Jazz------- His trumpet was loose in his left hand as he sat in the hospital room. His right hand, he held his girlfriend’s as she slept. He looked across the room at the plastic crib that held their newborn daughter. He wanted to play right then. He was itching to play. Itching to let out a thousand blasting notes proclaiming it to all the world: he was a father.Jazz21 hours ago in Short Stories More Like This
------- Well, he was trying to be. He was off to a bad start. She’d called him just as his band was coming back from a break. Through the noise of the club and the hallway to the kitchen, he’d managed to hear that she was going into labor. She was in an ambulance and she was on her way to the hospital.
----- “They’re saying it could be soon, real soon.”
----- “These things though, they can take hours, like sometimes a whole day, though right?”
----- “I don’t know,” break for a groaning scream from her, “I think you need to come down her.”
----- He finge
Dying Golden Pothos Clayton walked through the house looking for his mother. He rubbed his eyes with his little balled up fists and yawned. “Mommy?” He called out.Dying Golden Pothos9 hours ago in Short Stories More Like This
“In here!” He heard his mother answer from her office. He shuffled into the same room as her and gave her a hug good morning. She gave him a kiss on his forehead and continued typing. She was working from home today.
Clayton looked around her office like he does every morning she’s here working. The pastel yellow walls were blank. He never understood why his mother never hung anything up like she hung up in his room. He has pictures of cars and baseballs all over his blue walls. After letting his eyes wonder, Clayton notices the houseplant on the edge of his mother’s desk by the window.
“Mommy, what’s wrong with your plant?” He inquired curiously. He scrunched his nose at the browning plant.
“Oh, dear. I must have fo
Please, GodI started praying for the success of sports teams when I was around four-years-old. My dad was a huge fan of the Braves. My room has been the same shades of red and navy blue since I was born. When I mentioned that I really liked the color orange instead, I was yelled at. We aren't Mets fans, he said. And so I never brought it up again because I hate being yelled at almost as much as I hate it when the Atlanta Braves lose.Please, God6 hours ago in Short Stories More Like This
I'm not really sure what other kids pray for when they kneel at their bed sides. My mom taught me the ritual early on and even though she's gone now I continue it in her memory. I always pray that the Braves win and I pray that her soul rests peacefully. I often feel guilty that I pray for her soul second to my own, but I guess the living take precedence over the dead.
My first relationship in middle school ended because my girlfriend caught me praying. No, she wasn't against religion. She was just disgusted that I would pray for a team victory rather than the safety
Describe Heaven I woke up to the smell of cleaning products and vomit. I sat straight in the chair I’d fallen asleep in and stared at my mother lying in the most depressing hospital bed I’ve ever seen. She was pale and weak. She had some grey leftover vomit on her chin and the bucket on her lap was almost filled. I stood up to press the button for the nurse and put my hand on my mother’s head. I gently caressed the last tufts of hair she had left to comfort her.Describe Heaven7 hours ago in Short Stories More Like This
The petit nurse came in and cleaned up my mother. I could tell by the way my mother was looking at me she was embarrassed and morose. The little blonde nurse left the room and my mother’s tears started to fall. She put her frail hands over her face and sobbed. The sound of my mother in such agony was heart breaking.
I scooted my chair closer to her bed and took her hands away from her face to hold. I’d ask her what’s wrong but that would be a really stupid and insens