Tag Archives: short story

Opening Pandora: A New Beginning

Trying out a new beginning I wrote last night. What do you guys think?

I was thirteen the first time I tried to kill myself. The knife was very different from the one I currently held. I swiveled the blade, watching more lime juice soak into the maple cutting board.

I placed the freshly sliced fruit into a plastic container, grabbing another victim from the grocer’s box. I wasn’t sure what made me think of that long-ago day. It might have been the song playing over the satellite radio, speakers tumbling out the tinny tune. Could have been the fact that I’d almost severed my thumb, the dull paring knife skidding off the peel and missing my digit by a hair’s breadth.

I dropped another handful of lime garnishes into the container and eyed up my stockpile. I grabbed the box of lemons and extricated a few of the lesser bruised choices, placing them on the counter top. It was probably more likely that today was the second anniversary of my divorce.

I turned over a lemon, neatly clipped off the ends, and cut it into halves, quarters, and then eighths. I scored each section with a horizontal gash, making it easier to wedge onto the top of a glass, then dropped the pieces beside the cut limes.

The first anniversary had landed me in the hospital, a blood alcohol level five times the legal limit. I hadn’t consciously been trying to kill myself. Though, I’d never driven drunk before. The night was a bit of a blur. It involved confronting Ron, a screaming match with his current conquest, several bars, and too many shots to remember. I thought I’d been lonely in my disaster of a marriage. It’s amazing how low you can sink when there’s no distractions, and it’s just you and your thoughts.

That’s where I was eighteen years ago, hiding in that closet, rubbing the switchblade across my wrist. Lost in thought. It wasn’t like I’d had a terrible childhood. I had friends who’d had it much worse. My brain just tended toward the melancholy, and my parents were emotionally unavailable. I’d had all the creature comforts in life, but none of the love and connection to go with them. I was a piece of litter adrift in a bleak, infinite ocean. In my opinion, there hadn’t been much to live for.

I glanced at the flawless, porcelain skin of my forearm. I’d been too terrified to do it, but I had craved the silence that I knew would come with a swift, deep cut. My blood would have flowed with suppressed tears. I’d have finally gotten their attention.

I shook my head. Jesus, that was morose. I finished cutting the lemons and carried both boxes back to the walk-in fridge in the basement. I’d come a long way since my accident, and I wasn’t that sad little girl anymore. I glanced at my watch and took a deep, cleansing breath.

I had five minutes until the doors opened, six until Jake and Adam sat across from me, each seeking solace, a friendly ear, and a pint of Guinness, and thirty seconds or less until Lisa accosted me about last night. I shoved the shroud of memories back into the closet with the rest of my skeletons and found my smile. It was show time.

Italian Delicacy

New Sexy Short by Marissa Campbell
New Sexy Short by Marissa Campbell

Happy Valentine’s Day everyone!

In the spirit of free love and delicious romance, I am giving away a free copy of my sexy short: Italian Delicacy, to anyone who signs up for my author newsletter!

Click on the link in the top right corner of the webpage, and I’ll send you an exclusive copy!

Happy reading! xo

In gratitude,

Marissa

Good-bye

Goodbye: A short, short story by Marissa Campbell
Goodbye: A short, short story by Marissa Campbell

Raindrops glisten and plop, falling off glossy leaves. My boots shuffle, the dirt loose under foot. The shovel rests against a slender sapling in silent vigil. A smooth grey rock, streaked with veins of pink and white, placed with care—a reminder. The peony weeps velvet blossoms. The air is still, heavy with damp. The clouds mourn, mixing with my tears. Plop, plop. I clasp the worn collar in my hands, the leash limp hangs by the back door. Good-bye.

 

 

 

A Distant Bell

A Distant Bell by Marissa Campbell
A Distant Bell by Marissa Campbell

Luggage shuffled along the ground, edges grating on the concrete platform. Couples laughing and talking—a constant hum in the background.

The fog had burned off the land. Only a hazy memory silhouetted the grey shadows of the forest beyond the station.

My palms were moist, and I wiped them again, pretending to smooth down the soft velour of my yellow dress.

I lifted sleepless eyes to the large clock overhead, roman numerals black against a worn circle. The heavy hand moved. A minute closer. I could almost hear the click as it inched nearer to eight.

I gazed down the empty tracks. People clustered near the edge, craning to look. We all waited.

Was that steam ahead? I stood, my heart pounding in my chest, each beat a second of the clock.

Anticipation rose in the air around me.

A distant bell. It’s clang striking my stomach, a deep resonance in my soul.

The bell grew louder. Steam puffed in the air.

He was coming.

This was my response to a writing prompt at a workshop I recently attended … perhaps there’s a story in here somewhere. Who is she? Who is the man she’s waiting for? I may have to finish the tale to find out!

In gratitude,

Marissa xo