a collection of unfinished short stories

southern gothic???

She blew out the cigarette smoke before speaking: "So he's gone. For real this time. He's never coming back. Man, that's crazy, huh?" She picked at her left pinkie nail with the thumb on the same hand.
Cameron was fourteen the first time he ran off, but, eventually, he always came home. For a bit, he stopped. He finished highschool. But then, he left again. And again, and again. He left again, but this time he didn't come home. After a while of him not coming home, everyone just decided he went off somewhere and died. Well, everyone was right. Somewhere in rural Kentucky, his body was found. It was a damn shame, too. He was valedictorian, he was the star athlete. But, as quickly as great things come, they leave. He got older and got stuck in a dead end job. When he turned thirty, he ran off for the final time.
"Yeah," Nora answered holding her hand out, gesturing for the cigarette, "I guess so. But don't worry about it too much, Bon. There's nothing you can do to save him now." She finished nonchalantly, wiggling her fingers still waiting for the other to hand it to her.
"I know, Nor, I know. It's just so hard for me." Bonnie handed the ginger the fading cigarette. Some of the ash dropped on the faded red corvette hood. A single silent tear slid down her cheek. That tear was the predecessor of many, many more.
After puffing on the cigarette, Nora flicked it away, stomped it, and grabbed her best friend's face.
"Bonnie, I know how much you loved him. He was my friend, too. It's not your fault, kid. You couldn't have done anything to prevent his future. He needed to get out of here, and I bet he's so damn glad- wherever he is" she raised her eyebrows, "that he didn't die in Salley, North Carolina." She hugged Bonnie tight and then wiped her tear. Nora usually put up her hard exterior, but she had her moments.