All posts tagged: short story

Fire Through The Window: The Season of Preparation

  The Fall By Candice Coates, written September 28, 2015 The world looked like fire from the view of her bedroom window. The leaves on the trees had been set ablaze by the match called Fall. Life as she had known it, of thin layers and barefoot days, was slowly burning to smoke, leaving behind ashes of leather boots, sweaters and the scent of earth in the air. “I love the fall,” she said. “There is something lovely about it. It reminds me of the perfect kiss; sweet and intimate, zestful with the shock of chilled lips that slowly ebb into a warmth that leaves you hypnotized, never wanting to let go.” She closed her eyes to the warm caress of the sun’s rays sliding over her eyelids like the softest silk before she pushed away from the window. She wrapped herself within her own arms and smiled brightly. No one was there with her, no one except God, the One who had created the Fall with her in mind and heart. The Beginning. THE BLESSING …

Simply Beautiful: Micro-Fiction by Candice Coates

It was a simple room, done up in a simple state and yet it was nothing short of simply beautiful. The wood floors were well worn and just as well loved. The darkness of the grain showed signs of wear but also echoed with the song of yesteryear that tickled her ears and made her heart dance with each click of her low heeled shoes. This was a blessing. She had prayed for a place of her own, no matter how grand or small and God had answered her. Her prayer, much like King David’s, “Not too much Lord, lest I forget You. And not too little that my hands itch to steal.” Those were her words and He had answered ever plea of her heart. “Thank You,” she whispered with a sigh as the lacey sheer drapes blew into the room on the gentle spring breeze as if the hand of God was hidden within their folds welcoming her to her new abode. “I’m glad you are pleased,” the older woman, Ms. Mcnaughten, answered …

On the Mend: A Short story by Candice Coates

Written April 14, 2014 I got something for you.” Milly smiled at the threshold before entering the room and walking toward Garnet’s bedside box in hand. Garnet studied her curiously, mouth slightly agape. Milly’s smile only brightened. “May I?” she asked, pointing at the bed. “Certainly! Have a seat, Milly.” Garnet tried to offer her a smile in return but he just couldn’t get his face to work that way. He was still too astonished by her being there…on his bed…in his room. Technically it was their room but he had used it alone for so long that he had forgotten how to let her in. He had forgotten how to let her into his heart as well. Milly had been guilty of that as well. The box made a hollow sound as Milly moved it about in her hands. She wanted to be comfortable but not so much that she bumped Garnet’s leg. He had broken it and broken it good. His femur bone was split right in two! It was going to take …

He Bought the Farm by Candice Coates

He wasn’t hiding. He wasn’t the type to do so, but he was the kind to slip away to think. He needed to think. Milo, his four-legged shadow followed him, nestling close by, gazing back at the house as if he too was weighing his options. Blake scratched behind Milo’s warm fuzzy ears earning himself a grateful dog-grin. “What do you think, buddy? What should we do?” As usual, Milo had no answer. He only licked his chops, gave a contend yawn, before bedding down deeper into the grass. Blake smiled. Maybe that was Milo’s answer. He was happy right where he was. Truth be told, so was Blake. They’d, Blake his wife Paisley and Milo, had happily moved out to the quiet country nearly five years ago. Happy may have been an overstatement. They not so simply needed a change of pace, a change in their reality. Past decisions had caught up with Blake leaving an unrelenting stain on Paisley’s career. Her employers had said as much, she was guilty by association. She needed to distance …

Coin Toss: A Short Story by Candice Coates

Heads or tails?” “What? You can’t be seri-” “Heads? Or tales?” Quarter sat at the ready, balanced atop the smoothness of his thumbnail, Josiah cut off her words. It wasn’t so much his words that eased her into silence, but the glint in his eyes and the smile that curved his lips. He was serious, deadly serious. Severin pressed her eyes closed and pinched the bridge of her nose, feeling nervousness roll up and around her belly. Had she actually eaten the lunch he had packed for them instead of anxiously pushing it around with her fork, nibbling it here and there, she would have had no room inside for anxiety to fill her guts in the first place. At least the plate was neatly stashed away in the cooler for later if she survived to eat it later. Of course, the coin was two-sided so there was the other option that didn’t involve leaping to her death, but it did have a “leap” all its own. As it were, Severin Hastings, true to her name, had …

A Golden Confession: A Short Story by Candice Coates

He sat his cup down and pressed his lips together in a hard line. She didn’t know if his expression was due to the bitterness of the brew or what she’d just said. “I’m sorry!” she spat out. “I shouldn’t have said anything,” she tried to press the burn of embarrassment from her cheeks with her trembling hands that had grown surprisingly cold despite the heat of the cup she’d been gripping as if it were a lifeline. She’d clearly not gripped tight enough. She felt as if she were on the verge of death, dying of utter humiliation. Worse, it was her own doing. Why had she never learned to keep her mouth shut? At least she had already put in her resignation. Hazel eyes, that normally shown with flecks of gold, green, and brown simmered like deep emeralds. He stared at her, seeming to not blink, his lips slowly drawing from stiffness to softness, but his eyes continued to blaze. “I’m sorry, Mr. Gold,” she apologized again. “You see? This is why … …

Fear of Forgiveness by Rachael Ritchey

A hard flick to my hat brim detonated a cloud of dust into the sweltering, stagnant air, and I hated how the subtle imagery matched the powder keg of dread ready to bust my chest open. Selena coughed and punched my hip. I cringed. No doubt she was glaring at me, too, but I shrugged it off and stepped forward, jamming the Stetson back on my sweaty head. “Go get ’em, tiger!” she said. I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help the reluctant smile, even if it didn’t last long. Did I deserve a second chance? Hell no, but Selena convinced me to give it a shot, and I wasn’t going to let her down. She kept insisting what happened wasn’t my fault, but every time I looked at her, crippled and trapped in that godawful wheelchair, I couldn’t shake the guilt. If only I could take back what happened a year ago. If only I could rewind the clock and stop my sister from getting trampled in that stampede. If I’d been there on …

What They Say: Fiction by Candice Coates

“The only time I want to see a whole lot of red inky letters on paper is when Jesus is talking in my Bible, not when I have to hand you back your manuscript!” Mr. Hopeheld drummed his fingers on his desk, the frustration in his eyes melting into compassion. “Don’t look so chewed up. You and I both know you can do better than this. This,” He stabbed his pointer finger into the tome upon his shiny desktop. “This was a distracted effort of lifeless words and that just isn’t who you are.” The tempered rebuke from Lloyd’s publisher a week ago had nearly given him an ulcer. The sad thing was Mr. Hopeheld was right in all he said. The only problem was that him being right had not helped Lloyd one iota. He’d only told him what he’d already known. Lloyd didn’t believe in writer’s block. The truth was he always had something to say, always had some character whispering in his ears, flashing pictures of their questionable misadventures before his eyes. But …

Handful of Hope: A Short Story & Encouragement

She wanted to see if they could float so with faith she tossed them across the sackcloth that would be the sky and watched as her handful of hope like diamonds suspended themselves and twinkled as stars. She wasn’t the King Creator, nor His Glorious Son, but she was born of His Spirit, and thusly imbued with the authority and call to create. She was learning how to do so with a voice and song uniquely her own, a song she longed to sing to please only His ears. So she tossed up another handful of hope and watched it twinkle and grow in light until the inky darkness bled away yielding to the brilliance of life. The cold uncertainty that had once made her limbs stiff with immobility began to retreat as her being grew warm with the fire of expectation and joy. Handful after handful of hope and dreams and faith jettisoned from her vibrant fingertips and ate away at the dreadful nothing that sought to blanket her with fear. Laughter erupted from her …