Short Stories By : Tina Dittmar

Mya Jones

Mya Jones sat at her computer desk, typing away. Smiling intensively as she wrote her thirty-sixth chapter. Thunder boomed, three bolts of lightning struck the wet ground just outside of her office window. Into her writing, she didn't seem to notice the weather. Punching the exclamation point key leaning back, smiling with a soundly sigh; pushing herself up from the chair. Pailing her way out of her room, jonting down her spiral stairs and into the kitchen.

Turning the power on, on the coffee pot, Mya steps onto her tip-toes, reaches her self grounded coffee beans. Smiles, eye glimmering, biting her lower lip. She opens the Folgers coffee can; relabeled 'My Mix'. Placing a filter into its compartment then scooping two scoops into it. Mya breathes in deeply, eyes closed drifting in the aroma as her coffee begins to brew. Letting her coffee pot work its magic, she pulls out her chicken breast marinade and cooking utensils. Reaching for her skillet on her knees, in her pan cupboard, the thunder crashes, Mya jumps, banging her head on the upper stripping, flopping on her buttocks. 

"Ouch, Fuck!" Mya growled rubbing the top of her head.

Mya pulled herself up, walked over to the door. Noticing the lightning as it crashed close to her porch. She opened the door stepping out onto the welcome mat. Looking over her boat, it was still there and tied where she put it. She shook her head and smiled, turning to go back in. The wind howled, whistling as it wooshed by her. The door seemed to be pinned shut as the wind swirled, eventually getting a grip on the door, wrestling to get back inside. Distraught clouding her face as she finally made it back into the kitchen.

"That wind is fucking nuts!" Slightly damp, shrugging it off, getting a cup of her coffee, Mya began to fry her marinated chicken, turning the radio on for some tunes.

"Mya, get to higher grounds!" A voice whispered.

"What the hell?" Mya asked herself. "I know I didn't just hear that?!"

"Mya, go higher!" The voice whispered again.

"I'm hearing things, It's the frickin' wind!" Mya laughed at herself.

"Mya, please!" The voice seemed to be frantic and pleading now.

"What, where are you? Who are you? Why are you in my house?" Mya searched her eyes around the room.

"You have to go higher Mya, the storms really bad, you'll die if you don't get higher!" The voice continued pleading.

"Answer me first!" Mya said, folding her arms in front of her.

"I'm Willow Granger, I died here in 1820, my parents left me home alone, to go to a masked event. The storms are really nasty here this time of year, please, I beg of you get to higher ground!" The voice sounded scared.

"Really, nice try, I built this house myself last year! Who are you really, and why the hell you in my house?" Mya spoke annoyed.

"Really, you built this place all by yourself? I don't believe that for a second!" Dedrick popped out from behind the recliner.

"Deed, you suck man!" Carl wailed, smacking Dedrick's shoulder.

"She wasn't buying it anyway!" Dedrick proclaimed. "So, My-ya, what you up to on this creepy night, and seriously you built this place yourself?

"I was making my supper then, relaxing some! What's it to ya?" Mya barked. "Do you realize this is breaking, and entering, I don't know you anyway?"

"So, relax, we just came to hang out, you don't remember us? We graduated together last year!" Dedrick sounding cool. 

"Couldn't you knock like any normal human being?" Mya said in irritation.

"Nope, 'cause, I'm not normal!" Dedrick said snickering as Carl joined in on the laughter.