Musical Romance (Short Story)

by tiffanyMy Author's Portfolio, my creative self, short stories, Short Stories Portfolio, Stand Alone Short StoriesPosted on No Comments
Musical Romance short story

Your best friend, Beth, invites you to an open mic night at a local coffeehouse. It the first time Beth will sing one of her original songs in front of people, besides you and her cat, Meowers.

It thrills you to support your friend.

After you finish your shift at the call center for a tech company, you rush home to get ready. Your clothes are changed and you redo your hair. This is in record time and you meet Beth at the cozy coffeehouse.

At The Coffee House

You can smell the beans roasting and the coffee brewing from outside the door. As you enter the coffeehouse, you look around the warmly decorated room. It has two large couches facing a makeshift stage area and wood tables that are only large enough to seat four people each. 

Beth finds you and greets you with a great enormous hug, the way she does when she is nervous. As she is still squeezing you Beth stated, “You made it.” When the hug is released she tells you, “The first person is about to start. I’m fifth in line.” She straightens her red and brown floral dress that flows over her slender body.

“Of course, I made it. I wouldn’t miss this.” You look at your friend and ask, “How are you doing? Nervous?”

Beth tried to smile. “Nah, no, no. I’m fine.”

You look blankly at her and her face drops, fully revealing her nerves. “Yes, I am. I shouldn’t be, the crowd isn’t that big, but it’s my song. What if they hate it? I could mess up. What if I can’t really sing?”

“Don’t be silly. You’ll do great. Meowers and I love the song. Plus you’ve sung in front of bigger crowds than this.”

Confused, Beth asked, “When?”

“Our middle school recitals and karaoke.”

Beth shakes her head as she states, “Those don’t count. Karaoke isn’t performing and middle school ended like half a lifetime ago.”

“Still, you’ll do great.”

The Open Mic Starts

Just then the first performer takes the stage and taps on the mic. It is a sizeable round man with little hair on the top of his head, but plenty of white hair coming from his chin. He sings an old blues song as he strums on a guitar. This musician is talented and the crowd applauds him when he finishes. The next performer is a woman with pigtails and a banjo. She can’t seem to play and sing together, but struggles through the full song, anyway. The following two performers get progressively worse and the audience hardly even claps for the last man, who leaves almost in tears. His nerves won.

Beth’s Turn

It is Beth’s turn. She is nervous and starts by fumbling the first notes on her simple acoustic guitar.

You mouth, “Breathe,” to her. She closes her eyes for a moment and takes a deep breath. She starts again and plays her song perfectly. It is beautiful. The crowd cheers for her at the end. They are very thankful that she was a wonderful singer and the song was beautiful.

Beth makes her way back to the table where you are sitting with a giant smile on her face.

As she sits, the next act gets on stage. It is a male musician who has perfectly curly brown hair and sits on the stool, but keeps one leg on the ground. He smiles a nervous yet cute smile as he places his guitar on his lap. Once he clears his throat he says, “This is my first time here too, and I also have an original song.”

Another New Musician Sings

He sings and your eyes meet his sparkling hazel eyes. You hold eye contact with him and smile. It feels as though the room melts away and he is singing only to you. Towards the end of his song, he looks down to make sure he is playing the right notes, but is grinning widely.

At the end of the song he thanks the audience, but is looking at you when he does so. The crowd applauds him as he leaves the little platform that makes up the stage.

He walks directly to you. “Hi, I’m Matt.” He says with his hand out.

You shake his hand as you tell him, “Hi Matt, I’m Lucy. You were great.”

“Thanks. I don’t mean to be too forward, but can I join you two lovely ladies?”

Before you can answer, Beth does. “Of course, we would love that.”

The conversation quickly dies down as the last performer takes the stage. She resembles a jazz singer with her hair pinned in curls and a black fit and flare dress on. She sings a slow and soft song. It is a very loving, sweet jazz song. After she finishes, the audience claps, but starts to leave.

Matt, Beth, and you continue to talk. After half an hour Matt buys both of you cups of tea and you help him carry them over to the table.

You do not realize the time passing. As the coffee house closes, Matt asks for your number. Smiling, you give him your phone number and he sends you a quick smiley text, so you have his.

When The Coffeehouse Closes

This is the start of something new, but after a long day at work you are ready for bed.

You say goodnight to Matt at the coffee house and walk with Beth to your car, which is outside of Beth’s apartment. You say goodnight to your best friend and get in your car.

When you get home, you see that you have an unread text message from Matt. It says, “I’m glad I went to the open mic night, tonight.”

You smile as you respond with, “Me too. Goodnight.”

As you get ready for bed, another text from Matt pops up on your phone. “Goodnight.”

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Black clad Assassin

by tiffanyshort stories, Stand Alone Short StoriesPosted on One Comment
Black Clad Assassin

The perimeter of his little camp must have been weaker than he thought because he was awakened by the nose of a black horse with black eyes and black reigns. Everything about this horse was black including the rider who sat on the horse’s black saddle. The only thing that was not black was the whites of the rider’s eyes.

The rider stared at William, the now frightened man, as the black leather clad rider dismounted the black horse. William could see the crest of the deadly assassin clan pressed into the leather right where the heart should be. No one knew if this clan had hearts or if they were monsters sent to kill the poor mortals that got in their way. Not much was known about them. Only two things were known for sure, their crest had five stars and a bird, and a single assassin could kill entire villages.

Slowly the rider, who wore 2 swords, walked over to William. Only when the black clad rider was looming over William were words spoken. “Do you have food?” The words came from behind the black clothe mask, however they were surprisingly feminine. William could tell that the low register of the voice was forced and it was softer than he was expecting.

“You’re a lady.” A shocked William stated.

Before William could answer the question or even think another thought there was a dagger pressed against his throat. “I will slice your throat either way.”

William, a simple monk who was only out of the monastery due to a change in assignment was silent until the assassin asked the question again, “Do you have food or will I have to slit your throat?”

“I have food. I have bread.” A shaky voiced William answered. He stayed still until the dagger was lowered.

He went into his satchel and took out his 2 loaves of bread and offered them to the one clad in black. She took one ripped it in half and gave the other half back to William.

When William gave a confused look at the woman who was supposed to be a ruthless killed she answered the look by sitting down and stating, “I will not repay generosity with greed. You are not my target, so you will be safe.”

Neither one of them spoke as they ate the bread.

William simply sat cross-legged as he ate and watched the assassin. She had pulled her mask up to eat and William saw that her skin was only black because of the black grease makeup she wore where her mask did not cover. She was actually quite pale, especially compared to his heavily tanned skin. He also watched how she sat. The assassin sat with only one leg on the ground. The other was bent with the foot on the grounds as if she needed to be ready to spring to her feet at any moment. She also kept her dagger in one hand and the bread in the other.

They both sat and watched the other eat uncertain what would happen if either one of them spoke.

When the assassin was done with her bread, she stood and stated, “Tell no one of this meeting or you will become a target for my clan.”

She mounted her horse before William could confirm that he would not tell a soul. She did not need to wait for the confirmation though, she knew her clan’s reputation and knew he would heed her command.

Want More?

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Guarding The Ladder.

by tiffanyMy Author's Portfolio, Real Life, short stories, Short Stories Portfolio, Stand Alone Short StoriesPosted on One Comment
guarding the ladder short story

Do not let the picture above fool you. Otis is not an ordinary cat.  He is a fierce feline focused on protecting the one who feeds him. He is like a soldier and takes on this role every night. What is this hero of a cat protecting me from? Well, I am not sure, but it may be from falling off my bed, or it could be the window. Whatever the danger, he protects me from it every single night.

Let me explain how he protects me. His heroism entails walking the perimeter of my bed, making sure that the only exit from the loft bed is still the ladder. He then makes sure that I am safe by sniffing my face. Finally, he is ready to buckle down in his post. He stretches out as he lies down right at the opening for the ladder. With courage, he will stay at his post, keeping watch unless he falls asleep until my morning alarm goes off. Most days he will even stay pass the alarm going off and it will take me nearly throwing him down the ladder for him to move.

Now, since I am the one being protected, I cannot be the first one out of the bed. He cannot and will not simply move aside. This cat needs to clear the area, or at least the ladder. He makes his safety check by climbing down part way, stopping at the window for a moment, and going out the window onto the roof.

His reward for protecting me all night is his breakfast that I pour him, while I am still asleep.

At least, that is what I am telling myself. In all honesty, he most likely is just being a butt and blocking the ladder, because he knows it annoys me. I will keep trying to convince myself that he is protecting me because murdering a cat is frowned upon.

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Otis, The Hunter.

by tiffanyReal Life, short stories, Stand Alone Short StoriesPosted on One Comment

 

 

 Otis, The Hunter.
roof otis 004

Otis, the fat grayish-tan feline with thick black stripes, almost sat down next to me as if he wanted to be near the comfort of a human. Before his bum touched the blanket I had brought out onto the roof, Otis heard a noise. It was the famed climbing of a squirrel, that needed to be hunted. There was no time to cuddle the squirrel invader had to be stopped. Only the heroic house cat could hunt and stop this beast, so Otis crouched down and very slightly crept to the skylight, that since it was raised gave a littler cover for his sneak attack. Then since time was of the essence he bolted towards the wild beast, which actually gave the squirrel enough time to see the house cat and climb back to the top of the tree yelling at the cat as it climbed. Otis, who thought himself brave and a great hunter,continued to stalked the frightened and angry sounding squirrel to another higher tree.

Unfortunately the hunt had to end since Otis is a fat house cat who could not even get onto one of the trees. After a minute or less Otis came back to the blanket wanting the petting he ran away from a few moments earlier.

Not An Ordinary Walk

by tiffanymy creative self, short stories, Stand Alone Short StoriesPosted on No Comments

encouragement

I walk down a hard grey path that has tiny bumps that would be unpleasant to walk barefooted on. There are dwelling places on both sides of this path with some green ground coverings. I walk down until I see an artificial looking hill that uses a combination of flat surfaces and tiny smooth cliffs. I walk down this built hill and find that the land below it is different.

This land has no path and is not as solid as the path or artificial hill.  Tiny grains of tan, white, and brown move under my feet as I walk. I am moving the land under me as I hear a rhythm of strange movement. There is a massive body of liquid creating this musical noise. The liquid mass stretches far beyond my sight and moves up as it sounds its rumbling music, but then it is pulled away. I pause and the clear liquid rushes over my feet. It is cold and I do not dare go in any further. Although what rushed over my feet was clear as the volume grows it becomes hard to see the ground or what is in the liquid.

I stay on the moving land before going back to the artificial hill and down the grey path.

My Monday Night (Sort Of A Short Story)

by tiffanyBrazilian Jiu-jitsu writings, short stories, Stand Alone Short StoriesPosted on No Comments

writing

Hello and welcome to my Monday night. It was amazing and now I feel slightly broken. I am energized even though I am exhausted. I want to sleep now that my night is over, but too excited to even think of fully ending the night. You see I was wonderfully hurt and carefully punched. I was stressed, pushed, and rolled. I learned what hurts and how to hurt, but never trying to hurt the other.

Hello and welcome to my Monday night. I got to class early and started to prepare. I did not have a pen and there was no paper. I did not sit at a desk and no books would be found. I got to class early and changed into my warrior’s clothing. I put on the pants that match the top. I tied my belt as tight as it could go and I prepared for class.

Hello and welcome to my Monday night. I ran among men and pushed myself to do what they do. I pushed myself hard as deep voices counted the numbers of the challenge. I struggled to prove myself to myself as the advanced classmates pushed on  stronger. Still I pushed on alongside them.

Hello and welcome to my Monday night. It’s a night where I introduce myself to different men, well some are boys. I introduce myself to them all the same. I give them a fist bump before the fun starts. I push when they pull or pull when they push. If I stop to think they either help and tell me what to do or the show me how stopping is the enemy. I do not know most of these partners, but still we roll and tug at each other struggling to win the round. The first round could be easy with only clothes touching clothes. The first round could be a small lesson with my partner telling me how to win. Or the first round could be personal and trusting with a face full of your partner’s sweaty  torso. Any way the first rounds start they start, I learn, they end.

Hello and welcome to my Monday night. Join me on this adventure of life and lessons. All the pain and sweat is worth it.

My Bad Morning (a Short Story)

by tiffanymy creative self, Real Life, short stories, Short Stories Portfolio, Stand Alone Short StoriesPosted on One Comment
My Bad Morning short story

Based on a true story.

I woke up today, not wanting to get out of bed. The reason was nothing big. I just wanted the weekend to come a day early.

My adult self woke up, and I got out of bed. I got ready and took part in my work’s fancy Friday. When you work in a company of hackers, who also have nerd tendencies, casual dress is more common than not. Most days people dress in jeans and t-shirts, but not on Friday. Friday people dress up. There is one person who appreciates fancy Fridays the most and who I believe started the tradition. It was this person’s birthday, so took part in what she enjoyed. I found my dress pants and my favorite button-up shirt. I put on my makeup and did my hair. Then I put my heels on and went out the door.

I got a latte from my favorite cafe. My day had a later than normal start, but it was going fine. It wasn’t until I got on the highway that everything stopped being fine. A loud noise erupted as if my car was driving on something. Maybe there was something stuck under my car. I got off the highway, and the sound changed a bit to more of a thud-thud sound, as if my tire was flat. It was strange since when I was on the highway it was just loud. I pulled into a grocery store’s parking lot and got out of my car. Something blew my tire with holes in all of it.

The Start Of The Tire Change

It was still okay. I was going to change a tire. How hard could it be? I had it all under control. I started by taking the spare tire out. This should be the easiest part, right? I just needed to undo the bolt and slide it out from under my car. It sounds simple, but when you are in fancy Friday attire you get determined to stay clean, and need to pull something out from under your car, things get difficult.

On top of staying clean, I did not want to get my clothes wet. It had rained the night before, and as soon as I tried to get the spare tire out, it started sprinkling. I ended up in yoga positions and weird poses just to figure out what I could do to get the tire out from under my car. After a fight and a struggle, I freed the dirty rescue tire from its cage.

Now, it was time to get the jack in place. Again, this should be easy, right? Don’t you just put it under your car and crank it up? Apparently, the answer to both those questions was ‘no.’ After the wheel did not move, but the car frame moved, I looked at my manual. It was inside in my glove compartment.

Once The Jack Was On

I went to the front of my car and saw my delicious latte sitting abandoned. I thought it best to show it some love by taking a sip. It thought it best to spill all over my car. Thankfully I did not get burned, because it was lukewarm by now. Yes, I got to enjoy one, maybe two sips of hot coffee before my tire blew and now the fight over the spare tire caused my coffee to be lukewarm.

I sighed a heavy sigh and flipped through the manual to figure out what to do with the jack. It had now started to full-out rain. Once I thought I had everything in control, people asked me if I needed help. My Pride and my confident wouldn’t let them help. I would finish this task. I know I am a woman who is looking fancy, but I can do it. Everyone should be able to change a tire.

I got the jack in place and was ready to remove the tire. Now, I just needed to get the nuts off. In the movies, they make it seem pretty easy. Plus, this is harder than it should have been already, so now the easy part should happen. I am almost done. I just need to get the tire off.

Finally Changing the Tire

Well, after a few minutes of trying to getting them off with increasing force a nice older man came over to should be a trick. He got on the wrench thing and jumped. Yes, he stood, full weight on the thing, and jumped. Awesome I know how to do it now. I thanked him, thinking that was all I needed. I just needed a tip from a stranger. He accepted the gratitude and went on his way.

In my heels, I hopped with both feet on the wrench thing. Nothing happened. I had a thought of, “Hey, I’m light.” My next thought was, “Oh my goodness, I am so weak I can’t even get this nut to loosen.” After a minute of hopping on the wrench thing, another man came and helped me. He told me to lower the jack and loosened the nuts for me.

After I finished taking the nuts off the wheel was easy to get off. My little detour was close to completion. I just needed to get the spare tire on and then drive less than a mile to the tire store. By now, though, I knew that stupid tire would not be easy. I picked it up and waited until finding the issue. The struggle was aligning the holes with the bolts. This task felt like I was trying to line up an ancient key with its keyhole. It took longer than it should have. Of course, the entire process took longer than it should have. Finally, after one more person asked to help me, which I refused on the fact that it was only the spare tire now, I could get it on.

The Ending Of The Story

I got up with my outfit still clean and one more friendly person stopped to help. It was amazing to me how many people wanted to help me. I told the guy I replaced the tire already, but I figured it wouldn’t hurt for him to make sure they were tight enough. He did and could tighten them a bit more.

I was now off to the tire store, where I was told that I need four new tires. While they were pricing the tires, I cleaned my hands and arms, which were the only things to get dirty. It was then when I decided I never wanted to change a tire again, so got all four new tires, hoping it would at least postpone the tire-changing nightmare.

It was an hour’s wait before I could go to work. I got to work. After an hour, I made myself peanut butter on toast. I was still proud of myself that I did not get any dirt on my clothes. I tell you this because after I finished with my snack, I looked down and saw that some peanut butter had dropped on my shirt along with my pants. The only thing I could do was laugh. I can change a tire while staying clean, but I can not eat and stay clean.

I hope you enjoyed reading about my morning.

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If you would like to read more short stories please check out my Portfolio or perhaps you would enjoy watching readings of my work on YouTube. Also, I post snippets of my short stories and other writings on my Instagram account and Facebook page.

To The Beach

by tiffanymy creative self, short stories, Stand Alone Short StoriesPosted on No Comments

writing

I took a walk today to give myself time to think. I walked down to  the beach, thinking inspiration will find me with my feet in the sand. Yet, even before I stood on the shore I was reminded of my mind and a muse came whispering in my ear. He said, “feel your feet on the rough ground below. The asphalt hurts the soles of your feet, right?” Yes, the road below me was rough and hard to walk on without any shoes being worn. Still, I walked on knowing that the rough road would make the soft sand feel that much better.

I got to the stairs that led to my destination of cooling sand on this wonderfully peaceful evening to find that the night had long-held claim over the steps. The darkness of this alley way was caused by the two homes that blocked any moonlight or street light from entering. Still I felt the each step on my way down knowing that once I turned the corner there would light once more.

Now, at the bottom with my feet in the sand and my eyes taking in the romantic moonlight, the ocean breeze blew cold. For a moment I thought it was too cold, but when my ears opened they heard the breeze creating a melody with the ocean’s waves crashing on the shore and the distant wind chimes singing like bells, I knew that no cold would be too much for this beauty. The breeze then felt fine and reminded me that my body was still hot from the workout at the gym. The wind became a comfort not a burden, calming me instead of shutting my senses down.

I walked along the dark shore keeping my senses aware but my mind was thinking. It realized that although the road was rough relief came. Although times were dark,I light was found around a corner. Finally, my mind realized that although it may seem like the wind is cold if you change your perspective something that seems like a burden can be a comfort.

 

A Scene inspired by Supernatural

by tiffanymy creative self, short stories, Stand Alone Short StoriesPosted on No Comments

writing

I am sure most of you will think this is fan fiction and guess what it is. I usually force myself to find my own story and really only be inspired by the television, movies or books I fall in love with. It has been a while though and I think it works best as fan fiction. If you don’t enjoy this little scene, I am sorry, I will go back to my poetry and original stories tomorrow. Today I am being a little fan girl.

Also if you are a fan of Supernatural reading this let me know what you think. I hope you are not expecting a script though, because script formatting is not how my brain thinks for the first draft on paper.

The scene opens with Sam and Dean standing in the bunker’s library area. Sam has an old book in his hand and there is a door drawn on one of the brick walls. Both of the boys are staring at the wall.

After a moment Dean states, “I thought you said it would work.”

Sam responses with, “Just give it a minute.”

As soon as Sam’s words are spoken there is a crash and burst off. The chalk door on the wall flashes like a bright strobe light three times and then all is dark again for split second. The lights come back on and there is a woman, almost as tall as the boys, clothed in every imaginable weapon. She has two large pistols drawn and pointed at the guys.

As soon as the three of them see each other, the woman swings around looking for any danger. When she sees all is  cleared she lowers her guns. “What the heck and how did you do that?”

Uncertain of what to say the two brothers look at each other before Sam answers, “We needed help and was actually thinking we would be summoning some one else.”

Sam’s remark noticeably offends the woman, “Of course you did.” She starts to point one of her pistols at Sam as she talks and tells him, “Well if you are all-powerful now, you can send me back, reverse your stupid summoning ritual. I have a vampire werewolf hybrid to kill.”

Dean smirks and says, “Hey lady, how about you calm down. We’re hunting the same thing. We should hunt it together.”

The woman now is pissed off, “Hey lady?”She starts to aggressively advance to Dean, “Hey lady?! Really Dean, do you want to be shot?”

Sam goes to his brother’s side and calmly tells her, “He meant nothing by it. We are just trying to hunt the same thing.”

Now both guns are pointed at the brothers, “Let me get this straight, you are hunting a vampire werewolf and decided not to call me on my phone to tell me that you now believe me. No, instead of admitting, once again that I was right, you decide,” She looks around to where she came from, “You decide to create a summoning door to summon someone else to hunt my monster?! Well, sorry if I am not happy when you two basically tell me I’m crazy and to go fight it myself then I get yanked back to the bunker when I am mid-fight.”

The two brothers stare at her as she waits for one of them to say something, anything. She waits to strike again. The boys just stand there confused, so she finally shouts, “Really. you’re going to just stand there and act dumb.”

“We’re not acting, so how about you put the guns down and explain from the top what you’re talking about.”

“Shove it, bitch.” The girl says and holsters her guns. She turns while walking towards the tables. The boys slowly follows. She sits on the table while the guys swing chairs around to sit down. She takes a deep breath. “Okay what were you actually summoning for?”

“Help, we need help with the vampire,” Sam started and corrected himself when he saw the woman’s clenched jaw, “with your monster.”

“And why didn’t you just call me, you knew I was on my way to fight it. Why didn’t you just let me in on your penis party?” The woman said and waited for a retort.

She childishly mouthed along with Dean, “It wasn’t a penis party.” Dean was a little taken back by her knowing what he would say. “Who are you?”

“Dean, now is not the time to play that game. You know ever since we were kids it was you two and dad training, while I was stuck with mom, grandpa and the books. Just answer my question. What happened to the phone saying, we’re idjits come back, so we can fight it together.”

Sam looked at her just as puzzled as Dean was. Sam asked her, “Who do you think we are?”

The woman who was not amused told them, “Seriously, I am not in the mood for games. If you made a summoning door just to grab me from a fight tell me and we’ll move on. I’ll moved out, but we’ll move on.”

The woman stood up and readied her self to leave or for one of the guys to stop her. It was Sam who spoke as she stood, “Our mom died when I was six months old.”

“Sammy, that is not funny.  You’re twisted.” She turned to walk out of the bunker, but before she could take a step she saw Castiel standing. “What?” She asked as she quickly rushed to take off her weapons. “How?” The sword that was hanging on her back was the first to leave her body, then the holsters with the two large guns, then the belt with assorted knives and two smaller guns. “I thought.” Next was the long sword that was around her waist along with the two sais that were strapped to her thighs. “We all thought you were.” She unwrapped throwing knives from her calves and then stood up. “There no more weapons.” She walked over to Castiel still rushed and without thinking hugged him tightly, “We all thought you were gone.”

When Castiel did not embrace her as tightly as she did, the woman pulled away. “Cas? What?”

“I am sorry, do I know you?”

The statement visibly hurt the woman. “Cas, look into my eyes and please tell me you know who I am?”

Castiel did as he was told, but could not lie. He could see that she wanted him to know who she was, but he did not, “I am sorry. I do not know who you are.”

“But you know them?”

Castiel nodded and the woman returned to her spot on the table severely defeated. “Guys, no joking, do you know who I am?”

Dean shook his head and Sam whispered, “No, do not.”

The woman kept her eyes down”Are you two the sons of John and Mary Winchester?”

Sam again answered for both of the brothers, “Yes.”

She looked up at Sam and asked, “Did you ever have a sister?”

“No, our mother died when I was six months old.”

With pain filled eyes she asked, “What killed her?”

Dean answered, “The yellow eyed demon.”

“The yellow eye demon? How dad tells.” She paused before correcting herself, “How my dad tells the story he was hardly a hunt. I mean it got Grandpa Samuel, but that was how dad told mom that he was a man of letters and how dad found out mom was a hunter. It was their first hunt together.”

“Your dad was a man of letters?” Sam asked.

“Your’s wasn’t?” She asked.

Sam told her, “Our grandfather, Henry, died before he could tell our dad. “

“Was it when he time traveled to the future to fight Abaddon?”

Dean looked at her, “How did you know?”

“Because you two jerks told me to wait in the car. You said it was too dangerous and you did not need me. I didn’t listen and killed that bitch. Grandpa went home and told dad to name me after him.”

Dean paused and asked”Wait what’s your name?”

“Henrietta.”

“How old are you?” Sam asked.

“27.”

Sam smiled and told Dean, “Mom lived for another four years.”

“My mom died 10 years ago. She lived until I was 17. “

Dean asked, “How?”

Henrietta answered, “Saving our lives.” She then looked straight into Castiel’s eyes and told him, “If you’re brother is pulling anything or playing with me in any way, I will kill him.”

Sam stood up from his chair and patted Henrietta  on the knee, “I could use some coffee before we go on this hunt. Heni do you want any.”

Dean looked at Sam a little confused. Henrietta also looked at Sam but she was a little taken back, “Did you just call me Heni?”

“Yeah, I guess I did. Is that okay?”

“Yeah, it’s just that is your nickname for me.”

Dean laughed and asked, “Heni, like a chicken?”

Henrietta looked at Dean with a blank face and told him one word, “Don’t.”

“So, chicken do you want coffee.”

“You know it seems like so much is different but you are still a tool.” She shook her head with a slight smile and got up. “I think I’ll need something before this hunt.” As the four of them walked  towards the kitchen she mentioned, “We can figure out what’s what while we drink.”

Castiel made sure to walk next to Henrietta and asked, “Why did you take off all your weapons before hugging me.”

“My Cas doesn’t or well didn’t like weapons. He said he came to bring guidance not violence. You would still smite any one that needed it. Honestly I just think all those weapons made it uncomfortable to get close.”

With that they leave the library area of the bunker and go to the kitchen to drink coffee while they discuss their plans to hunt a vampire werewolf hybrid. They leave figuring out Henrietta until after the murderous monster is taken care of.

 I do have a whole detailed back story for Henrietta, but if you missed the major points; Henrietta is the boys’ sister from an alternate time line or universe. In her time line their mother fights the Yellowed eyed demon when she first meets him and kills him. He kills her father, but the demon brings her and John together. John knows about hunting and supernatural things because his father never died in the battle with Abbadon. Henrietta saved him and he was able to raise john as one of the last Men of letters, which helped him help Mary fight the Yellow eyed demon. 

John and Mary raised all three of their kids as hunters and men of letters. However, John was more protective of his little girl and tried to keep her in the bunker, which had been their home for most of their. Since their father was protective of the only girl in the family the brothers were also overly protective of her. Still she did train and was actually pushed to train harder than the guys, since she had something to prove. 

Okay I can go on and on about this character. I am liking her and keep trying to put her in a story of her own, but in my mind she is so tangled up in Supernatural that I can’t.

Any ways,  This is all I can do for tonight. If you ask I will explain more or write another short story about her, but for now it is off to bed for me.

 

Talking To My Gym

by tiffanymonologue, my creative self, short stories, Stand Alone Short StoriesPosted on No Comments

I may be doing random topic  writings lately. I am enjoying writing them and I hope you enjoy reading them. I find it  a fun challenge to write the ordinary in a poetic way or not typical ways. 

writing

Hello, it’s me again. I was pushed by my goals to come and see you again. Let us get this straight I did not want to see you; I did not want to be here. Still here I am. I am walking in pass these glass doors. Before I start I do want to tell you I am drained, tired and it has been a long day. I am not sure how long I will stay or how exciting this visit may be. Maybe I should just turn away and go back home.

No, I will stay. You’re right I need this and I will feel better once I get started. So, here I go. I am starting this thing, called a work-out. I am moving my body that has been locked behind a desk all day.  I’m not going to think about that. I want to think about something else, something better. I know I will make up a story that is only for me about my future adventures that I may have at some point.

Okay, now I am feeling better. Now, that I have started to move and be active, now I feel alive. I am awake and I think I will be able to stay longer. Yes, I am going to stay longer. I am going to push myself. I may fall asleep as soon as I get home, but I will push myself.

I am starting to feel the sweat come on as I start to enjoy being here. This is starting to feel good, like I am really trying. I think I am making a difference with my health. This is great and I am not even paying attention to the time any more. How long have I been on this machine? The machine says half an hour. I guess I should go stretch.

Stretching feels so good. I have been so tight for being stationary for most of the day. It’s nice to pull my muscles at least for a few minutes.

Right, the stretching is done, so it’s back on to the cardio area. I think I will go on a new machine. I want variety, plus I am paying for all these machines. I should get my money’s worth, right? Alright I have not done this lateral moving one in a while.

Let’s see how does this one work? I want the fat burning work-out. Age, weight, wait is that weight again? No, I did something wrong. Age, oh it was target heart rate, now the weight. Alright I am ready to go. No, how do I change the difficulty? I can’t change the resistance I guess. I’ll just start pushing buttons as I work out and see what happens. Nope that mode will kill me. I’m not even going to try that. How about this last one? Yes, it will work, I guess.

Doo de doo now it’s back to my daydreaming, while I do this. Okay, it may be getting easier. Oh, it is and that is because I am going slower. I see the slower I go the easier it is. I am going to push myself. Let’s see how fast I can go. I am going to try to keep this crazy fast pace for five minutes, okay maybe 3. I can do 3 minutes at maximum. I will do this. I will do 3 minutes at maximum. I can’t do it. I want to stop, but I won’t. For some reason being with you makes it harder to take it easy, so I will push myself. I will get to 3 minutes. I am almost there and it’s getting closer. There I did it.

That actually feels great. After a short break at a slower pace I am going to do that again. You know what, maybe you are alright. I don’t know why I hate you so much when I am not around you. I really do enjoy this time here.  Oh, I am almost done with my work-out. I’ll push myself again. I will go as fast as I can. I won’t give up. I can’t give up. Here we go. I can do this. I will finish this work out strong. I am almost there. I will go out strong and I did finish. Great, I feel great. I am really sweat and gross, but I just kicked my butt.

Thank you for being here. I will be back in a day or two. Next time I will try not to be so against you. I know you are here for my health and that is just awesome. I really am happy that you are around. I feel great now and I somehow have more energy.

Let me know what you think of this post. I  am not even sure what category it should go in, but I like writing it.