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    25 Short Stories
    25 Short Stories
    25 Short Stories
    Ebook126 pages1 hour

    25 Short Stories

    By Rita Durrett

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    About this ebook

    The stories in this publication vary from sweet and light-hearted reminiscing of life’s journeys to those encompassing the darker side of mankind.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherRita Durrett
    Release dateDec 16, 2018
    ISBN9780463282526
    25 Short Stories
    Author

    Rita Durrett

    Rita Durrett has written four Young Adult and three Women's novels as well as dozens of short stories and novellas. She has published one award-winning Children’s story.Over 40 years in the field of education have given Mrs. Durrett insight and knowledge about teenagers, their inner turmoil, and resilient nature. Her mid-west living and frequent cruise trips to the Caribbean provide the perfect background for suspense, adventure, and romance in her writing.Visit her website at www.ritadurrett.com.

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      Book preview

      25 Short Stories - Rita Durrett

      25

      Short Stories

      Rita Durrett

      This book or parts thereof may not be reproduced in any form, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without prior written permission of the author, copyright owner, and/or publisher of this book, except as provided by United States of American copyright laws.

      Copyright © 2016, 2018, 2019 Short stories was previously published as Shades of Gray and A Time to Wait.

      Editor /Cover/Interior Design: Rita Durrett

      https://www.ritadurrett.com

      This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locals, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

      Acknowledgements

      ‘25 Short Stories’ is dedicated to my friends in the Bartlesville WordWeavers organization. Without their inspiration, reading, editing, and encouraging this anthology would not be possible.

      Table of Contents

      Dance Lessons

      Megan’s Jeans

      Old Blue

      The High Dive

      Neighborhood Watch

      Danger at the Mid-High

      A Family Affair

      The Class Reunion

      Going to Grandmother’s House

      Butterflies

      Cry Baby Bridge

      Independence

      The Nashville Flight

      Coming Home

      A Candle for Anthony

      A Mother’s Love

      Camping Out

      The Jazz Singer

      Anticipated Rewards

      Tears for Acirema

      Looking for Belle Star’s Gold

      The Last Goodbye

      The Steamer Trunk

      Squirrels in the Attic

      Return to Corasias

      Other books by Rita Durrett

      About the author

      Dance Lessons

      My palms are sweating and my hands shaking. Whose idea was this, anyway? Well, in truth, it was my mom's. Take ballroom dancing lessons, she said.

      So here I am, standing outside the door of studio two. All I have to do is walk through the door. It sounds so easy, but it isn't. I know I will be walking into a room filled with experienced dancers, graceful, controlled people who have been practicing a long time. Many have won contests. I don't even know the names of the dance steps.

      I'm sure they are appropriately dressed. What does someone wear to dance lessons? Sweats and a t-shirt, a fancy dress with 5-inch heels? Heck, I don't know. So, I compromised. I put on a dress and medium heels. It's a fun dress. The skirt is a soft fabric. I wore it because I love the way the light purple color contrasts with my dark hair and eyes. It's kind of swishy when I move, and it matches my shoes. It should look fantastic while I'm dancing. Crap, now that I think about it, I'm not sure it's right for practicing. Maybe I should have worn the sweats.

      I have to go in. No, I don't. It isn't too late. I could turn around and go home. I could go back to my empty apartment and all the memories it holds. I could sit on the sofa where we cuddled, watched TV, and talked about our future. I could go into the kitchen where we practiced making gourmet meals and fixed late night peanut butter and cracker snacks. I could climb into the bed where we made love, where I wake each morning with the haunting memory of his final goodbye. No, I can't go back where all those memories await me. I can't go back without making an effort to go forward, and since it's time to move forward with my life; I'm going to open the door and walk in.

      Well, I guess I now know what one should wear to dance lessons and what I have on isn't it. I look at all the curious faces staring back at me. Jeans, shorts, casual dresses and leotards are what people wear to dance classes. I couldn't have made myself stand out more had I planned it. Ok, people, I made a mistake, but you don't have to gawk, I think to myself.

      Hold your head up and smile. Mom always said. That will get you through anything. I'm beginning to doubt mom's wisdom. I'm definitely not feeling the love in this room. I know what they are thinking. What is she doing here? She has two left feet. She'll never learn to dance. She doesn't even know how to dress for dance class.

      Are you here for lessons? A tall, willowy lady asks as she comes toward me in a pink leotard with a filmy skirt over it. A faint scent of lilacs tickles my nose. She seems like a nice lady. She might save me.

      Yes, um, yes, I'm here for lessons. My hands are shaking again, and my feet are acting like they could leave any minute and take me with them.

      I'm not sure exactly what kind of look I am getting from the pink lady, but I'm pretty sure it isn't approval. Come with me. She says. I can tell from the way she says it; she isn't happy I came to her class for lessons. She's probably thinking how little I look like a dancer. I follow her around several couples standing on the dance floor and end up on the other side of the room where folding metal chairs line the wall.

      We have three other new students this evening. You can join them and watch as some of our more experienced dancers demonstrate a few steps. Pink lady abandons me to return to the dance floor...so much for help from the nice lady.

      A couple of guys and another lady are occupying chairs, and as they made the sweats choice, I think they are inwardly laughing at my stupidity. Maybe not, but I'm pretty sure they are. It doesn't matter now. I've made the commitment. I came here to learn to dance, so I'm going to dance. I sit and look at the couples on the floor, pointedly ignoring the other newbies.

      The lady in pink turns on a waltz. Sensuous music fills every corner of the room. We watch for a short time as the dancers effortlessly glide around the floor. It is beautiful to watch, and I'm beginning to think my mom might have been on to something after all.

      Unexpectedly the lady in pink motions for those of us sitting to join the other dancers. I don't move. One of the men and the other lady stand up and ease out on the floor. That leaves two of us, and we both know what that means. I figure he's really embarrassed to be stuck with the only female in the room dressed for church instead of dance. Too bad, my friend, you'll get over it, I think, still not moving. I look at the other couple as they take their place with the experienced dancers.

      Come. We must practice, practice, and practice more. That's the only way you will learn, insists the lady in pink. She is hovering over us, motioning for the two of us to come to the dance floor.

      My attention is drawn back to the lone male. He has moved to stand in front of me, hand extended, a smile on his face. I think that means we're up. We can't get out of this.

      I smile back and take his hand. It's firm, yet gentle. He lets go as I stand and places the now free hand on my back as he guides me to the dance floor. I like the comforting feel.

      Nerves take over and my feet won't move. He puts a hand around my waist and extends the other out to take one of mine in his. We pose in the same position we have seen the others doing. The music faintly begins and builds to a strong beat. He takes a step forward. I'm forced to follow his lead. Another, and then another and...we're dancing! I'm elated. He looks into my eyes, and with a twinkle in his says, This is so easy I could do this for the rest of my life.

      Yes, I think Mom does know what she is talking about, and who says sixty is too late to begin something new?

      Megan's Jeans

      "Mom, I've got to have a new pair of jeans. I can't go to Ashley's birthday party in my worn out pair.

      I thought holes were ‘in’, I said, knowing hers looked sad.

      They've got holes, but not the right kind. My eleven-year-old daughter flopped down next to me at the kitchen table.

      I'm a single mother working for minimum wage. Upon receiving my monthly paycheck, I sat down and paid bills. My money ran out before I ran out of bills, so I pushed a stack to the side waiting for a 'miracle'. There was no way I could buy a pair of jeans.

      "Megan, I really don't have any extra money. We'll see what we can do to decorate

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