A Short Collection of Short Stories

Love You More

One bright, sunny day in the Fall, a man walked down the street of a gorgeous neighborhood. The houses were large and stood tall and prideful. The lawns were a lush green, and the maple trees stood in perfect rows along the outside of the white sidewalk. The leaves were the color of maple syrup and yellow crayons with an occasional splash of green clashing miraculously in the canopy. In response to every breeze the leaves fell, spiraling in fanciful circles until landing gently on the ground. Children rode bikes and ran and roughhoused in yards, while women walked playful dogs and chatted and gossiped. All this the man didn't watch, nor observe, but rather absorbed it like a sponge, accepting it for reality. No one noticed him as he made his way down the street. He didn't know where he was going, nor where he was from. His mind was like a still spring, merely reflecting everything that passed into view.

He walked aimlessly until something caught his eye. A small chip in a brick on the side of a house. He walked up and examined it with mild curiosity, running a finger over the imperfection. Somewhere in the deep recesses of his mind, a memory began to form. The discord of cracking gunfire. He felt the loss of a dozen friendships and the cruel breaking of an important promise. He pulled his hand away from the wall and, just as quickly as it had appeared, the memory vanished. His head began to pulse slightly. He continued with his journey down the street.

The man stopped when a young puppy ran across the street, splashing through a puddle. Children called after it, running with desperate urgency. The man chuckled and glanced down at the puddle. A hardcore, world-weary, war-torn soldier looked back. The sky was brown. Dogs and men howled in the night. A trickle of blood slipped down the soldier's face. The man ripped his eyes away from the puddle, back to the utopian setting around him. His head began to hurt worse. He glanced back cautiously. But the soldier was gone. There was nothing except the perfect blue sky that rippled as the man walked through it.

As the sun sank below the horizon - for it was Fall and the sun set early- the aroma of food began to drift and laughter echoed heartily from the depths of the dining rooms. The houses seemed to be turned inward, focused on the festivities deep in their hearts. Except one. The man looked at the house. Though it stood tall, it seemed sad and bent, as though bearing a great heaviness. The man felt a strange connection to it. His head began to pound harder. He walked inside. There was no light in the house. Except from the dining room which was lit only by a collection of candles that rested in the center. At opposite ends, the table was set. The man sat in a chair. Small sounds echoed from the kitchen. The clanking of dishes and the sweet smell of food that came in spectacular waves. He watched as a beautiful, young woman walked out, gently cradling a plate of food. She sat down at the other end, bowed her head, clasped her hands and prayed. The man felt an aching sadness watching her, but he couldn't remember why. The young woman picked quietly at her food, hardly eating at all. Tears rolled down her face like liquid diamonds that left glittering trails on her cheeks sparkling in the flickering candle light. She looked up and her soft, teary brown eyes reflected the candles as she looked at the man. He smiled, but she looked through him rather than at him. She closed her eyes, mouth in a grimace, and buried her head in her arms sobbing. It was tearing him apart to watch her. Another memory surfaced, and it was haloed in soft candle light.

It was Thanksgiving dinner. The table was set, there was an endless array of food in the kitchen and the air was filled with a smell that could only be described as warm. The young woman was there pulling a turkey from the oven. It was heavy and she struggled with it. As it began to slip from her grasp the young man swooped in and grabbed it with the potholders and helped her lift it to the counter. She smiled.

"Do you think they'll like it?" She asked.

"I think they'll love it," he said, pulling her into an embrace. She laughed and kissed him. He remembered the heartwarming feeling of her hands in his.

"I love you, Max," She whispered.

"I love you more," He whispered back, looking deep into her brown eyes. The doorbell rang, and her family entered the house, spreading a cheerful mood.

The man came back to reality and realized the young woman was gone. The man heard her crying quietly upstairs. He found her in a bedroom flipping through a photo album on the bed. As she cried, tears fell with soft plops on the photo album's sleeves. The man watched her sadly and his head pounded harder, like a hammer on an anvil, and blood began to drip from his temple. Another memory resurfaced.

He was standing by the bed packing a camouflage bag. The young woman was crying sitting where she was before, but her eyes were filled with bitterness and anger.

"But you don't have to go," she said, her voice breaking.

"I do. I won't feel right if I don't" he answered.

"But no one's making you. Why do you feel like you have to?" She said angrily.

"I don't know, I just do. They asked, I said yes, I'm going," he said frustratedly.

"Why didn't you ask me to begin with?" She demanded.

"Because it wasn't your decision to make!" he yelled. The woman turned away, simmering in rage. He immediately felt bad for yelling at her. He walked around and sat next to her.

"Cally, I'm sorry," he said gently. She sniffed.

"I don't want you to go," she cried softly. He sighed and pulled her into a hug. She leaned back against him and he kissed the top of her head.

"It's only a few months," he said. "Just a few months and then I'll be home." She sniffed and looked up at him.

"You promise?" She asked.

"I promise," he answered. "Do you want me to bring you anything?" She smiled.

"Bring me back the heart of the ice dragon who lives on the moon, and an egg from its nest, so I may raise it as a pet," she said playfully.

The man found himself crying bitterly. A dam broke in his mind and it all came pouring back in shattered glimpses. He remembered the battle, and gunfire, and the unimaginable pain in his head, and the darkness, then the soft light. He had to do something. The pain in his head was quickly becoming crippling but he wouldn't give up. Not here, not now. Not after the past he'd shared. He remembered the bag they'd sent back home. He watched the girl who'd loved him so much. He'd broken his first promise. He wouldn't break his second.

Cally woke up in the middle of the night. She wasn't sure what had awoken her. She sat up and turned on the lamp. Light bloomed in the room. She rubbed her eyes, blurry from sleep and looked beside her to where the bed was empty. Always empty. Except this time it wasn't. A box with wrapping paper on it sat waiting. It was large and fairly heavy. She checked the tag and cautiously pulled the wrapping paper off. Inside the box was a moon ornament, except it didn't have a string and was hinged on one side so it could open. Cally turned it this way and that, admiring how the light reflected off its intricately painted craters and its gray surface. Cally opened it. Inside was a heart shaped stone. It was made of quartz but looked like ice and was smooth and cool to the touch. There was also a necklace, which had a hatching baby dragon on it, with white scales and blue eyes that hung from a thin golden chain. A note was nestled beside it.

Dear Cally,

Happy Thanksgiving! The thing I am most grateful for this year is you. It's always you, Cally. So I made sure to get you the heart of the ice dragon that lives on the moon and an egg from its nest, so you could raise it as a pet, and fly it away to your ivory castle and rule over your mystical kingdom. I would've bought you the whole moon, but it wouldn't fit in my suitcase. Anything to make you happy. And yes, I am quite aware of how cheesy this note sounds. Sue me. . . . don't sue me, let's just chalk it up to homesickness.

Love You More,

Max 🖤

Cally pressed the note against her heart, crying and laughing at the same time. She picked up the necklace and put it on. It felt cool against her skin, but it filled her with a warm, soft peace that calmed her raging grief. It put her at ease. All of a sudden, the whirlwind of her mess of a life fell into place and it felt like Max was right there, pulling her into an embrace that was safer than any bunker.

Outside, the man stood, watching the lit window with a big smile on his face. Then he turned and walked back down the road he'd come down and faded into the dark night.