Short Story Collection
Short story compilation
Short Story Compilation
This is s series of four short stories that I put together for a college class. They are relatively short in nature so I joined them into this one compilation.
Insane
Michelle Zinoye enters the office of Dr. Gregory Chevinsky her shrink for the past year. She has had many therapy sessions and is at the brink of figuring out her depression. Gregory has been very good with her and has been able to get lots of useful information that had been repressed inside her head. Michelle is thirty years old, has two children and is divorced. Gregory is now in his sixties and very much a father figure type in her life. She looks forward to his sessions every Tuesday. The secretary waves her through, and she heads right into his office.
His many plaques adorn the walls indicating his fine standing in the psychiatric community, and his high scores during his college years. Normally, his office his clean, orderly and has bright cheerful flowers on his desk. Today, she is amazed to see that his flowers are rotten and wilted, papers are strewn all over his desk and floor; the place is in shambles. Finally, the door opens and in walks Dr. Chevinsky.
“Hi” he says nonchalantly.
“Hi” she responds with uncertainty.
“You are??” he says with a serious expression.
“Michelle, your client of the past year” she says taken aback. “Something is definitely not looking right with the doctor”.
“Oh yes, Michelle…you never can tell, my, my, my, my Michelle.” He starts to sing the lyric to a Guns and Roses song.
“We left off with you discovering that I had been belittled and teased as a child and that is what my depression was stemming from!” Michelle hopes it brings a flicker of recognition.
“Oh yes. Now I remember you are the one that is obsessed with sniffing women’s panties, right?” He wags his finger at her in disapproval.
“WHAT!” she yells. “No! That is not me. I am 100% heterosexual, thank you.” Michelle is starting to feel goosebumps on her flesh at the doctors strange behavior.
“Well, wait that is me. Ha ha ha, never mind. Um…. You are the sex crazed nymphomaniac that likes to urinate on your partners.”
“What the hell are you talking about? Why are you doing this? What has gotten into you?” she yells. Unconcerned he continues.
“Ha ha! Sorry! Me again! Oh wait, Michelle, Michelle Zinoye, the bitch that moans and moans about her problems, when all she really needs is some uppers and a man. Or is that me? I get so confused lately.” He starts to laugh insanely, and rubbing his groin area. Tears start to well up in her eyes. She has never been treated this way in all of her life. Doctor Chevinsky seems to have lost his grip on reality. As he picks his nose Michelle starts to wonder what she can do. “What is my next step besides a different doctor. I don’t want a different doctor because then I have to rehash everything all over again, but he is clearly off his rocker. Too long in the psychiatric field, he can’t distinguish one client from the other, himself from the clients, or the gravity of his situation.” As she cries at the thought of switching doctors, Gregory does the unimaginable. He leaps in front of his desk, pulls out a gun then shoots himself in the head. His lifeless body hits the floor. A distraught Michelle flees the room, having yet another issue to cope with and add to her depression. It appears the doctor did discover how far beyond the norm he had gotten and took care of the situation the only way he knew how.
Persecution
Reverend John Carpetti hosts the “Street Evangelist” the latest craze to sweep the television. It features him and three other evangelists who hit the streets to preach the bible and put “wrongdoers” in their place. He is extremely excited as he is about to pick on the homeless. With a chuckle, he takes his bible and a camera crew.
“Let’s get em” he replies as they head to city where the homeless hang out in droves. “There is one let’s go.” His camera crew fall in behind him.
“This is John Carpetti, and today on the Street Evangelist we are going to talk to the homeless and see what God’s word has to say to them.” Smelling victory John swoops in on a homeless man.
The homeless man is wearing camouflage pants, with a thin green jacket that says U.S Army on it. The clothes are dirty and in tatters, and the owner with his greasy, slimy, lice filled, uncombed hair is trying to move away from the man with the cameras. Unfortunately, a throng has developed due to the camera crew and the homeless man cannot get away.
“Hello, I am Reverend John Carpetti the street evangelist. Who are you sir?” He thrusts the microphone into the vagabond’s face.
“I am Stephen Johnson, get that mike out of my face.” Stephen tries in vain to get away.
“Settle down, Stephen” he wrinkles his nose in disgust at the smell of urine, sweat, and the unwashed body of the homeless man. “I just want to address a few issues of the bible with you.” At the mention of the bible Stephens eyes brighten.
“The bible you say. Well now, let’s go evangelist, tell me all about the bible.”
“Well, I want to bring up Proverbs 10:4. “Lazy hands make a man poor, but diligent hands bring wealth.” Do you suppose that is why you are in the situation you are in? Maybe if you weren’t so lazy the lord would bless you and you would have wealth?” John smiles to the camera and the acknowledgement of the crowd. Stephen whips out a rusty knife. The crowd screams, and John jumps back in fear of his life.
“Maybe you should scan to the next page where in Proverbs 10:31 says that “the mouth of the righteous brings forth wisdom, but a perverse tongue will be cut out.” Do you think the crowd will cheer if I do the Lord’s work and cut your perverse tongue out? Why do you attack the homeless? Am I lazy? NO! Not unless you call walking around from sun-up to sundown looking in all the garbages for something to eat lazy? Do you do that much walking, Mr. Evangelist? Have you fought for our country? I fought in the Vietnam war and what is my reward?” He motions to the garbage cans and the filth all around. “I fought for my country and because of the post traumatic stress that ensued I was deemed crazy. How easy is to find a job after being deemed crazy? You haven’t answered any of my questions John, I answered yours.” Roving, darting eyes burn into the evangelists soul, finding none there they stare into his eyes. John shivers at the stare. He senses he is losing the crowd.
“In Proverbs 9 it states “honor the Lord with your wealth” what money are you bringing to him to honor him. Stephen laughs a guttural laugh, mocking and boastful.
“The scripture concludes with “with the firstfruits of all your crops.” My firstfruits is my love for God and that I read the Every day. Do you really do that? Jesus pointed out to the Pharisees that the women who was poor that gave everything was giving more than the rich who were giving out of their surplus. Where does your money go when you get donations? To quote Jesus from Matthew 16:23, “Get behind me Satan! You are a stumbling block to me.” Leave me alone now please, as I have to find food to eat.”
“Amen brother, Amen!” came from an individual in the crowd. Like the red sea parted for the Israelites, the crowd too parted to let Stephen pass. John was left looking dumbfounded with the mike in his hands. The crowd left him to his misery no longer believing in anything John the “Street Evangelist had to say.
The Tenant
Henry Watkins easily breaks into the apartment and lets himself inside. He had been watching the place for weeks and casually discovered from the tenants that they would be away for two weeks. This would give Henry plenty of time to confiscate the valuables from the apartment. He whistles softly as he draws all the shades, to keep the light from escaping to the outside and alerting others. He was almost done with that chore when there was a knock on the door. Henry froze as he was unsure what to do. If he answered it and someone knew he didn’t live there they would alert the police, if he didn’t answer it then it may raise an alarm if someone did happen to notice activity in here. As he was deliberating the decision was made for him.
“This is Officer Dan Dooley, the neighbor from up the hall. I heard noise in here, and am investigating.”
“Shee-It”, Henry exclaims. Henry has always been known as a fast talker so he figures he can smooth his way through this then be done with it. The challenge to outwit and officer proves to be much higher than just simply hightailing out a window and Henry heads to the door.
“Good Evening Officer!” Henry puts on his charming smile.
“Good Evening, and you are?” as the officer asks this he is checking past Henry to see if he can see anymore suspects.
“I am Chad, a friend of the family’s. They wanted me to house sit.”
“To house sit? I see. Do you happen to have a license on you Chad, so I can see that you are indeed Chad, and what is your last name?”
“Wick! Chad Wick, and I don’t have a license because I don’t drive.” Sweat surfaces in buckets on Henry’s forehead as he is starting to think his plan has holes.
“I am a neighbor that lives in apartment 22B. This family told me they were going away, and I happened to briefly see a light on in here, so I came to check. What is the name of this family?” Officer Dooley’s eyes bore into Henry’s. Henry had fortunately struck up a conversation with the wife recently so he answers with confidence.
“The Agmonics! Stephen and Gwen Agmonic!” The officer nods his head in agreement and writes some more info down on his paper.
“Hold on a second, Chad.” Officer Dooley speaks into his radio. “Yes that’s right there is a Ford Mustang, GT, black in color. License plate number 3 Alpha, 8 Charlie, 2 Delta, 5.” He rattles off the vin number. “It is not a familiar car, get back to me when you get a name, and get me a description of the driver. O.K Chad. Nothing you need to worry about. Just police business; and you don’t drive so I know it’s not your car out there.” The cop leaves the statement in the air. It hits Henry heavy as he struggles to find a way out of it.
“Is there anything else officer? I know the family, and I am just house sitting. Am I done?” He hopes that this will throw Officer Dooley off the scent. The Officer does not budge.
“Well, let’s see, I am curious as to why you dressed in black like that. It is kind of suspicious from my standpoint anyway.” The question appears harmless but it is vicious in its attempt to rattle Henry.
“Well, I like black. I am kinda one of those Gothic freaks you hear about. I love to dress in black all the time. Ha Ha Ha.” His laugh comes off more nervous than confident.
“I see.” Officer Dooley gets the word back on the vehicle but puts on his earplugs so Henry can’t hear what is being said. “Oh, I see. Henry Watkins. Uh-huh, right, gotcha. Thank you.” With a knowing smile Officer Dooley turns his radio off. “I guess we are done with you Mr. Watkins. You have a good time house sitting.”
“Thank you Officer.” He realizes too late that he responded to the Mr. Watkins statement instead of denying it.
“Gotcha!” Officer Dooley states. “I had you from the minute you opened the door Mr. Watkins, because the Agmonics are my best friends and they actually have me house sitting for them.” With a defeated sigh Henry Watkins surrenders to the sound of Officer Dooley’s uproarious laughter. Henry’s only dream is that he doesn’t end up as one of the criminals on “America’s Dumbest Criminals.”
If Only…
Heather Dimarco smashes the mirror with her fist. Blood trickles down her knuckles, but she welcomes the pain. The physical pain pales in comparison to the pain of her miscarriage just 24 hours ago. Things were going great, the baby appeared healthy; then she woke up to the blood soaked sheets. She went in to her OBGYN and was told that the baby was gone. It had been miscarried. The last remnants of the baby lay in the blood on the sheets; which she had kept and placed in garbage bag in the basement. The last trace of the unborn baby, kept until a less delicate time; when Heather can deal with the loss and move on. Her husband had been supportive with promises of “another baby” but the wound is still raw, does she want to go through with this again? Her four year old daughter approached her with confusion and lots of questions.
“Hello sweetie, my Alexandra angel. How are you doing?”
“I am doing ok mommy. I am just wondering what happened to my baby sister, I thought she was going to be here soon, and now you say she isn’t. Does my sister not like me?” Tears assimilate into her eyes as she looks pleadingly at her mom.
“Of course not sweetie. Your sister, well, she had an accident while she was in mommy’s belly and hurt herself.”
“She hurt herself. Can I get her a band-aid?” Alexandra goes from to sad to helpful instantly.
No!” Heather giggles in pleasure at her daughter’s willingness to help. “She hurt herself really bad and is getting help now by Jesus in heaven.” Alexandra’s brow furrows as she tries to digest the new information.
“Wow! She is with Jesus.” The little girl asks excitedly.
“Yes! She is up there waiting for the time when we can see her.” Heather is soothed by her daughter’s newfound calmness and peace.
“Great! But momma; am I going to get another sister now?” The question unintentionally cuts to the bone as Heather is not quite sure of that answer yet.
“Momma” Alexandra cuts into her silence. “Momma; am I going to have another sister.”
“I don’t know, I really don’t know Alexandra.” She sighs hoping that is the end of the questioning.
“I hope I get to. You know another baby should get to experience the wonderful mommy I have. You are truly the best mommy ever. I would be willing to share you mommy, if only I could get another sister.” She runs over and hugs Heather with such fierceness and strength that Heather can feel the truth and power. The words of her daughter and the hug move Heather in such a way that she could do nothing else but hold on to her daughter.
“I could only promise a baby, I can’t determine whether it will be a brother or sister.” Heather can’t believe she said the words, but they are out there and sweet Alexandra picked them up and held them to her humongous heart.
“Yeah, I am going to tell Daddy.” Heather watches as the Alexandra skips down the hall with excitement oozing out of the pores.
“Well, we will have to wait and see…” she replies to the heavens. She thinks about her daughter’s statement and whispers “if only….”
This is s series of four short stories that I put together for a college class. They are relatively short in nature so I joined them into this one compilation.
Insane
Michelle Zinoye enters the office of Dr. Gregory Chevinsky her shrink for the past year. She has had many therapy sessions and is at the brink of figuring out her depression. Gregory has been very good with her and has been able to get lots of useful information that had been repressed inside her head. Michelle is thirty years old, has two children and is divorced. Gregory is now in his sixties and very much a father figure type in her life. She looks forward to his sessions every Tuesday. The secretary waves her through, and she heads right into his office.
His many plaques adorn the walls indicating his fine standing in the psychiatric community, and his high scores during his college years. Normally, his office his clean, orderly and has bright cheerful flowers on his desk. Today, she is amazed to see that his flowers are rotten and wilted, papers are strewn all over his desk and floor; the place is in shambles. Finally, the door opens and in walks Dr. Chevinsky.
“Hi” he says nonchalantly.
“Hi” she responds with uncertainty.
“You are??” he says with a serious expression.
“Michelle, your client of the past year” she says taken aback. “Something is definitely not looking right with the doctor”.
“Oh yes, Michelle…you never can tell, my, my, my, my Michelle.” He starts to sing the lyric to a Guns and Roses song.
“We left off with you discovering that I had been belittled and teased as a child and that is what my depression was stemming from!” Michelle hopes it brings a flicker of recognition.
“Oh yes. Now I remember you are the one that is obsessed with sniffing women’s panties, right?” He wags his finger at her in disapproval.
“WHAT!” she yells. “No! That is not me. I am 100% heterosexual, thank you.” Michelle is starting to feel goosebumps on her flesh at the doctors strange behavior.
“Well, wait that is me. Ha ha ha, never mind. Um…. You are the sex crazed nymphomaniac that likes to urinate on your partners.”
“What the hell are you talking about? Why are you doing this? What has gotten into you?” she yells. Unconcerned he continues.
“Ha ha! Sorry! Me again! Oh wait, Michelle, Michelle Zinoye, the bitch that moans and moans about her problems, when all she really needs is some uppers and a man. Or is that me? I get so confused lately.” He starts to laugh insanely, and rubbing his groin area. Tears start to well up in her eyes. She has never been treated this way in all of her life. Doctor Chevinsky seems to have lost his grip on reality. As he picks his nose Michelle starts to wonder what she can do. “What is my next step besides a different doctor. I don’t want a different doctor because then I have to rehash everything all over again, but he is clearly off his rocker. Too long in the psychiatric field, he can’t distinguish one client from the other, himself from the clients, or the gravity of his situation.” As she cries at the thought of switching doctors, Gregory does the unimaginable. He leaps in front of his desk, pulls out a gun then shoots himself in the head. His lifeless body hits the floor. A distraught Michelle flees the room, having yet another issue to cope with and add to her depression. It appears the doctor did discover how far beyond the norm he had gotten and took care of the situation the only way he knew how.
Persecution
Reverend John Carpetti hosts the “Street Evangelist” the latest craze to sweep the television. It features him and three other evangelists who hit the streets to preach the bible and put “wrongdoers” in their place. He is extremely excited as he is about to pick on the homeless. With a chuckle, he takes his bible and a camera crew.
“Let’s get em” he replies as they head to city where the homeless hang out in droves. “There is one let’s go.” His camera crew fall in behind him.
“This is John Carpetti, and today on the Street Evangelist we are going to talk to the homeless and see what God’s word has to say to them.” Smelling victory John swoops in on a homeless man.
The homeless man is wearing camouflage pants, with a thin green jacket that says U.S Army on it. The clothes are dirty and in tatters, and the owner with his greasy, slimy, lice filled, uncombed hair is trying to move away from the man with the cameras. Unfortunately, a throng has developed due to the camera crew and the homeless man cannot get away.
“Hello, I am Reverend John Carpetti the street evangelist. Who are you sir?” He thrusts the microphone into the vagabond’s face.
“I am Stephen Johnson, get that mike out of my face.” Stephen tries in vain to get away.
“Settle down, Stephen” he wrinkles his nose in disgust at the smell of urine, sweat, and the unwashed body of the homeless man. “I just want to address a few issues of the bible with you.” At the mention of the bible Stephens eyes brighten.
“The bible you say. Well now, let’s go evangelist, tell me all about the bible.”
“Well, I want to bring up Proverbs 10:4. “Lazy hands make a man poor, but diligent hands bring wealth.” Do you suppose that is why you are in the situation you are in? Maybe if you weren’t so lazy the lord would bless you and you would have wealth?” John smiles to the camera and the acknowledgement of the crowd. Stephen whips out a rusty knife. The crowd screams, and John jumps back in fear of his life.
“Maybe you should scan to the next page where in Proverbs 10:31 says that “the mouth of the righteous brings forth wisdom, but a perverse tongue will be cut out.” Do you think the crowd will cheer if I do the Lord’s work and cut your perverse tongue out? Why do you attack the homeless? Am I lazy? NO! Not unless you call walking around from sun-up to sundown looking in all the garbages for something to eat lazy? Do you do that much walking, Mr. Evangelist? Have you fought for our country? I fought in the Vietnam war and what is my reward?” He motions to the garbage cans and the filth all around. “I fought for my country and because of the post traumatic stress that ensued I was deemed crazy. How easy is to find a job after being deemed crazy? You haven’t answered any of my questions John, I answered yours.” Roving, darting eyes burn into the evangelists soul, finding none there they stare into his eyes. John shivers at the stare. He senses he is losing the crowd.
“In Proverbs 9 it states “honor the Lord with your wealth” what money are you bringing to him to honor him. Stephen laughs a guttural laugh, mocking and boastful.
“The scripture concludes with “with the firstfruits of all your crops.” My firstfruits is my love for God and that I read the Every day. Do you really do that? Jesus pointed out to the Pharisees that the women who was poor that gave everything was giving more than the rich who were giving out of their surplus. Where does your money go when you get donations? To quote Jesus from Matthew 16:23, “Get behind me Satan! You are a stumbling block to me.” Leave me alone now please, as I have to find food to eat.”
“Amen brother, Amen!” came from an individual in the crowd. Like the red sea parted for the Israelites, the crowd too parted to let Stephen pass. John was left looking dumbfounded with the mike in his hands. The crowd left him to his misery no longer believing in anything John the “Street Evangelist had to say.
The Tenant
Henry Watkins easily breaks into the apartment and lets himself inside. He had been watching the place for weeks and casually discovered from the tenants that they would be away for two weeks. This would give Henry plenty of time to confiscate the valuables from the apartment. He whistles softly as he draws all the shades, to keep the light from escaping to the outside and alerting others. He was almost done with that chore when there was a knock on the door. Henry froze as he was unsure what to do. If he answered it and someone knew he didn’t live there they would alert the police, if he didn’t answer it then it may raise an alarm if someone did happen to notice activity in here. As he was deliberating the decision was made for him.
“This is Officer Dan Dooley, the neighbor from up the hall. I heard noise in here, and am investigating.”
“Shee-It”, Henry exclaims. Henry has always been known as a fast talker so he figures he can smooth his way through this then be done with it. The challenge to outwit and officer proves to be much higher than just simply hightailing out a window and Henry heads to the door.
“Good Evening Officer!” Henry puts on his charming smile.
“Good Evening, and you are?” as the officer asks this he is checking past Henry to see if he can see anymore suspects.
“I am Chad, a friend of the family’s. They wanted me to house sit.”
“To house sit? I see. Do you happen to have a license on you Chad, so I can see that you are indeed Chad, and what is your last name?”
“Wick! Chad Wick, and I don’t have a license because I don’t drive.” Sweat surfaces in buckets on Henry’s forehead as he is starting to think his plan has holes.
“I am a neighbor that lives in apartment 22B. This family told me they were going away, and I happened to briefly see a light on in here, so I came to check. What is the name of this family?” Officer Dooley’s eyes bore into Henry’s. Henry had fortunately struck up a conversation with the wife recently so he answers with confidence.
“The Agmonics! Stephen and Gwen Agmonic!” The officer nods his head in agreement and writes some more info down on his paper.
“Hold on a second, Chad.” Officer Dooley speaks into his radio. “Yes that’s right there is a Ford Mustang, GT, black in color. License plate number 3 Alpha, 8 Charlie, 2 Delta, 5.” He rattles off the vin number. “It is not a familiar car, get back to me when you get a name, and get me a description of the driver. O.K Chad. Nothing you need to worry about. Just police business; and you don’t drive so I know it’s not your car out there.” The cop leaves the statement in the air. It hits Henry heavy as he struggles to find a way out of it.
“Is there anything else officer? I know the family, and I am just house sitting. Am I done?” He hopes that this will throw Officer Dooley off the scent. The Officer does not budge.
“Well, let’s see, I am curious as to why you dressed in black like that. It is kind of suspicious from my standpoint anyway.” The question appears harmless but it is vicious in its attempt to rattle Henry.
“Well, I like black. I am kinda one of those Gothic freaks you hear about. I love to dress in black all the time. Ha Ha Ha.” His laugh comes off more nervous than confident.
“I see.” Officer Dooley gets the word back on the vehicle but puts on his earplugs so Henry can’t hear what is being said. “Oh, I see. Henry Watkins. Uh-huh, right, gotcha. Thank you.” With a knowing smile Officer Dooley turns his radio off. “I guess we are done with you Mr. Watkins. You have a good time house sitting.”
“Thank you Officer.” He realizes too late that he responded to the Mr. Watkins statement instead of denying it.
“Gotcha!” Officer Dooley states. “I had you from the minute you opened the door Mr. Watkins, because the Agmonics are my best friends and they actually have me house sitting for them.” With a defeated sigh Henry Watkins surrenders to the sound of Officer Dooley’s uproarious laughter. Henry’s only dream is that he doesn’t end up as one of the criminals on “America’s Dumbest Criminals.”
If Only…
Heather Dimarco smashes the mirror with her fist. Blood trickles down her knuckles, but she welcomes the pain. The physical pain pales in comparison to the pain of her miscarriage just 24 hours ago. Things were going great, the baby appeared healthy; then she woke up to the blood soaked sheets. She went in to her OBGYN and was told that the baby was gone. It had been miscarried. The last remnants of the baby lay in the blood on the sheets; which she had kept and placed in garbage bag in the basement. The last trace of the unborn baby, kept until a less delicate time; when Heather can deal with the loss and move on. Her husband had been supportive with promises of “another baby” but the wound is still raw, does she want to go through with this again? Her four year old daughter approached her with confusion and lots of questions.
“Hello sweetie, my Alexandra angel. How are you doing?”
“I am doing ok mommy. I am just wondering what happened to my baby sister, I thought she was going to be here soon, and now you say she isn’t. Does my sister not like me?” Tears assimilate into her eyes as she looks pleadingly at her mom.
“Of course not sweetie. Your sister, well, she had an accident while she was in mommy’s belly and hurt herself.”
“She hurt herself. Can I get her a band-aid?” Alexandra goes from to sad to helpful instantly.
No!” Heather giggles in pleasure at her daughter’s willingness to help. “She hurt herself really bad and is getting help now by Jesus in heaven.” Alexandra’s brow furrows as she tries to digest the new information.
“Wow! She is with Jesus.” The little girl asks excitedly.
“Yes! She is up there waiting for the time when we can see her.” Heather is soothed by her daughter’s newfound calmness and peace.
“Great! But momma; am I going to get another sister now?” The question unintentionally cuts to the bone as Heather is not quite sure of that answer yet.
“Momma” Alexandra cuts into her silence. “Momma; am I going to have another sister.”
“I don’t know, I really don’t know Alexandra.” She sighs hoping that is the end of the questioning.
“I hope I get to. You know another baby should get to experience the wonderful mommy I have. You are truly the best mommy ever. I would be willing to share you mommy, if only I could get another sister.” She runs over and hugs Heather with such fierceness and strength that Heather can feel the truth and power. The words of her daughter and the hug move Heather in such a way that she could do nothing else but hold on to her daughter.
“I could only promise a baby, I can’t determine whether it will be a brother or sister.” Heather can’t believe she said the words, but they are out there and sweet Alexandra picked them up and held them to her humongous heart.
“Yeah, I am going to tell Daddy.” Heather watches as the Alexandra skips down the hall with excitement oozing out of the pores.
“Well, we will have to wait and see…” she replies to the heavens. She thinks about her daughter’s statement and whispers “if only….”