Christina Holmes
Stories (4/0)
The First Pear
Another mundane day at the office starts. The office fluorescent lights and desktop computers humming with exertion. I should be focusing on the report that is due in two days time but its not happening today. I find myself staring at the water cooler with bits of excitement when one of my co workers would fill their cups. The bubbles were magical and reminded me of a beautiful fish tank. I sigh deeply and turn back to my desk that has a beautiful mural of a fall landscape with an old dilapidated barn house in the background. I begin dreaming of sitting in the middle of this beautiful sight with an all white Adirondack chair. I can smell the fall breeze wet with fall leaves and the promise of snow. I can’t wait to pull out my hoodie and over sized mug, warm some locally produced apple cider, and just enjoy until this scene switches to snow.
By Christina Holmes3 years ago in Fiction
Rage Within
Rage Within I sat back in the old, torn barber shop style chair taking deep breaths. The whir of the tattoo machine reminding me of the pain that was about to begin. I felt the trace paper removed slowly and carefully from my left upper arm area and I close my eyes hoping that will help. The needle makes contact with my skin and my eyes fly open in panic but I know this is only the first thirty seconds of a long 4.5 hour ordeal. The tattoo was standard for anyone who wished to attend college. A bull, about six inches long, its horns up and to the right, its left hoof flexed, its body prepared to wage war. This was required of all attendees and I knew this would be worth it to be able to provide for my sick mother and younger brother.
By Christina Holmes3 years ago in Fiction
Drops of Blood and Sunshine
Drops of Blood and Sunshine It was a perfect 75 degree day with a cool breeze. I had finally decided to take advantage of the small patch of dirt near my door situated in full sunlight. I began digging around to get rid of rocks and debris, throwing them to a shadier area. I went back into my home to retrieve the few small pots of pre-grown marigolds. They were perky, moist, and ready for their new home. I had a bad track record of killing off plants but decided maybe I would have better luck with ones that were already fairly mature. I knelt down on the grass and began the process of gently twisting the potted flower back and forth to dislodge it from its pot. I used my trowel to move the dirt out of the way and hit something sharp. I didn’t have a pair of gardening gloves so I just reached in trying to shake loose whatever I had hit. Turned out it was a bottle that had been buried there and in my excitement I had broken it. I felt the bite of hitting glass and immediately withdrew my hands. I put my hand into my mouth seeing the cut that looked like a smile start to form. “Damn,” I thought, “should have gotten gloves.” I figured I would hurry up and pot this marigold first then run inside and get something to help with the bleeding. A few drops of blood made contact with the bloom and dirt but it wasn’t painful so I dug the plant in opting to leave the bottle in place. It was deep enough down so I didn’t think it was an issue. I go up after making my new golden friend comfortable but what I hadn’t noticed was that the bloom had shuddered a bit. Had I seen that then the next events may not have been such a surprise.
By Christina Holmes3 years ago in Fiction
Bundle of Wonder
I remember the day this strange box showed up on my porch. I had received several other packages from multiple websites that same day. It had been a sad rainy week and I decided to check out a few of my local businesses which my credit card will be feeling the pinch over the next few months. This box was odd looking because there was no return address and when I picked it up it felt light as air. I remembered shaking the box and thinking maybe it was a tiny ring, that I did not recall buying but again I was in a fugue state while purchasing.
By Christina Holmes3 years ago in Fiction