Katie Thompson
Stories (5/0)
Memories
"I remember the stench of the hospital was overpowering. Eye watering cleaning products mingled with warm sickness. And it was the strangest feeling. I knew I was moving because of the changing visual information, but I couldn't feel my body at all. I don't remember getting to the door, or walking into the room. I've heard other people in the bereavement group say that it’s the image of their loved one hooked up to machines with various tubes protruding from them that sticks in their mind, but I honestly don't remember that. Just that smell."
By Katie Thompson3 years ago in Fiction
Surprises
9.30am Jason's coffee was cold. He considered transferring it into a glass over some ice to make it an iced coffee, but the arrival of the package had stirred him up so much that he no longer needed his morning perk up. The package in itself looked unremarkable; shoe box sized, wrapped in paper the same shade of brown as his now defunct coffee, the paper folded and taped at the edges like a gift, his name and address written in black marker on the top. He'd imagined every possible horrible thing that could be occupying the box, from severed fingers to some type of explosive device, whose detonation count-down would be triggered once it was unwrapped, but all he'd managed to conclude was that there was no indication of what might be inside it; he'd have to open it to find out. Any other person would have probably ripped right into the package without thought, excited to see what gift they'd received on their birthday, but even a birthday gift would be suspicious to Jason. He had no family left after his adoptive parents died, he had no old friends from school, and he'd made no new friends in this small town he'd moved to just over a year ago. There was the odd local that he chatted to while out and about, but none of them were friendly enough to have sent him a birthday present, even if they had somehow found out that today was his birthday. He had no partner, and his job as a freelance writer meant that he didn't have work colleagues.
By Katie Thompson3 years ago in Fiction
Gifts
He twiddled a strand of her hair, weaving the licorice coloured silk between his fingers. She looked so peaceful. Crumbs from the slice of chocolate cake still freckled her parted lips. Evil bitch. He left her laying on the bed, and went to work on her gift. They didn't deserve gifts really, the people he took care of, but he always made them one of his bespoke jewelry creations; a chain with their name on. Each design was unique, though, like the individual it was made for. He was nearly finished when the alarm sounded on his phone, reminding him he only had half an hour before he was due to meet his friends at their local pub. He'd have to finish it later.
By Katie Thompson3 years ago in Fiction
Secrets
Twelve years had passed since Fran had last been in the old run-down barn on Gilbert's farm, but time didn't seem to have touched it. Inside and out, it hadn't changed at all. Same damp smell, same chill in the air, same ragged old couch that used to live in Fran's front room before her dad had agreed she could keep it here, so long as Framer Gilbert didn't mind. Of course, he hadn't minded one bit; he never minded anything she and Billy got up to on his old retired farm. They helped him with the few remaining animals living on the land, they ran errands for him as he was too old to be traipsing into town, and they kept him company. In return, he was happy for the two of them to play however and whenever they wanted on his land. This old barn had always been their favourite place. Most of Fran's memories were here. She wondered if that's why it still stood as it always had – un-weathered and unchanged - all the memories it held keeping it alive, but also trapped in the past with them. She and Billy had shared all their secrets in here, from childish dreams to high school crushes. They'd experienced their first taste of alcohol in here, in the form of a cheap bottle of wine pinched from Fran's grandma. They'd got very drunk from very little, and repeatedly promised to always be by each other's side. It was daft, but ever since that night, whenever one of them needed the other, they'd reaffirm that drunken promise together. Fran had broken it, though, twelve years ago. All those happy memories were now sullied with the sadness of lost friendship. Her hand clasped the folded piece of paper in her pocket; her reminder of why their friendship had ended. It was the one secret that neither had shared with the other, but now it needed to be unearthed. The same piece of paper that broke their bond twelve years ago, would today renew it.
By Katie Thompson3 years ago in Fiction
Uprising
Josie gazed at the building that stood ahead of her. Her excitement twitched to get inside and look around, but she kept her feet firm for a little longer, giving her eyes time to take in the beauty of the building. This was her favourite thing about life; finding these fascinating abandoned buildings, exploring their secrets and wondering about what they once were. This one was tall, built with sand colored stones of different shapes and sizes. There was no door left in the door frame, and there were open holes half way up the walls, but the ceiling remained intact. When she'd taken in all she could from the outside, she began the short walk towards the entrance, giddiness dancing in her tummy as she approached the stone steps leading into the building.
By Katie Thompson3 years ago in Fiction