A collection of short stories of varying sub-genres.
Part I: Wilted Roses contains romantic short stories
Part II: Fairy Dust & Starlight is where you'll find fantastic and paranormal stories
Part III: Black Hearts is the place for my dark fic...
This is the translated and slightly edited version of a story I originally wrote in German back in 2009, I think.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
In the rain
There she was. Standing in the night. A lonely figure in the rain, which ran off of her umbrella in drops and fell to the ground where it burst into thousand little droplets.
I had found her.
Thank God.
The gravel crunched underneath by boots as I made my way towards her in my bright yellow raincoat. Her back was turned to me and she looked ahead, yet I couldn't tell what she was looking at.
I was only five more feet away from her when I finally stopped. But she didn't move, I guess she hadn't even noticed me, hadn't heard my crunching footsteps through the pestering rain.
"Chloe," I said, loud and clear, my voice breaking through the constant dribbling of rain and reaching her mind, however that might look like right now.
Finally she noticed me and turned around, looking at me with big sad eyes, her cheeks stained black from her mascara.
"What are you doing here?" she asked almost inaudibly.
"I'm taking you back home," I said and took half a step towards her. But she backed away from me like a timid animal.
"I don't want to." She took another step away from me. "I just want to be alone."
"Why are you here anyway?" I asked instead, hoping to get her talking. "There's nothing here, just some hedges and a lot of trees, completely overgrown." I furrowed my brows and turned my head left and right.
She looked off into the distance again.
"This used to be a beautiful park," she said, even lower than before. "He designed it." It seemed like she wanted to say more, but I heard her voice break even through all the dripping and dropping of the rain.
"Chloe," I called again in a tone that was both concerned and compassionate. "Why are you doing this to yourself?"
"What exactly am I doing to myself, Andrew?" She turned around. Her gaze was weak, empty and her voice sounded tired and hoarse from crying. I could barely look at her, it was just too painful to see her so... broken.
"You're beating yourself up. You're mourning a guy, who ignored you. All these years, he didn't even write you a letter, he never came to visit you, or even called. But you're crying for him?"
She shook her head slowly while I was speaking, as if to convince herself that what I was saying wasn't the truth.
"I loved him," she whispered. "Am I not supposed to cry when he dies?"
Tears were welling up in her brown eyes again.
The sight of her caused a piercing pain in my chest. I just wanted to embrace her and hold her, but she wouldn't let me, she would just withdraw or run away once more.
