Wednesday, August 15, 2012

A Rather Belated Story

Perhaps this should be called Thusday's Story. :) I'm afraid I didn't post this when I said I would, but I promise I will do better next time! This is just the first part of my short story and I wrote it and 12:57 a.m. so you can't expect it to be very good.
It's not good. Let me just tell you that. But, I have big plans for it, and I hope you enjoy the rest! Let me know if you are reading my posts!

Ira let out a breath.
            She was finished. After all of those months of hard work, she had finally completed her first book. Giddy, she took out her phone and called her Mom. No one answered. Sighing, Ira looked at her watch and stood up. It was time for another boring day at work. She grabbed her coat and headed out of her apartment door. Ira was about to leave the small building that she called home, when Mrs. Bittle, the landlady asked her where she was off to.
            “Work again, I’m afraid.” Ira smiled pleasantly at the rather rotund woman before her.
            “Goodness, you’ll work yourself to death, you will.”
            Ira laughed. “Work at a coffee shop certainly never killed anyone. It’s about the easiest job you can get!” She bid Mrs. Bittle farewell, then, and headed down the street to Cora’s Coffee where she worked. The door ding-a-linged when she walked through. “Hullo Miss Cora!”
            “My, aren’t we chipper today.” Cora was behind the counter and scribbling on a scrap of paper. She eyed Ira curiously. “What’s got you so happy?”
            “Let’s just say that I just finished a project I’ve been working on for what seems like my whole life.” Ira paused. “Do you want to know what it was?”
            “Not particularly.”
            Ira continued anyway. “It’s a story about a man named Herron Dakan. He is desperately in love with the beautiful Lady Bryce who is being held captive by the evil sir Xavier.”
            “How very original. She gestured to the hanging clock with her pencil. “You’re six minutes late. Transfer some of that energy to your work.” 
            “Yes ma’am.”
Ira got to work then, and met each customer with a happy smile. It was a wonderful feeling to be done with something, and be perfectly content with how it had turned out. “Ira!” Cora yelled to her from the back of the store. “I’m going to take my lunch break now. You’ll be here alone, so call me if you need help.”
            “Alright!” Ira yelled back to her from behind the counter. Thirty minutes later, Ira was just finishing her coffee when the door dinged, announcing another customer. “What can I get…” Ira’s voice faded away when she saw her new customer. He dwarfed her petite frame, and was shaking from head to toe. Dried blood ran from his temple to his neck; and in his left hand, he was holding a big, shiny, black gun, pointed straight at Ira’s chest.
            A police car siren sounded then and made Ira jump. “Don’t move!” The man was shaking more now, was holding the gun with both his hands to keep it still. He licked his lips and looked outside. Police cars were lined up outside of Cora’s Coffee, and dozens of policemen were gathered outside. The phone rang, and this time, the man jumped. He shifted his eyes from Ira to the phone. He didn’t answer it. It kept ringing, and the repetitive noise was agitating him. Ira glanced out of the window. She was hidden from view, so how could the police know the man had a hostage? Ira swallowed thickly and hoped that none of the policemen would barge in, thinking that he was alone.
            “You’ve been beaten, Tom!” A voice sounded out from outside of the shop. “Come out with your hands in the air!”
Tom clenched his jaw and looked at Ira. “He’s right, you know.” He nearly screamed these words. “But I won’t be caught alive.”
Tears began to flow down Ira’s cheeks, and she closed her eyes, not wanting to see a man kill himself. “Two shots left.” She heard him say. The gun fired then, and Ira felt a something pierce her chest. She clutched her chest and then took her hand away.
Blood. He had shot her. Ira slumped to the floor and heard another shot. So he had decided to kill himself and her as well. Ira didn’t feel pain, just warmth, and the irresistible desire to go to sleep. She closed her eyes, and allowed herself to go.

            Ira’s eyes shot open and she gasped. Had it been a dream? No. Certainly not. The terror and blood had been far too real. She felt someone put their hand underneath her neck and lift her head up. Then Ira found herself looking at a very familiar face.
            “It’s alright. You’re safe now.” Ira was in the arms of a smiling Herron Dakan.

<3 Clara


  1. SHE'S WAKING UP IN A COMA IN HER STORY!??!?!?!?!?!?!?

    tell more puhlease :)

  2. When may we expect the next part! Can't wait to read it!

  3. Ooh, now I'm WAY into after only one part...CANNOT WAIT TO READ MORE!!