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Category: Short Stories

Creative short stories that hopefully reach inside you and make you uncomfortably aware that you have a heart.

Sunrise Phoenix

Published April 10, 2015 by Jourdan

They say that phoenixes are born from the ashes of their own death. That they start anew from the remains of what once was, are made stronger by the leftovers of the past. I wonder how they know when the time is right. Is it when they become too beaten down by life, burdened by the enormous weight of their current existence? Or is it because they have found the perfect moment, when the world is silent yet pulsing with energy, and they realize that forgiveness and new life can begin at this exact breathtaking moment.

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The Last Goodbye

Published January 15, 2014 by Jourdan

Emily sat on the edge of the chair, picking at the frayed seams in the leather.  She was thinking about the lake house, with its mint green walls, and the way the sun rippled across the surface of the water like tiny pools of glitter. She was remembering the sticky, sweet way the tar in the dock smelled in the midday heat and the delicious feel of the crisp breeze swirling across her sweat pricked skin. She was remembering Alex and the way he would wait perched on a sun warmed rock with his feet rustling the pebbles under the water, waiting for her to come running out the door. She was thinking of racing him to the end of the dock, the splash as he hit the surface and the feel of her toes curled against the edge of the warm, wet wood as she laughed at him for braving the cold water first.

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Our Hearts Beat Like Thunder

Published October 18, 2013 by Jourdan

No one is here but me and the summer thunderstorm raging outside my bedroom window. I touch the silver cross resting against my chest. When I close my eyes I can feel our hearts beat. I recall your laugh, warm like the summer wind, loud as the waves of the ocean. I remember burying my face in your shirt and crying because I was going to turn ten and I was never going to be in the single digits again. I remember when I brought my finger to you, swollen and purple, because I had wrapped the tag of my stuffed orca whale too tight around it. I remember screaming when you told me we had to cut it off. I thought you meant my finger. I remember you pinning me to the floor because you couldn’t reason with me and you needed to cut that tag off. Daughters never thank their mothers as much as they should.

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Jockeys

Published September 30, 2013 by Jourdan

Today is race day. The air is tense. You warm up your steed under the summer sun. Crisp, tight, controlled circles around the practice track.…

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A Sailor Went to Sea

Published April 26, 2013 by Jourdan

I’m sitting in a bar filled with an assortment of misfits. I am alone. I’m here because I have nowhere else to be. By that I mean I have nowhere else I want to be. When I am in this bar I don’t have to think about who I am or even who I want to be. There are so many different people that come to a bar. And by that I mean there are so many stories floating around in this bar.

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