Short Story Soup

Popcorn, Cream, Window, Ghost, Doormat

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A/N - I hate having to do this, but since NovelHD has already started to pirate some of my books, here we go. These works are mine. My poor little brain came up with the plots and characters, and I'd really prefer you to not steal them. If you're reading this on a site that is NOT Wattpad then it is most certainly stolen.

Thanks!

Loiosh

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A/N - So this first short story was a 5 would suggestion from @-Atireme- so thanks for these prompts!

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Three weeks! It's been three weeks since I've seen my best friend Skye. Three weeks since I've even heard from her. One day school is over for the summer, and we're getting ready to enjoy ourselves, and the next I get a weird text that she's going to her grandparents until school starts. That made no sense at all. First, Skye hates her grandparents. And second, even if it were true, she would have contacted me after she got there.

Her father isn't the nicest man. Do you know those stories where the dad blames the kid for the death of the mom? Well, this isn't that kind of story, he's just a dick. Her mom did disappear a few years ago, but he was hitting Skye even before that happened. He was the kind of guy that would get caught cheating, and blame the mom for making him, then hit her and Skye whenever he was drunk.

It was so bad that we had secret code words so I could make sure she was all right in case her dad monitored our communication. If she mentioned teddy bears, she was okay, but if she mentioned roller coasters it was bad. If she had her phone taken away or broken, she would use e mails to get a hold of me and let me know what was happening. But ever since the last text, nothing. It didn't even mention teddy bears or roller coasters, so I couldn't tell what was happening!

I told my parents about my fears, but they just brushed it off. I rode my bike to the police and told them too, but there was no missing person's report and when contacted on his phone, her father said she was fine, so they dropped it. Her phone went right to voice mail, and he just claimed she was in trouble and was grounded from the phone.

But I knew better.

It was a warm summer night when I decided I'd had enough of the waiting, and rode my bike over to her house, hiding it in the bushes before walking around their yard. Everything was dark, which wasn't surprising, since they were supposed to be across the country after all.

Next to the house was an old maple tree, which Skye and I had used many times to go to and from her window when she needed to escape for a while. I climbed the well-worn branches, a path memorized from the many times I'd been up and down on similar missions. Leaning on a branch, I cupped my hands and looked through the window into her room.

As expected, there was no sign of her, though the room looked a lot messier than normal. Usually I was the messy one, and Skye was the neat one, but her room looked as though the bed hadn't been made, and some of her books were scattered on the floor. I felt sick, she would have never let her books lay like that, she would have picked them as soon as it happened, she loved every book she owned like they were her children.

I scrambled back down the tree as quick as I could, scraping up my ribs in my haste, and ran to the front door. I lifted the doormat and found the spare key. Not exactly the most secure place to leave it, but Skye's dad wasn't known for his smarts. I quickly unlocked the door and slipped into the darkened interior.