Short Stories

== A Path, a Basket, and a Creature ==
===== (So this is the first short story I ever wrote. It's supposed to be a Red Riding Hood retelling. I hope you enjoy it) =====
“Don’t forget to stay on the path!” Mrs. Forest called as Clara ran out the door with a basket full of pastries on her arm. Clara didn’t bother to respond. Instead she started skipping out of her family’s yard and toward the path that led to the village. 
It was a warm spring morning and the birds were singing as Clara made her way down the path through the woods. Every time Clara saw something that caught her eye she would stop skipping and start to walk to it, then she would remember her mother’s warning and continue down the path. 
But soon enough all of her mother’s warnings and wisdom flew out the window when Clara spotted a small clearing to the right of the path filled with wildflowers. The clearing reminded her of a place where her family would sometimes picnic and she couldn’t help but go over to it and plop down in the middle of the flowers.
She set down her basket and started to make a flower chain, entirely forgetting the reason she was on the path. Every now and then a curious rabbit or bird would investigate the intrusion of a nine year old girl, then decide that the girl could stay. As she worked, Clara hummed a lullaby that her mother had taught her and before she knew it, she had made a long chain from the flowers. 
Clara stood up and admired her work. As she was just leaning down to pick up her basket she felt a tug on the flower chain. She looked up and jumped back when she saw what had tugged the chain. A male deer with large antlers was chewing on the end of her flower chain.
With her basket in hand, Clara slowly backed away from the deer and once she was back on the path, she ran away as fast as she could.
After a while she glanced back to see if the deer had followed her. When it hadn’t, she dared to slow down to a brisk walk. “I will never leave the path again.” Clara said to herself. “I see what Mother means when she says that leaving the path will only end in trouble.”
She shortly broke her promise to herself though. She caught sight of a butterfly fluttering through the woods and wanted to get a better look, so off the path she went to chase the butterfly. It wasn’t long before she was hopelessly lost in the woods. Clara sat down on a rock to rest from chasing the butterfly and to get her bearings. She looked around her and found that where she was was very dark and frightening. The trees were close together and barely any light reached the forest floor.  And it was also starting to get dark.
“If only I had stayed on the path like Mother told me to.” Clara said to the forest. “Then I wouldn’t be here, lost.” She began to cry. Maybe some food would make me feel better. She thought after she was done crying. Clara opened the basket and pulled out a bread roll. “I forget who these were for, but I hope they didn’t need them.” She said, then took a bite out of the roll. After she had finished the roll she devoured the rest of the pastries in the basket. 
Once she was done eating, Clara lay down to take a short nap, since she was so tired from the running and chasing and skipping.
When she woke up, it was very dark and the forest was scarier than ever. There was almost no light and the shadows fought to capture the little frightened girl in the forest. Clara stood up and slowly spun around in a circle to take in her surroundings. She picked a direction and started slowly walking, jumping at the slightest noise. More than once she ran into a tree or stumbled over a root or rock. But each time she would get back up and keep going.
I have to get somewhere eventually, Clara thought, and when I do, I can ask someone how to get back home. That thought satisfied her so she started skipping a little bit. After she tripped on a root though, she stopped and went back to walking.
Suddenly a twig snapped somewhere to Clara’s left. Clara froze. Now that she wasn’t moving she could hear ragged breathing and when she looked in the direction of the noise, two red eyes were looking back at her.
Clara screamed and ran, with her basket somehow still in her hand. The creature chased after her, darting through the trees and gaining ground. Clara ran faster. So did the creature. Just as the creature was about to catch her Clara spotted lights ahead of her and ran faster than she ever thought she could toward them. The creature, meanwhile, had also seen the lights, but instead of continuing the chase it shrank back in fear from the light and returned to where it came from.
Clara, not realizing that the creature was gone, kept running. She ran until she reached the source of the lights: the village at the end of the path her mother had sent her on. And then she collapsed from exhaustion and fright right in the middle of the path.
When she finally got up again, the sky was starting to get brighter and she could see the sun rising above the horizon. With her basket in hand, she went into the village and weaved her way between houses until she got to the one she was looking for.
The house belonged to one of her friends from school. Her mother had sent her with a basket of pastries for Clara’s friend because the friend was sick, Clara now remembered. So she set the empty and more than slightly beaten basket on the front porch and returned home, staying on the path this time.
As she skipped home she said to herself, “I guess Mother was right. The path is there to keep me safe, and if I don’t follow Mother’s commands, I might get hurt. From now on, I will not leave the path, even if there is something interesting because I know that it can only end poorly.” Although, only time would tell how long she kept that promise.
== Out of the Dark ==
December 26, 1995, Age 7
Dear diary,
Mother died today. I wish I had gone with her.
January 23, 1996, Age 8
Dear diary,
I haven’t spoken a word in almost a month because I know if I do that I’ll just cry. I’m tired of crying and this pain, but I don’t know how to make it go away. And Father is always sad too. He never plays and jokes with me anymore. I just wish Mother were here. She would fix it all. She would make Father happy again and I wouldn’t have to cry anymore. I wish she were here so bad it hurts. I’m tired of wishing. I’m tired of life. It just drags on and on and won’t stop. I barely make it through school every day and every night I cry myself to sleep. And I don’t have anyone to comfort me when I’m sad anymore like Mother always would do. Why did she have to die? Why couldn’t she just get better? I just don’t understand anything anymore!
November 2, 1998, Age 10
Dear diary,
My best friend, Susan, died yesterday. She passed away peacefully in her sleep. And I didn’t get to say goodbye. I miss her so much. Her funeral is going to be in two days and I am going to speak at it. Here is what I am going to say: 
About three years ago my mother died. I was heartbroken and lost. My grades went down and I spent most of my time in my room, alone. I never spoke and my tears were my only company. I was breaking from the inside out.
That’s when I met Susan Shepard. I was sitting outside, too depressed to pay attention to anything. Then I heard a voice speak to me. “Naomi, that’s your name, right?” I looked up and saw an old woman looking at me. I didn’t answer, I just looked at her. Then she spoke again in such a concerned voice that it brought tears to my eyes, “Are you alright, Child?” I didn’t say anything. I didn’t think I could without crying anymore. “Do you want to tell me about it?” There was something about her voice that reminded me of my mother and made me want to tell her. I nodded. The woman came and sat down next to me and just sat there, quietly. I broke down. All those tears I had been hiding from others came, and I let them. “It’s all right. You can tell me what’s wrong.” “She’s gone,” I choked out between the tears. “You mean your mother?” She asked. I nodded, tears streaming down my face. “I know. I’m sorry. She was a great woman. Did you know that she’s watching over you right now?” I look up. “She is?” “Yes, she’s in heaven right now watching over you. And I’m sure she’s very proud of you,” the woman answered. “Really? She’s proud of me?” 
For the first time in a month I didn’t feel like I was suffocating in my emotions. Those four words sparked a flame of hope in me where it had been cold before. “Yes, and she’s waiting for the day when you go to be with her.” The woman said, smiling. “How do I get there?” I asked. “Here,” she placed a book in my lap. A book that forever changed my life. “Read this. It’ll tell you how to get there.” She flipped through it until she came close to the end. “Start in Matthew and read from there. If you have any questions, come to me.” 
So I read it. All that time that I had spent doing nothing, I read instead. It was wonderful. The book told stories of miracles and sacrifice; of love and grace and healing. It said just what I needed when I needed it. And I spent a lot of time with the woman, Susan, talking about it. She knew a lot and answered any questions I had. She was like a second mother, ready to give me anything I needed from comforting to a treat. I still felt the pain and sorrow of the loss of my mother but day by day, it became more bearable. There were still days that I hid in my room and didn’t talk to anyone, but it wasn’t everyday anymore. 
Susan helped pull me out of the dark and brought me into the light. She showed the love and peace that God gives. She gave me the love and care of a mother that I had longed for after my mother’s death. She is always going to have a special place in my heart, right next to where my mother is.
November 4, 1998, Age 10
Dear diary,
Susan’s funeral was beautiful. A few people cried at my story and I recited Susan’s favorite Bible verse. Isaiah 41:10, “fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.” And we sang Amazing Grace. Even Father didn’t look quite as sad as he usually does, which is truly a miracle.
I’m going to miss Susan, but I think I’m going to be okay. She helped me much more than she could ever imagine. She brought me to the One who can heal me of the pain and sorrow of the loss of a loved one. And now I know that I’ll see her and Mother again. I know that she’s happy where she is and that she is looking down on me, waiting for the day when I’ll join her and Mother. And I gave Father the Bible that Susan gave me. He reads it every night by the fire. And last night I saw him smile for the first time in three years. We’re both being healed, slowly but surely, by God’s love.