Lucille Morris

Short Stories

The intro to strange

By

She walked, and as she walked she lost. Battle after battle it was an endless torture to each and every ending. Why did she fight? How was it that every single death was caused by her?

The blue sky denied her the right to feel despair. Chin up back straight, yet something weighed her down. A swirl of wonder, memories that could have happened if it weren’t for her, the achievements that were not achieved. It surrounded her seeped into her and then a flash. It blinded her.

‘Ah child, did you think I would forget about you? Or more that you would forget about me?’ She crumpled into a ball, acidic tears streaming down her face burning holes into her throat. Simply a punishment, it took away her ability to speak.

In her blindness she saw a woman standing over a mans body. This is how she always came. The man was, but a frivolous detail to make her seem different, a different type of strong. She wished people would stop, stop under estimating her third cousin. Unfortunately her plan always worked. Always.

Matredeme got up hastily as she was already late. While her loud cousins were mean and annoying they also acted as her alarm. Screaming and shouting at each other at 5:00 AM can come in handy.

She looked in the fridge for the third time. No food had magically appeared, just the same old jar of peanut butter and slightly molding banana. Feeling her stomach grumble more violently each minute she reluctantly grabbed the banana and ran to school.

When she got into the school building she cursed silently. A substitute was writing his name on the white board and she knew what that meant.

“Alrighty then.” The substitute said in a squeaky voice that made her cringe. “When I call your name please stand.” Here we go again, she thought. “Agust.” He said and went through the line of names from Agust to Madeline until he reached her name. She braced her self to be called ” Matter Dem” instead of how it was supposed to be pronounced. The senerios of embarrassment went through her head until they were washed away with a single word. “Maetre Deem” the subsitute pronounced.

She looked up surprised. He smiled knowingly at her and then continued the list of names.

LATER THAT DAY

“Morino” Somebody said. Matredeme looked up to see the subsitute standing over her. “I’m sorry, what?” She asked, confused to see the scrawny man standing on her front steps. “Morino, may I see her?” He asked nodding at the front door. “Oh, you mean my father?” “Yes, is she here?” He said seeming to get more anxious by the second. “Well, yes but…. I ‘m not she wants to see any body right now. Besides, I don’t even know who you are.” He stared at her making her feel very uncomfortable. Finally he said slowly” She will want to see me.” Matredeme squinted at him and then yelled ” Dad! Were you planning on seeing anyone!?” No reply. She sighed and opened the door never taking he eyes off his.

Inside the house was an unkempt house that was surprisingly empty. It was the kind of place where the house was just a structure. It had no meaning except for shelter. The walls were white and plain. The floor was old and scuffed up with shoe marking from frantically running through the house.

In the kitchen a lady sat in a rickety wooden chair in front of a table of the same style. She had thick ginger hair that just went past her shoulder in bouncing waves going in all different directions. She had sparkling green eyes that looked around aimlessly. Pale ruby lips held a smile that was not really a feeling only the way she held up her face.

“Hello.” She said in an emotionless voice. When the subsitute walked in matredeme looked down, her cheeks slightly redding . “Marino.” He said stopping in his tracks. Quietly she said. “Hi Dad.”

Puppeteer

By

I had been walking for days with no rest and whenever I did try to sleep, I would drift off with my eyes staring up at the sky and would blink myself awake without meaning to.  I was starving. The small sliver of cake that had been packed for me was long gone.  I guess nobody thought it it would take more than an afternoon to find the highs, which apparently, was better than this dry, dirty, road.  And, overall, I was frustrated.  Four long exhausting days of walking, running and skipping – if I was in the mood.  And, besides, between creepy visions and old ladies who lived under ground, my life had turned into a train wreck.  What happened to Saturdays where I could just lay around in my pajamas and do nothing?

And what about my family, who had no idea where I was, and was probably worried sick?  I rolled my eyes at the thought of it.  I had to focus on the problem that I was in now. Like the fact that I was in the middle of nowhere, with no food or water, and not a lick of sleep.  After another long hour of doing nothing but walking, I heard a sound in the distance.  Trotting forward, half consciously, I went to discover the source of the noise, because I hadn’t heard anything for quite a while now, except for my own heavy breathing.  Maybe there would be somebody to help me get to the so-called Highs.  I could only hope.

When I finally heard the noise get louder, I knew I was going in the right direction.  Then it stopped.  Out of pure spite, I called out, “Marco!”, and surprisingly enough, I heard a tiny voice squeak, “polo!”.  I walked forward from where the voice had come from.  I came across a small little bird.  I kept walking.  Surely, that couldn’t have been the person making that noise, birds don’t know how to speak, right?  But, I hadn’t gotten a foot when somebody shouted, “Hello, I’m right over here!”.

I turned to see the tiny bird’s mouth moving.  Birds.  Don’t. Talk. I jumped back, surprised.  This wasn’t happening, OK? Even though my sore feet and grumbling stomach definitely felt real.  “Can you talk, young lady?”, it asked.  I had to learn sign languages, just so I could talk my cousin Steven, and I don’t even like him that much.  “Uhhhh…”, I stuttered.  But, before I could say anything else, the bird interrupted, “Oh Great, you can talk.  You know, these roads have been just so lonely and quiet, it was starting to worry me.”.  “Actually”, I interrupted back, “do you know how to get to the umm, Highs”.  The bird’s yellow face darkened, “Oh, you don’t want to go there.”.

“Why not”, I asked.  “It has to be better than this deserted trail.”.  “No, no, no, no, no, no”, the bird said, “It is much worse than this”.  I didn’t get it.  This was where I was told to go.  Why would it be a horrible place.  After all, ever since the end of summer camp, everything had been pretty much horrible.  “That is something for me to know”, he said, “and you, to never find out.”.  I wasn’t liking what this was shaping into.  “Oh, come on. It can’t be that bad”, I reasoned.  The bird sighed, exasperated.

“Fine, but you can’t go alone.  It is easier for them to play with your mind when you are by yourself. No matter how strong or smart, anybody seems, if they go alone into the Highs, they have dug their own grave.  I was traveling in the direction of the Highs anyways.  I’ll come with you.  And, hopefully, we won’t die.  But first, let me get out of this stuffy costume.”.  And with that, the bird dropped dead.

I was less sad than annoyed and disturbed.  My ticket to success was becoming harder to get than I thought it would be.  And now, I had to follow a very confusing map to find this death zone that would more than likely get me killed.  But I wasn’t waiting, so I started leaving, but it wasn’t long before the same voice yelled, “Wait!”, and a small three inch man wearing a maroon business suit, popped out of the bird’s mouth.  “Ah!”, he said, brushing himself off.  “It was starting to get a little stuffy in there.”.  I stared at him.  “What did you do to the bird?”, I asked shakily?

If that little man could kill a bird, I bet he could injure at least my foot.  And even though it didn’t seem very scary, my foot was a very important part of my body in this predicament, and I would need it.  “I asked..”, I said a little louder after he stopped messing with his jacket, “What did you do with the bird?”.  “Huh?”, he asked finally.  “Oh, don’t mind that old thing.  It’s just a prop.”

“What?”, I asked.  “Oh!”, he said, his eyes widening. “You didn’t know.”, then he made a huge smile and started talking in one big, loud and fast, run-on, sentence, starting with: “AhwellyouseeIhaveapowertocontrolobjectsthataren’talivesuchasthispoordeadbirdlikeyoumightfindadeadanimalonthesideofahighwayandthenyoutookafewdayslateranditiscompletelygonewellthat’sprobablybecausemeormyrelativestookitbecausewearepuppeteers.”, I had to stop him at “puppeteers”, because all his words were just piling on to of each other in a big jumbled mess.

“Ok”, I said. “Let me get a few things straight.  First, you are are a real three-inch man. Second, you are a three-inch man who can control animal carcasses. “Quite right”, he answered, seeming quite pleased I understood his babble.  “Well, if you can control them, why do you crawl inside of them?”.  “Child”, he said, “I said I was but a puppeteer.  I have no such magic as a magician. I must puppet them, like you would a hand puppet.”.  “Hmmm”, I said.  “Ok, then.” But really, I was thinking.  Number one, I’m too old for hand puppets and number two, either this man is crazy or I am.  “And speaking of magicians, we’d better get a move-on.  They are quite powerful and do not like to wait, so let’s hurry up.”.  “Hey!”, I yelled, since he was already running up ahead of me. “Why would need to meet magicians?”  “Of course we’re not meeting them!”, he yelled back.  “They are much too important.”  But before I could ask why else they’d be waiting for us, he was already a tiny dot, barely visible next to the setting sun.

 

She Is Here – I Am There

By

I stared at the girl.  She stared back with a maniac smile. I knew what would happen next.  She disappeared and I was stuck in the pitch black forest with the whispering trees.  I knew I was not alone.  They would judge me harshly.  I could not show fear.  I could trust no one.  I had to leave.

I ran as fast as I could to the exit.  The trees and plants seemed to be blocking me at every step.  Vines entangling me and berry bushes ensnaring my clothing.  I couldn’t fall for it, for any of it. When I got to the end of the maze, it was a dead end.  A giant tree blocking the path.  I tried to get out again and again, until I couldn’t take it anymore.  They had tired me out.  I laid down, checking to make sure that nothing was about to pounce.  Then, I closed my eyes.  Without knowing it, the ground sunk me into the earth.

I woke up to someone saying, “Wake Child”.  Pain shot up to my brain. There was a lady standing in front of me in a billowing purple dress.  She looked old and frail, like she could collapse at any second, but she had a deep, booming voice.  “Rise”, she said.  And I did.  Then she walked away.  I scrambled to follow and found myself in a small underground room.

She looked around and then said, “Quick, we don’t have much time”.  Then she handed me a bag.  In it, there was an umbrella, a piece of cake, a toothbrush, and two sets of clothes; one with a map sewn into the pant leg.  “Good Luck”, she said, before stepping into the shadows and dissolving into blue mist.

I bolted upright, shaking.  Bag in one hand.  I was no longer in the comfortable room with the old lady.  I was in the middle of a dirt road. I checked in the bag.  It was all there.  And it looked untouched, except for one of the shirts that had a picture of the old lady on it.  Under it, it said, “Next Stop, The Highs”.