Story Snacks

Part 1

No More

The minivan's headlights sliced through the darkness, cutting a path into the future. The rear seats were stowed away and several blankets softened the floor. Jennifer's three children were sound asleep.

At the wheel, she focused on not joining them. Distance mattered most; only when fatigue put their lives in danger would Jennifer give herself a reprieve.

She barely opened a window, the crisp air restoring her to wakefulness. She decided to drive until two o'clock, then take a twenty-minute nap. She would get at least three more hours until Bill woke up and learned they were gone.

"No more," she whispered. This time, they were not just words.

The Bus Ride

(A collection of cliches stitched together into one story.)

Clyde Tilson rubbed his temples, his head pounding like a jackhammer. Years of driving Bus 47 taught him to drown out those riders but today he was subbing for Michael, who called in sick as a dog and blowing chunks. This group was already on his last nerve.

"Can't believe how all bent out of shape Mr. Simmons got because I forgot my homework."

"The sub actually tried to teach! Man, she was all over the map."

"Homework in every class. Don't they know – 'all work and no play'?"

Clyde closed the doors. With his hand on the parking brake, another student slid into view. Clyde re-opened the doors. "Better late than never," he quipped.

The student simply dashed past him and the conversations resumed their assault.

"It's only Wednesday! I can't take another day of this!"

"She hates me. I don't have a prayer in her class."

"Oh! Who cut the cheese?"

"Such negativity," Clyde thought. Don't these students know the best is yet to come?

"No, no bells and whistles. It's just a dirt cheap, bare bones tablet."

"Have you heard their new song? It's bad to the bone."

"Me go out with you? Dream on."

"Ah, to be young and foolish," Clyde thought, as he pulled away from the last stop. He was ready to call it a day and headed towards home and aspirin. Always looking on the bright side, he consoled himself with the idea it was all in a day's work.

Hide and Seek

"ONE! TWO! THREE!"

Kenny called the numbers out loudly and slowly so the other children could hear. Kenny always played fair.

"NINETY-NINE! ONE HUNDRED! READY OR NOT, HERE I COME!"

Kenny spun around and surveyed his backyard. A portion of Jeremy's jacket was visible from behind the doghouse. The bumping sound near the woodpile gave away Christy's location. Michael could be found last; he always hid up in a tree.

Stealthily, Kenny made his way towards Jeremy.

Jeremy, meanwhile, settled in on the floor of his living room with Christy and the other children, and turned on the television set.

Speak Now Or . . .

Seventeen e-mail revisions filled his Drafts folder. The wastebasket was full of crumpled paper. He had switched to handwritten thinking the words would flow more naturally, but they didn't. How long had he liked her? He picked up the phone. Some things needed to be spoken directly from the heart.