Hilltop’s Short Tales Issue 2

In finder times, young Kat walked slummy across the street lanes, hands deep in her pockets, lopping her head to music that only to heard from inside, for her to hear. Eyes looking around the world before, as she kept moving, taking in of any differences of the town there after her and family moved away years back, only for some reason coming back.

 

With given reasons, that only felt half spoken than what should have been given. Yet it was over and done with, less wanting to speak anymore of her family choices, the better.

 

Stopping to a full halt, near a four way street, waiting for cars to drive on before daring to take another step, coming to see a familiar store, just within rock stone kicking distance.

 

Mindful with each step taken, crossing in time before any cars could come zooming by. Kat made it in time, patting her pockets of a reminder that she had what she needed and walked into an old 40’s to mid-50’s style diner.

 

Sliding into a counter spinning chair, a waitress coming up to her not long later, quickly asking for something sweet and such, having soon see the young lady to go off and place the order on the stringed clippers.

 

The light music filled in the spaces of quietness, as few other people enjoyed their lunches.

 

Yet, the lone feeling of a small pair eyes were not hard to miss, turning her head just a bit, seeing a boy glance her way, sitting by her guess, his mother chatting with another lady.

 

Kat soon took notice that boy was looking farther down.

 

In her mind, cursed a bit, picking, quite the hell of all days to wear short, when forgetting something. Without, much thought, turned away bit, having her back to the child, eyes looking anywhere to forget the boy’s eyes.

 

Hearing the small verbs from the boy’s mother, entailing it wasn’t nice to stare at people. Even she too shudder some words of the sight.

 

When the waitress came by again, to another customer, Kat spoke quickly.

 

“Could I make my order to go?”

 

The waitress glanced her way, smiling and nodding, answering when she was done with another.

 

But sadly, the order didn’t come quick enough when the two ladies and boy walked by. Their meal paid and off they were leaving, but lasting long enough for one of the ladies to spare a few words, much without knowing.

 

“The poor dear . . .”

 

Kat again, only turning away, in time for order to finally come. Going quickly through, her pockets, in search of some cash, to pay her meal, and not, given not much of an udder word to the other, person, who handed it to her. Side-stepping, those, blocking the way, rushing out, and with just the faint thuds: as she ran far from the place.

 

If Kat could, change things how they were in the past. She could, but can’t, and only keep going forward, even with a part of her forever lost in the warping world of the past.

 

When: coming to place to rest from running, setting the bag on her lap, opening it for the items inside. Finding the plastic fork taped on top of the white form cover, opening it soon and eating. Wanting nothing, more than, just peace.

 

Weakly glaring at her legs as she did so, eyeing of how one of flesh and the other matching that of toy doll could be the same, but yet be eerily different.

 

Tragedy comes in many forms. This was hers to deal with.

 

The End . . .?