My Unpublished Stories

My Unpublished Stories
I am the happiest when I write. For some mysterious reason, writing is a medium that enables me to be at my best. Words cooperate with me and so ideas that I never knew existed. Today is one such day. I love my haven here, down in the basement. The coral blue walls with buttery soft light emerging from the sconces, adding serenity to my ambiance. Down here, in the seclusion of my old computer, I am at peace. With my boys Daniel and Zack (13 and 11 respectively) in school, I can get more done with my book. When completing the household chores, I anticipate the reluctant hum of the old computer, when turned on. Coming down here is a reward.
The pain on my shoulders is gone too. I told Cameron, my husband, that I did not need chemotherapy. I hated it. Those awful, grueling sessions that reverberate drugs through my being missing the cancer in my bones entirely. And the unexplainable fatigue and exhaustion that follows, depriving me of my running and writing. Yes, I am a runner. I can run miles on the trail behind our home, running through and out of the woods. I could run even after I was diagnosed with the bone cancer last year. Sometimes a deer and its family would run alongside, maintaining a respectful distance, but sharing the air fresh with sprouting berries and blossoms with me. Those would be the strongest moments of inspiration for me. I could picture and materialize a whole new episode for my story. The outdoors to greet the fantastic elements of nature and my indoor zen to write, what more could I ask for from life? Who needs the chemotherapy when I have the will to live? I feel so much at ease now. Lately, the piercing pain in the shoulders would not subdue even after morphine. I had promised Cameron that I would not do morphine unless absolutely necessary, but three days in bed after chemotherapy was all I could take. Three days of no running, no writing. I am so happy, refreshed an better now.
Let me step out for a run. Ah! the fragrance of the Fall never fails to get me going. The burnt orange leaves crunching deliciously under my feet. My heart beating in unison with my feet, down the trail. The cold air sealing my skin and cooling my dreary eyes. A perfect break from the computer. I love running through the shopping complex, watching people unload their groceries into their cars. the florist displaying her latest bunch and the craft store advertising its latest art class. Zack wanted colored paper and Daniel wanted glue for school. I'll come down with the boys later.
My rhythm is steady. I feel I can run forever. I love running in the cold. Runners look immune and at ease in the cold, while others scurry and flutter in and out of their cars and homes. I feel like flying. The collective sound of young children emanating from the day care resonates with my spirit. How about a story of a child in a day care? His parents oblivious to his developmental milestones, until one of them has to call in sick their child. They discover the magic bonding moments and decide to quit their job to be with the young one? Or maybe about an old man relating the enduring tale of his life with his wife, whom he just lost to old age? Hmm, ideas, ideas..
The red brick community center stands like an old faithful pet. It's structure a reliable sight, bustling with seniors and children. Never a dull moment in this building! The cemetery next to it is so colorless, lifeless and silent. It looks even more somber without the green leaves covering its cold ugliness. I think I will turn around for home. I am ready to write.
Its amazing and absolutely unbelievable. I have finally completed my book of short stories. I cannot decide which one is my favorite. Wait a minute, what's this commotion? The boys must be fighting again. " Daniel and Zack, cut it off, will you? And is that the doorbell? Daniel, please get the door,. will you? I am almost done in here. Zack, there are sandwiches in the refrigerator for dinner, please set the table, I've got to finish this tonight"! Bless those boys, what would I do without them? They are my muses, my little imagination stimulators! I must write a story on our family of two little boys. Let me just finish editing my short stories. Yes! I did it. My short story collection should be ready to print.
What's that noise? "Zack, is that you?" Sounds like Zack crying. It must be bed time now. Let me check on the boys. And Cameron, poor Cameron, he works so hard. I'll give him a massage tonight, for a change. The poor guy has worn himself out, watching me through my illness. I'll tell him how great I feel tonight.
The stairs are so creaky. I'll have them fixed over the weekend. The house is so dark. Why isn't the night light on? And the porch light? Men! Trust them to take care of the house. One day, just one day was all I asked. I wonder if they ate any dinner.
Is that Zack crying? " Zacky, baby is that you? Zacky?" He is not in his room. Must be in Daniel's . And Cameron, let me check our room on the way to Daniel's. Oh God! Cameron, did you take these tonight? Tranquilizers again? How many times have we gone through this? You don't need tranquilizers... Look at you, you look like a baby, sleep well my love. I cannot wait to tell you how much better I feel.
Daniel, why is your brother crying? Let me peer through their door and see what they are doing. What's Zacky doing in his room.
" Danny, can I sleep with you tonight? Please, please, I feel scared in my room."
"Okay Zacky, but please use the bathroom before you come into my bed!"
These boys, they never fail to make me smile.
"Daniel, I want to see Mommy, I haven't seen her all day."
"Zacky, some here, give me a hug."
Oh goodness, they look so cute together.
"Don't cry Zack, I will take you to Mommy."
"Will you, Danny?"
"Yep, lets put on our clothes."
What in the world are there boys doing? Where are they going? Let me follow them. Hmm, sneaking out of the house without permission. We'll have to talk about that in the morning. If Cameron wasn't so passed out by the tranquilizers...
Its so cold outside. Where are these boys going? What are they up to? Do they want something from the store? Nope, going straight past the store. Aha! Daniel wants glue and Zack wants colored paper from the craft store. Amusing. Spending allowance on school supplies. No? Where are these boys going, holding hands like that? The community center? Isn't it closed right now? Too late for an indoor soccer. What are these children up to?
Why are they going in there? Didn't we talk about cemeteries the other day? Aren't they scared? "Boys! Boys! Stop! Don't go in there, what's wrong with you both? Why are you not listening to me? What's in the cemetery? Daniel, don't you dare scare your brother, he's already not well..
What's that? What are they looking at? Why are they sitting next to that grave? Whose grave is it anyway?
"Boys, boys...."
Wait a minute, what does the epitaph say?
Zena Cameron
Beloved Wife, Loving Mother
1977 - 2011
"Zack, Mommy's here. Resting. sleeping peacefully. She is not in pain anymore."
"She doesn't need her pills either, Danny?'
"No, come close, its cold. Mom is fine now. She is not sick anymore. She is watching over us all the time. So don't cry. Mom wont like it. She likes brave boys."
" But Danny -
"Shh, just think about Mom and tell her I love you. "
"I love you Mom".
WHAT? That is my grave? When did I die? I cannot be dead. I feel no pain.
Oh my god, I am dead.
Oh my god, I am dead.
Where am I? "Daniel, Zack, I'm right here. Look at me. Where are you going?
Oh no, I am dead. And I did not even know it. All this while, I have been going up and about, as if still living. Oh no, who will take care of my boys? Who will take care of Cameron. Oh my God, what am I still doing here?
What about my work? My stories? I just finished my whole collection of short stories. I hope they find them in the basement. I hope Daniel and Zack read them someday. I hope my work would make them proud.
Here are my unpublished stories...