away from the Summers home….

“Greg, can we talk?” Brett Jenkins, the third “mooner” sat down next to Ward in the school study hall. “Sue Tompkins says that Becky isn’t at school today because she is real upset. Corey’s rampage last night is being talked about by all the girls.”

Ward looked around to see how private their setting was before responding. “Are we being mentioned at all?”

Jenkins shook his head no. “But Greg, it’s probably just a matter of time before our names get tied to this. We are Corey’s closest friends.”

“Damn” thought Ward. What a mess.

“What are we going to do?”

Yes, thought Ward, what are we going to do?

Greg Ward thought about the situation all day and finally reached a conclusion that he needed to do something uncomfortable. He borrowed his Dad’s Civic and drove to the Summers house to see Becky. Embarrassed, he rang the doorbell and was anticipating having to ask Mrs. Summers to see Becky when to his surprise the young girl opened the door herself.

“Oh, um, um, hi Becky….”

“Hi. Why are you here?” The girl’s face was red, probably the result of recent crying.

“I, um, I, um, I kind of wanted to tell you how sorry I am about what happened last night with Corey in your backyard.”

“Who told you about that?”

“Um, Sue. Sue Tompkins.”

“All I told Sue was that Corey came by last night and shouted at me. I didn’t mention that it was in my backyard and I didn’t mention that Corey was there with some other boys. So how do you know so much?”

Crap. She is figuring this all out.

“Greg, you were there, weren’t you?”

“No, no. I, I wasn’t……”

“Greg, don’t you lie to me. Brett Jenkins and you were with Corey last night.”   Stay tuned.  ~ 💘 

Very likely!!

I liked this part of the story much better

Yeah!  I love that happy ending.

This one is really dark so far with nothing to like about Merrell

When I felt I could take no more of the steaming inferno and was about to freak out, I discovered exactly what I had set out to find. I noticed the corner of a couple photographs sticking out from under the rotten rodents’ tomb and quickly pulled at them like a magician pulling a tablecloth, trying not to spill or disturb what lay on top. What appeared to me on the photos sent my heart plummeting into my stomach. The first picture was a cut-out yearbook photo of a schoolgirl who went missing about a month earlier, the other, a Polaroid, showed the same girl, only in this depiction, she was hogtied and lying on a dirt floor in some manner of dungeon. Despite the atrocious content of the Polaroid, I studied it feverishly, knowing I had seen the dungeon before, but the memory was just out of reach.

I shoved the awful pictures in my pocket and racked my brain to remember where I had seen that place before. Then it hit me. Merrell’s cane hit me upside the head and I heard him yell in his haggard voice, “Get outa here ya hooligan!”

“It’s me, Wyatt, you crazy old bastard.”

“Wyatt, whacha doin’ in here at this hour snoopin’ in my locker fer?”

My head throbbed and I could feel a bump rising where the heavy wooden cane struck me. I had to think of a good lie fast to tell the disfigured monster standing before me. “Well, ya see, I left my cellphone in here earlier today, and, well, I came in to find it. Damn, Merrell, you railed me a good one, man. I think I have a concussion.”

“I ain’t got no phone in my locker and I don’t like smart-ass kids rootin’ around in my stuff. Now you get da hell outa there fer I wallop ya again!”

The old man was obviously irate and there was no telling how he would react if he found out I had those photos. The best move I could make was to play it nice and cool in order to get out of that inferno and go directly to the police with the evidence.

“Aw, come on Merrell, you know I wouldn’t take any of your junk. I guess my phone is in the mop closet, I’ll just go check.” I picked up his cane and handed it to him while attempting to flash a friendly smile, which probably looked more like a half-assed grimace due to my skyrocketing anxiety.

“No way you little punk!” Merrell shoved me with unexpected strength and hobbled to his locker. “I wanna know what yer up to boy, and if I find anything missin’ in here yer gunna wish you was never born!”

I could have run away at that moment, but just stood watching, frozen with curiosity, as the crippled geezer mumbled incoherently while digging though the locker mess now spilled all over the floor. I felt both fear and pity toward the insane cripple, but my rage for Merrell dominated my thoughts.

Merrell grunted and groaned like a wounded animal, turned and looked at me with a ferocious stare and in a demonic tone said, “I know what you took and I know what yer thinkin’, but you ain’t gettin’ outa here till ya give me back them pictures!”

“Look dude, I know you have something to do with that missing girl and I plan on going to the police. You may as well give up Merrell; you can’t stop me!” I was amazed at my courage in the face of danger and my body trembled as I spoke, making my voice sound like I was under water.

“I don’t know nothin’ bout no missin’ girl. I’ll tell them cops those are yer pictures, not mine!”

“Bullshit Merrell, I know you got that girl hidden somewhere. You kill her yet, or you just going to let her rot? What kind of sick asshole are you?”

“You don’t wanna piss me off, boy!” Merrell said with the demonic roar that this time sent a chill down my spine.

My adrenaline surged; it was time for flight or fight. I was sure the old cripple couldn’t hurt me in a straight fight but I feared him nonetheless. He wasn’t human anymore. His physical and emotional state had driven him mad and I was standing in the way to the fulfillment of his muddied desires. I gathered all my courage and strength, let out a yell, and kicked the old man’s good leg out from under him, dropping him to the floor, causing him to let out an awful cry. I ran out and slammed the door, locking it from the outside. The beast was caged and as I made my escape, I heard the old man as he continued his shrill screaming and felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand in attention.

I ran out of the school and started for home when I again noticed Merrell’s car in the rear corner of the lot, backed up to the old bomb shelter that was used for extra storage. Then it dawned on me, the dungeon in the terrible photograph was the shelter, and the missing girl may still be in there. I thought about running home and calling the police, but decided to check out the shelter myself, as my curiosity guided me once again.

I dashed across the blacktop, avoiding icy patches, and stopped at Merrell’s rusty old Buick. I gazed in the car and noticed a shovel and a flashlight laying in the backseat. Knowing the old bomb shelter had no light; I grabbed the flashlight, not noticing the fresh blood covering the handle until my palm was red. I took a deep breath, wiped my hands on my pants, and rushed to open the heavy wooden door leading underground. My nerves were shot and my heart pounded until it burned. Nothing but pure adrenaline fueled me to continue my mission. I slowly made my way down the shaky stairs, clearing cobwebs with the flashlight, and discovered a small hole dug in the dirt floor in the back of the filthy room. The dungeon was overcome with the familiar stench of death that was much more intense than the diseased mice, so I held my breath as I shined the light into the freshly dug hole.

The disgusting sight at the bottom of the hole combined with the ghastly odor sent my stomach into a spin, dropping me to my knees to vomit and heave until acid burned my throat. After sitting on my hands and knees for what seemed to be an eternity, I gathered the strength I had left, and pulled myself to my feet, covering my nose and mouth with a dirty rag that smelled of lemon cleaner I found on the floor next to me. I sobbed as if I were a terrified child searching for a way out of a horrendous nightmare. The flashlight shone upon the wall just above the open grave, illuminating small handprints smeared like finger-paints through a splatter of blood red. I began to panic and bolted out of that dreadful tomb, bounding up the stairs, and running home faster than I had ever run in my life, gasping for air from the frigid winter night.

Upon returning home, after my four block mad dash, I was blinded by red and blue flashing lights. A squadron of police vehicles lined the driveway and street in front of my house. Completely out of breath, I hunched over holding my cramped chest, and saw my parents standing outside on the porch. My father, who stared at me with disdain, was holding my mother who appeared to sobbing, and the sight of it sent me into a head-trip; the likes of which I had never experienced before. The entire nightmarish experience began to flood my every thought. Merrell the horrible sideshow attraction and disgusting manic, the dead girl, the smell of death, and the blood, the blood that now covered my hands and smeared my clothing.

“Get your hands up over your head right now asshole!” I heard someone yell, but didn’t respond. The words were lost in my head as soon as they cleared my eardrums. All I could hear was that cripple’s voice, that irritating shrill, and the screams of terror, the girl’s pleading, the begging, the crying, it all came back to me. And with one big gasp, I drew in all the air I could, stood erect, eyes watering, body trembling, and ears deafened with the petrified screams of a tortured child, and I watched as the blue figures descended upon me and engulfed me in a flurry of swinging batons. I welcomed the pain, as focusing upon it relieved my mind of the appalling visions of my mortal sin, and the sounds disappeared too, the girl’s screaming, shut off instantly, with a skull splitting bluster.  The End  ~  💘

  

What a twist, eh?