A collection of short stories

A Task Filled Morning (rewrite)

As this is a rewrite of a piece I already uploaded, I'd be open to knowing which version you like better. 

That's all... enjoy!

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     She wakes up. Meticulously pushing the comfortingly-course sheets aside and robotically stretches out of bed; right leg first, left leg second. She grabs her monotone-black and brown glasses off the nightstand, wiping off the ghostly fingerprints, eye boogies, and flecks of red something, on the hem of her long sleeve white nightgown. Putting them on, her iPhone comes into focus, showing it is at 100%, with no notifications. She unplugs her phone, stuffs it into the back pocket of her black pyjama shorts, and opens her bedroom door. She walks out of her bedroom and notices a slight tint of rubbish lingering in the air, trailing from the keyhole, on the door to right, that leads to her parents' bedroom, and into her sinuses.

     She walks down the close quarter's hallway, away from all of the bedrooms, past the quiet stairs, and into the kitchen. She looks past the living room, out the balcony doors, and into the sunrise as it peeks its head above the swimming horizon. Before its loving embrace consumes her, she walks over to the black Keurig that sits in the far corner of the kitchen counter and removes the water container that is on the back of it. She fills the water container in the sink and then puts it back. Reaching up to the mahogany cupboard, she takes out a dark-roast coffee pod and inserts it into the black Keurig.

     She grabs her favourite, red, coffee cup from the same cupboard.

     She places her favourite, red, coffee cup onto the black Keurig.

     She presses the 'large cup of coffee' button on the black Keurig.

     Walking over to the living room, she waits for her coffee to finish brewing. Looking out the balcony doors and into the sunrise, she watches as the water laps along the horizon. Frozen in time, in the middle of the living room, she paints a picture of the red-purple sun touching the light-blue sky and dark-blue ocean in her mind. The beautiful sight paralyzes her and threatens her eyes to fill with emotion. Before the sunrise's maturely feminine beauty enthrals her, the sound of the black Keurig coughing out the last bit of coffee focuses her attention back into the kitchen.

     She walks back into the kitchen, with an almost psychotic joy; she anticipates the bittersweet taste of her freshly brewed coffee stinging her tongue. She grabs her favourite, red, coffee cup off the black Keurig and removes the dark-roast coffee pod from the machine, and throws it into the bin.

     Walking back into the living room, she, again, looks out the balcony doors and into the sunrise. Sooner rather than later, it will take her in as its victim. She contemplates her next move for a second, taking in every detail of her vanilla surroundings with mechanical accuracy, noting a slight shift in the redwood coffee table that sits at her feet. Repositioning the coffee table, precisely thirty degrees, with a whisper-thin touch, she composes herself and then continues out the first set of fingerprint stained glass doors, onto the balcony. As the ocean breeze hushes her untold secrets across her porcelain face, she pulls up a wicker chair from the wicker-glass table. She moves it right in front of the rustic, brown-wood bannister that splitters off in every direction, creating a danger to curious fingers.

     She sets her favourite, red, coffee cup onto the bannister and turns around to go back into the house through a second set of fingerprint stained balcony doors – residing to the right of the first set – and back into her bedroom. Stepping onto the familiar course carpet, she reaches over to her travel bag and pulls out a grey, child-like warm and plush blanket. In the same moment, blistering goosebumps fan across her body as the haunting memory of a time passed courses through her in the form of a sour smell. Ignoring its desperate calls, she drags her blanket behind her, like a person dragging a suitcase full of dictionaries, as she re-emerges through the second set of fingerprint stained balcony doors, and over to her wicker nook that sits in front of a photogenic sunrise.

     Lying the blanket on top of the wicker chair, she cuddles down into its warm embrace, grabbing her favourite, red, coffee cup and taking a sip, relishing in the humane way it burns her tongue, whilst she enjoys the rise of the red-purple sun as it mixes with the newborn, morning sky. Tears prickle at the corner of her eyes, sipping in the sweet sunrise along with her, pleading with her to remember the mistake she made.

     Sat on the porch, drinking her bittersweet dark-roast coffee out of her favourite, red, coffee cup, cuddled up in a child-like warm and plush blanket on a wicker chair. Her sharply monotonous morning slowly fades with the moon, as unheard of empty sadness rises with the sun. 

     Her bluely photogenic moment turns a joyous green as a stark-brown drop of dark-roast coffee trickles down the lip of her favourite red cup and onto her hand, burning her. The emotional pain triggers the, defying, happy remembrance of the stench of her parents decomposing bodies, flowing out of the slight crack in the third set of fingerprint stained, glass, balcony doors, positioned six metres from her, and right of the first and second set. The psychotic joy of unthinkable happenings passes straight through her, leaving no residual emotions to faze her icicle stricken heart.

     The only emotions that have any hold on her now is the joy of a task being complete.