View Full Version : Anon's stories

10-26-11, 01:42 AM
This may be a compilation of stories. Who knows.

I wrote this after my divorce in 2007. I used to go by a lake and think.

Two Strangers

It’s a warm and sunny day. A gentle breeze is blowing from the west. As the wind blows, it pushes the tall grass towards the lake it borders. A duck with her newborns paddle towards the middle of the lake. In the distance, a young man is sitting in a chair about 30 feet from the lake.

I notice that we are the only people here. It appears he is doing something with a notebook and writing instrument, possibly writing. I wondered what he could be writing about.

Something intrigues me about this young man so I slowly get closer to him. I don’t want him to notice this so I pretend to be interested in something else. The closer I get, the clearer his appearance becomes. He is wearing a blue polo shirt, dark blue jeans, and brown sandals. He has sunglasses on with a royal blue hat worn backwards.

I wonder why on a day like this he would be wearing jeans but to each his own. I am now a stones throw away and he glances up at me. I wave and he waves back. I continue walking towards him but at a slower pace. I notice him taking off his sunglasses for a moment, giving me a better look at his face.

I notice sadness in him. I wonder if he has had a bad day or something disturbing has happened in his life. His facial features are proportionate with a pronounced jaw. He puts his sunglasses back on and adjusts them until they feel comfortable. I think he has noticed that I have been looking at him.

However, he appears to be un-phased by me and continues his writing. The closer I get to him I notice gentleness about him. I recognize vulnerability too that is strange for someone his age to let be seen. I would guess he is about 25.

By now, I am no more than 15 feet away and I felt compelled to say “Hi,” so I did.

“Hi, how are you,” he replied.

"Fine,” I said.

And asked how he was.

“Pretty good,” he said.

He put down his pen and notebook indicating he didn’t mind talking to me.

I told him that I like to come to the lake sometimes to relax and even write. I was hoping that by telling him this he would realize why I came over to him.

"Yeah, me too,” he added. “I love to write.”

As the sun was beginning to set on this June evening in *****, **., this person took off his sun glasses and placed them on the top of his head.

I remarked that the sunset was beautiful, and he agreed. I really wanted to ask him what he was writing, but I thought it would be too awkward. So I asked him if he wrote professionally.

“Nah, maybe one day," he said. "I am doing it for enjoyment right now.”

Feeling bold, I asked him what type of writing he liked to do.

“I guess creative,” he said pushing his hand around his forehead.

“Interesting,” I said.

During our short conversation, I noticed some striking similarities between us.

We both had the same colored eyes and body type. Our style of dress was similar too and I held back a smile as I was thinking about this.
It was a cool but strange feeling.

I was shocked when he told me that he was writing about himself and his life.

“Writing helps me understand things.”

I noted a satisfaction in me that this guy felt comfortable talking about himself with a stranger. While thinking this, I laughed out loud at the fact that we didn’t know each others name. He joined me after I explained what I was laughing about.

He had been standing for a while now. He introduced himself.

“My name is Anon,” he said.

“Mine too,” I said.

We both shook hands.

12-21-11, 02:55 AM
The Track Star Meets the Wolf

Miles panted as he dashed through the woods about two hours past midnight. The full moon lit up his wife beater, revealing a large sweat stain in between his shoulder blades. His eyes were wide open and revealed enlarged pupils, searching for where to run.

I can hear him. How am I going to get away?

With each step, the soles of his feet sucked up a leaf, still wet from the previous morning’s rain. The quiet of the 1,000 acre forest night vanished as Miles and the wolf moved throughout the underbrush. The owls ceased their hooting, while they devoured mice. The wind that accompanied the rain had been gone for hours. Trees stood like well-trained soldiers, waiting for the moon to command its bidding.

Miles fiercely sucked in air through his nose, letting it go through his half-opened mouth. He lettered in track at his high school three years in a row. This past spring he placed second in his conference in the 200 meter and forth in the 400 meter.

His dark hair matched the air in front of him, and sweat trickled down the back of his neck. His wife beater looked like he had taken a shower with it on.

What if I can’t get away?

The wolf closed in on the athlete, who felt burning sensations in his thighs. The wolf’s teeth showed as it dashed from side to side, avoiding fallen trees and thorn bushes. Foam dripped down its top incisors to their twins below, dripping onto its gums.

It already killed one kid. I hope I ain’t next.

His stride continued as it had when he realized the wolf was chasing him. Miles’ jeans were soaked at the bottom.

Ouch. F***

His right arm swiped a thorn bush pulling a tooth’s worth of skin off and blood made a bubble on the surface. He grimaced in pain and his pace began to slow, which he knew would allow the wolf to get nearer.

Miles looked ahead and his eyes softened. He cracked a brief smile. An opening in the woods was visible, and he knew the lake was on the other side. The opening was a patch of grass as wide as two highways put together. The moon lit up the field as if it were anticipating a Friday night football game.

He turned around to check the distance between he and the wild canine. His brow furrowed and tears slithered down his cheeks at what he saw. There was a football field’s distance between Miles and the wolf when the chase began. The wolf had cut that distance in half.

He hurdled two fallen oak trees, which sat adjacent two each other, and landed on the grass.

I think I can make it.

The lake’s edge appeared within reach. He wiped his eyes free from the salty tears, which had accumulated and focused on the soft ripple of the lake’s surface.

I can do it.

The wolf leaped over the fallen trees, and its light brown fur showed a white spot on the right side of its body.

I can’t let it bit me.

The pace of Miles’ stride slowed, and despite the nearing lakeshore, he knew he did not have much time left. He looked back at the wolf one more time. It was ten yards away.


The white foam had dried along the edges of the wolf’s mouth. Miles’ heard it breathing for the first time, and he felt his own heart beat increase.

Please let me make it.

His right foot touched the brown sand and kicked it into the air behind him. He shortened his strides, knowing the water’s edge was a few yards away. Lowering his body, not exactly sure of how close he was to the water, Miles lunged towards it leaving three feet of air between him and the sand. The wolf had just reached the sand. Miles extended both arms down towards the water beneath him, and he closed his eyes, readying himself for the water and his safety.

Upon entering the water’s surface, he felt sharp pain in his left calf muscle.

“Miles,” said his mom as she shook her son’s shoulders. “Miles! Wake up!”

“He got me,” he shouted with his eyes closed.

Miles’ eyes opened up to his mom’s worried face. He sat up in his bed and reached his arms out to his mom, who wore a light pink robe with her hair in a ponytail. His wife beater was soaking wet. She put her arms around his back and kissed him on top of his head.

“It’s OK sweetie,” said Miles’ mom. “I’m here.”