A new short story...

Memories

She sits silently, waiting. Light streams unevenly through the broken blinds, creating a jagged pattern against the bare wall. The wall wasn’t always bare, but that’s all almost forgotten now. The days when the walls told a very different story, had a different life. Now they are just empty; empty and forgotten.

Slowly she gets up from the hard floor. She brushes herself off and walks up to the broken blinds. She pulls them aside creating dust swirls to move through the air as more light streams into the room.  She holds her hand up to shield from the brightness. Still waiting.

She turns to survey the empty walls and a room which once held everything she thought she wanted. Now not only the walls are empty, but so is she. The wooden floors covered with the dust of being unwanted and unloved. Only a lonely suitcase sits neatly by the doorway.

She moves across the room, to the once busy hallway. There was always someone coming and going. The long silent corridor stretches the length of the house, several other empty rooms off it. She decides to return to the window, not wanting to enter any of those rooms.

She pulls the broken blinds open, and as she does, they finally drop, seeming to have lost any hope of being repaired. They land on the floor with a loud crash; dust clouds fly through the bright light now streaming in. She stares at them lying defeated on the floor and decides to leave them. There is no point in trying to fix something that is broken for good.

She stares out the window, squinting in the light. She doesn’t shield herself this time. Slowly she closes her eyes, allowing the warm sunlight to wash over her. A flash of a memory flickers in her mind. A warm day, laughter, love, happiness. The life she thought she wanted. She opens her eyes, still waiting.

Finally the car pulls up outside. She sighs. She turns and walks towards the doorway and picks up the lonely suitcase. She walks out of the room for the last time and slowly heads for the front door. As she exits the house, she knows she will never come back, never have this life again. The memories will be hidden deep, forgotten like the bare wall inside the room, inside the house, which once held everything she thought she wanted.

By Ariane Dalton

A couple of my old short stories...

Emotions

The cool wood lays smooth under my hands. The warmth cascades my back. Birds flutter past, echoing the song beyond the doorway. I lean listening, calling, urging me inside. Slowly, gently I push the grand doorway open. It creaks loudly-the cry of movement. I hesitate, has the singing stopped? I listen tentatively. No, the hymns drift slowly my way. The rhythm, the note of faith, worship.

  My  feet whisper an echo as I stroll down the stone aisle. My fingertips glide across rows and rows of worshippers. The singing stops, oh please keep going, I plead. A new rhythm starts. One heard many times before. I hear the shuffle of movement, all whispering turned my way.

  I grip the stems of roses tightly. The abandoned thorns pierce my skin. The lose, flowing fabric muffles the fast shuffle my feet have increased to. Will I ever get there? A cough interrupts my train of helpless thoughts. I am still surrounded.

  I push the roses up to my nose. Smooth sweet petals engulf my face. My shoulders relax. This is the day, I think, this is my day.

  I reluctantly carry on, down an unknown path.

“Don’t be afraid.”, I hear my mothers voice. “Don’t be afraid.”

  Stronger, my eyes closed, for I know with them open I would turn around. I eventually stop. A warm, safe hand covers mine. I flood with relief, I made it.

  The talking begins, I try to concentrate but the warm hand in mine prevents it. A different language surrounds me, fills my ears. The hand squeezes mine. I awake from my thoughts.

“I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.”, A happy voice in my language chimes.

  A kiss. Happiness unexpectedly engulfs me. I feel an urge to fly. To echo with the birds outside. The bells chime as I get swept off my feet. We glide into the warmth. Happy, joyful laughter fills me. More petals drift, covering my hair. The cathedral empties. My fear with it.

By Ariane Dalton

Blind Blue

A rush of cool ocean splashes up to your knees. You shiver. A breeze enfolds you. You shiver again. Slowly your arms wrap around your body, blocking the wind, chasing it away with your warmth. Gently you remove one hand and place it in the sea. The water numbs your fingers. As you bring your fingers up to your mouth, the salty taste tingles on your lips. Rain starts to fall, drenching you. It cleans away the saltiness. Splashes, hundreds of splashes surround you. The droplets seem to be crying quietly, help, help, help. The level has risen, the push and pull of the current drags you. You have to leave but the cool ocean holds you, urging you to go deeper, to fill your lungs with the salty blue of the sea. Another unseen force pulls you the other way. Safety, oxygen, life. Slowly, carefully you turn. A wave crashes over you. Almost immediately, you hear a calmness, more calm and more silent than you have ever heard before. A salty taste fills your mouth, your nose, your lungs. The giant blue blankets over you. Sounds fade, feelings fade. No more breeze to chill you.

By Ariane Dalton

Where to start....

This is my first attempt at a blog. I've been encouraged by a few people to share my writing, as I hope to eventually write my own book. Seeing everything seems to start online these days, this is probably a good way to test the waters, as one would say! So stay tuned...I might just start with some old stuff to warm up.