Tag Archive | story

The Deep End

I walk beside the shoreline in the early evening, the sun on the verge of setting beneath the horizon. I feel the warmth of the sand and the refreshing wave’s coolness as it glides across my feet. I feel a sense of peace as I am walking on this beach with one of my good friends, Chloe. The beach has an unusual emptiness than what it is like in the afternoon. All of the lifeguards have left. We are on our own.

We search the sand for any pretty seashells, a common tradition we do on our daily summer evening strolls on the beach. We have collected dozens of fascinating seashells over the years. Most of them are broken or chipped; rarely do we have a perfect shell. But we only collect them if they have pretty colors or if they are chipped in a certain way.

“Ooh, look at this one, Reb.”

Chloe picks up a shell for me. I gently take it from her hand and examine it closely, feeling all of the seemingly perfect ridges on the pure beauty of this single broken shell. I hold it close to my heart and make a wish. I hand it back to Chloe and she does the same. Then we put it into our little shoebox for all of our shells that we have gathered.

“Let’s walk a little bit farther,” I say.

Chloe nods, and we are on our way farther down the shoreline.

Along the way we pick up a few more seashells, wishing on them, and moving on. Eventually, Chloe wants to do something else, something more than what we do every day.

“Hey, Rebecca, let’s go in the water,” she says, with a look I have never seen on her, a look of mischief. She grins widely and puts her hands on her hips.

“I don’t think we should, Chlo. Maybe another time when the lifeguards are around or at least when there are some people on the beach,” I say tentatively, wondering what is going on in her mind.

“No, we have to go now! I’ve never been in the water in the evening before, and I want to try it. Let’s go!” she says, grabbing my arm and pulling me toward the ocean.

I have nothing to do but follow behind her; once Chloe has her mind set, you might not want to go and try to change her mind. She is very firm with her decisions once she has made them.

Once we are in the water, Chloe let’s go of my arm and starts jumping in the water, hands in the air.

“Come on, Reb, dance with me!” she yells, splashing me with salty water in a playful way.

Oh, who cares, I think. One week left of summer, anyway. I might as well.

I start dancing along with her, splashing her as the waves crash against us, spinning through the water, falling on top of her as I lose my balance. We are as free as can be. So free, that I am starting to feel adventurous.

“Let’s see how far we can go out,” I say, splashing her with water once more.

“Okay, you first!” she says excitedly.

I dunk my head under the water and swim out, carefree. After a few seconds I pop my head out of the water, a few inches away from where I started.

“Oh yeah?” she asks, and dunks her head under the water. She pops her head up, about a foot away from me.

“Well, since you think you’re so good, watch this,” I say defiantly.

I take a huge breath and disappear under the water. I open my eyes, and all I see is a light green murkiness all around me. I instantly close my eyes back up again, and push myself farther until I cannot breathe anymore. Then, I still kick myself out. I kick and kick and kick. My lungs scream for air, but I ignore them.

Just a little bit farther, I tell myself.

Soon I start to feel dizzy. I am getting warmer, warmer, until I push myself out of the water and look around.

The first thing that pops into my head is,

Where am I?

I look around, searching for Chloe. Finally I see her, waving her arms. Whoa, I think, I went out this far?

It looks like I went out 100 feet!

I try swimming back in, but it seems like I don’t have the strength. I walk across the water, but I lose my balance and I go back under. I come back above the water and I realize I am being pulled backwards out into the ocean. I start to panic.

“Help!” I scream.

Chloe scrambles farther into the water, trying to get me.

“No, stay back! You’ll drown with me!” I scream at her, waving at her to go back.

She gets out of the water and looks like she just saw a ghost.

She starts waving her hands at me and points her fingers at me.

“What? What is it?!” I yell, confused.

I start to feel strange, and I’m cold all over. I also feel a strong pull from behind me.

All of a sudden I have a queasy feeling in my stomach and I don’t want to look behind me. But since I am already drowning, and since my curiosity is getting the better of me, I think, What the heck, it can’t get much worse, right?


I turn around and I see this horrible monster coming for me, sucking in the surrounding water, trying to get me.

I scream the loudest I have ever heard myself scream ever before.

“Help! Help! Chloe, please!” I shriek, trembling terribly all over.

She starts searching frantically in nearby lifeguard stands for who knows what.

She searches one, then two, then goes onto another one.

“Chloe, hello! Giant monster over here! Help!” I scream, trying to get her attention again.

She finally comes out of the stand holding a life-preserver.

Thank God!

She throws it out to me. I try to grab it, but the pulling becomes stronger. I hear a scream as my head goes under the water.

I try pulling myself out of the water, but I get a mouthful of water for my efforts instead. I choke underwater, then suck in more salt water.

I use all of my strength and tug myself up and out of the water just in time to take a deep breath. I go back under and realize that I am coming closer and closer to this monster’s mouth, about to be shred to pieces.

I sigh, and realize that I will not win this fight. I am too weak to even swim just a few feet farther away from the sea monster. I go limp, and let the monster suck me closer and closer to its razor-sharp teeth.

Goodbye, everyone.

I brace myself for the pain, and just as I get sucked into its mouth…

I feel I deep strength inside of me, just one ounce of strength that tells me “don’t give up.” And suddenly, I feel a strong wave of anger jump inside me.

I punch this monster on its face and it gets angry at me, sucking me stronger to get its meal. But I won’t let it.

I swim up to the surface of the water and swim out to the life-preserver. The monster starts swimming towards me at an amazing speed. I frantically grab on to it and Chloe starts pulling me in.

The monster snaps at my legs. I start kicking at it and it snaps me on my foot. Pain shoots up my leg and I realize he bit my right foot.

I look back and as Chloe is pulling me in there is a trail of blood is following me from my foot. The blood makes the monster go faster, wanting its meal.

“Hurry Chloe! He’s catching up!” I yell.

She pulls with all her might, and finally, finally, I am back on the sand. Oh, the warm, beautiful sand.

The monster gives one final defeated growl and swims away.

I look at Chloe and she looks at me. We jump at each other and hug. I squeeze her as hard as I can. We are both crying so hard that I feel I might bust a gut.

“Oh, Rebecca, I was so scared. As soon as I saw you go out that far I knew something bad was going to happen. I just knew. I am so sorry,” she says, hugging me even harder.

“I know. It’s okay. We’re all right now,” I respond, letting go.

I see her tear-stained face and I start crying harder.

“I can see you hurt yourself. Let’s go home and get you fixed up; go to the hospital maybe. They’ll make you feel better,” she says, reassuring me.

We walk home in silence, our arms wrapped around each other.

*   *   *


Post from prompt at Plinky.


Work In Progress – The Notebook Part 2

Hey everyone it’s Kit (again! :)) and I’m going to post Part 2 for The Notebook. Are you excited? I know I’m nervous, but I’m also excited, too! Eeep! So here goes!

Chapter 1

It’s five years later, but something is missing after what happened on The Day. I know I’m not hallucinating, but I wish I were. I can still remember the sirens on The Day that are now permanently etched in my mind. Whenever I think about what happened, I start to cry (even though I try not to). My family has moved onto a different life. Now I live in an orphanage. My family couldn’t cope with me anymore, so they sent me to this place. Mary’s Home For Children. Cheesy, isn’t it?

But who cares anymore? Not me. Not my so-called loving parents. Not Angelina’s cousin, Dylan. Especially not him.

“Melissa, are you there?”

“Ugh, it’s MEL! Not Melissa! I’ve been here for five years, and you still HAVE NOT gotten my name right! When are you people ever going to learn?” I shout.

“Because it is your NAME, Melissa. We want to use your full name; it is the only proper way,” she says. “She” is Mrs. Fratter, one of the maids. Mary’s Home (that’s what the orphans here call it. Not the teachers. Or the maids. Or anyone else who works here. It’s not the “proper” way to call it, they say) is separated into two parts. One is the girls’ part, the other is the boys’ part. There’s also a Mess Hall and a separate school.

“Anyway, before you so rudely interrupted me -you need to learn to control your temper- I wanted to ask you something. Did you eat breakfast yet?”

“No!” I yell back.

“Well stop writing in that notebook and get down to the Mess Hall!”

That’s what they call it. “That notebook”. Sigh. This is the notebook (along with so many others) that has gotten me through all these years without hallucinating and going crazy. I have been writing down all my notes, keeping all the 15-some notebooks Angelina and I made . . . Sigh. Right now I am in my dorm room that me and two other girls share. Their names are Raven and Bridget. They are the worst people you can meet. They try to steal my notebook ALL THE TIME. I’m not kidding. But it’s not as bad as what happened five years ago, I have to admit . . .

“Writing in that notebook again, are we?” Raven says nastily, her small nose scrunching up. (Again, what did I tell you. “That notebook” business!)

“Yeah, didn’t Mrs. Fratter tell you to get your fat butt downstairs?” Bridget sneers.

“Hmm, can’t get up by yourself? Ever hear of a diet plan?” Raven replies.

I get so sick of them that I have to get them back.

“Hey, are there two-year olds in the room? That is so low; commenting on people’s weight. But I just have to expect it from you two. It’s what you were born for, insulting people. I guess that’s why nobody loves you.” I say, pleased with myself and with a smirk on my face.

“Oh, you’re going to regret you said that, Melissa,” Bridget growls.

“Yeah, you better watch your back,” Raven says.

They sashay out of the room, confident of themselves. Yeah, what are you gonna do, cut my hair off? A spy’s appearance doesn’t matter, ha ha.

I run down the stairs to the Mess Hall. What’s today’s breakfast? I look at the “Daily Meal” sign.


Oatmeal w/raisins

Jelly toast


Turkey and cheese

Chicken soup




Red velvet cake

Woohoo. Oatmeal with raisins. Really, it’s gross. Well, at least there’s red velvet cake for dinner.

As I’m eating this stuff they call “food”, Ms. Katy, the chef, comes up to me.

“Melissa, how’s the food?”

Oh, it’s great, Ms. Katy!” I respond with forced enthusiasm.

“Good. I thought there was something off about the oatmeal, but I guess not!” she says.

Yeah actually, EVERYTHING is bad, Ms. Katy, ha ha. First, take out the raisins.

Anyway, when I finish, all the people are ordered to “Get to class!”. Immediately everyone pushes and practically tramples me down, so by the time everyone leaves I’m covered in dust. Ugh. Well, I look at my new schedule for the year, and I find that I have math first.

I don’t feel like going to math (I HATE math!); I feel like searching this place. I haven’t done this in years since The Day.

I go down the hallway, up the stairs, and into my room. I grab all of my spy equipment:

  • My spy wristwatch
  • My notebook
  • Pen
  • Flashlight
  • School Map
  • Sample Bags
  • Fingerprint powder
  • Tweezers
  • A disguise
  • Small mirror
  • Binoculars
  • Hammer
  • Scissors
  • Swiss Army Knife

And finally, I include my backpack to put all this stuff in and put a lock on it.

Hmm, where should I go? I guess the attic would be a good choice, because who would go up there?

I climb up the attic stairs, the Notebook in my back pocket. I finally get to the tall door that seperates me from the attic.

The door is a chocolate brown in color, and the edges are damaged from being opened and closed so many times. I try to open it, but it seems to be stuck. Sigh. I try again. And again. Finally, with a hard nudge, the door opens with a loud creak and I look around quickly to see if anyone’s around. I’m silent for a moment, listening for any footsteps around me. Nope.

I press into the small room and instantly a musty smell hits me in the face and flows through my nose. Ugh, gross. I pull out the Notebook and it instantly opens up to a fresh page for me to write on. I take out my pencil and begin to write.

Attic smells like moth balls and old newspaper. Small in size but overall a cozy sized room. Very humid, almost makes me sweat. Well, what do you know. Boxes, boxes, and more boxes. Some fairly new and some old and frayed. Inside a big cardboard box are some newspapers reviewing the orphanage. All good reviews. I wonder if Mary’s Home ever got a bad review. Think about that.

CREAK CREAK CREAK. I hear big feet stomping up the stairs and enter the attic.

“Who’s in here?!” someone booms.

*        *        *

Okay, that took like an hour to write! Hope you like it! 😉

Work In Progress – The Notebook

Here’s part of my story I’m working on. This is my first time sharing anyone any of my stories, except for Kat. So here goes!


I think we’ve got some spying to do, Mel.”

Of course, I already know this. I feel it in my bones. Besides, I just saw her brat of a cousin sneak upstairs, the ray of the moonlight making his blond hair shine for a moment.

Okay, let’s go.”

We sneak upstairs, trying not to let her cousin, Dylan, hear. Creak, creak, creak. We hear Dylan’s footsteps tiptoe up the stairs, trying not to wake anyone up. I look at my wristwatch, complete with a recording feature, camera feature, and obviously, it can tell time, too. 12:03, the clock reads.

Dylan tiptoes down the hallway, creak, creak, creak, until he reaches the back door, the extra room. In my house, we have two extra rooms, just for guests. However, his room is downstairs, ha ha, so I know his little plan. Let me guess, hmm, first he will look around a bit, since he doesn’t know where It is, he’ll eventually find it and then read it. Oops, sorry, I forgot to tell you what It is. It’s my spy notebook. He got suspicious, and I accidentally whispered Its location when I was quietly talking to myself (and no, I am NOT crazy. Far from it.). I guess he overheard, and now he is looking for It.

Mel. Mel!” she whispers harshly.

What now, Angelina?” I whisper back. Angelina is my BFF, my partner in crime, my… my… oh, well, you get the point.

He found It!” she whisper-screams, as she’s looking through the keyhole.

Oh, no he doesn’t!” I whisper-scream back.

I quickly slam open the door, turn on the light, and scream in Dylan’s face.


Dylan’s face turns pale, while the hand that’s holding The Notebook clutches it harder, and for a moment, he has this look on his face. Fear. Then the look comes off, replaced with a look of determination, and he runs away with The Notebook.

Angelina and I look at each other and scream together,


We race down the hallway, down the stairway, and into the hallway to where his bedroom is.

Hurry, Angelina! He’s going to close the door on us!”

We run harder, faster than we did in our entire lifetime, because The Notebook is something very important. It’s our shell, our cocoon, from the rest of the outside world, a place to put all our spying notes that we collected as a team in. And if I know Dylan from this past week he’s came here, he’s going to do something bad to it, like read it and rip out the pages just to flush them down the toilet, or tell the notes to everyone he meets. The latter seems like the worst choice, and he knows it. That’s why we need to GRAB IT OUT OF HIS GRUBBY TEN YEAR-OLD FINGERS AND GET THE HECK OUT OF THERE, before Angelina’s aunt, uncle and our parents find out.

Stomp, stomp, stomp. That’s what we sound like, a herd of elephants chasing after one another.

He slams the door in our faces and locks it. Ugh. Well, there is only one thing to do, and I’ve got to do it quick.

I open the secret compartment of my watch and take out the key that unlocks every room in the house. I push the key into the door, twist it, and slam open the door.

GIVE IT TO HER!” Angelina screams.

NEVER!” he screams, and tries to scramble under the bed, but he’s too slow, so I catch him first, scramble on top of him, and lock his arms to the ground. All three of us are breathing hard, but I manage to whisper out something in my very creepy voice.

Where’d you hide it, slug-face?”

Why should I tell you?” he spits at me.

Tell her, or I’m going to do something I’ll never regret!” Angelina screams in his face, holding up a pair of scissors. She hands me a pair, too. We raise up our scissors and…

HELP! HELP! HEL-” he gets cut off by my hand covering his mouth. Of course, we would never kill someone purposely (we were just nine!), so we knew we were joking. But Dylan didn’t.

However, before any of us could understand what happened next, it happens. The worst thing that could happen in a spy’s career…

WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” Angelina’s dad screams at us, his face turning a bright purple.

We get caught.

*    *    *

Whew. So there you have it. The prologue of The Notebook. So what do you guys think? I’ll accept all comments. Does it need work? Is it book-worthy?

I’ll post the next part next week. See you then! 🙂