Regina Greathouse
Stories (8/0)
The Package
It was just like any other Sunday, peaceful and quiet. William had just settled down so he could watch the big game. Before he could turn the TV on, a knock on the door startled him. He wondered who it could be because the wife and kids were out of town. He opened the door to find no one there, nothing but a package on the front porch. At first, he thought his wife ordered something but there was no name, no address, just a package wrapped in brown paper. He looked down the street to see if there was a car leaving or person walking who might have dropped it off. He decided to call his wife to see if she was expecting something, but his call went to voicemail. Hesitant to bring the package inside the house, he placed it in the garage until his wife called back. This was all weird and he scratched his head as he walked back in the house. “Let me chill and watch the game”, he thought to himself as he turned on the TV. He was just in time; they had just started the first quarter. Suddenly, his cell phone rang. Assuming it was his wife, he answered only to hear static on the other end. He was about to tell his wife that he couldn’t hear her until he looked down and saw the call came from an unknown number. Brushing it off, he hung up the phone. The phone rang again and this time, there was dead air on the other end. Annoyed, he hung up again. Suddenly, both his cell phone and the house phone rang, his wife’s number showing on the cell and an unknown number on the house phone’s caller ID. Picking up his wife’s call, he asked her if she tried to call earlier, in which she said no. He asked her if she was expecting a package, and she said no. She asked him what was wrong, and he said he would call her later. Answering the house phone, William’s hands trembled as a deep, raspy voice on the other end asked, “Did you open it?” William shakily responded, “Open what?” The voice responded, “The package.” In a panicked voice, William asked, “What’s in it, who is this?” The caller laughed evilly and hung up. William dialed *69 to get the number of the caller, but it was unavailable. Rushing to the garage, he thought about what to do with the package. He could open it, but he really didn’t want to. He could just throw it away but what if the person who dropped it off was watching the house. How did they get his phone number? Was it somebody he knew? What was in the package? William walked outside of the garage observing everything. He watched as neighbors walked their dogs, cut their grass wondering if they could be the culprit. He began to think about the safety of his family and realized he needed to get rid of this package. He was going to the police. Grabbing his keys, he carefully placed the package in a metal toolbox and placed it on the floor of his car. His cell phone rang, and it was his wife again. William decided not to answer, he didn’t want to worry her with what was going on. He didn’t even know what was going on. Driving down the street, all he could think about what was in the package. As he entered into the busy intersection, his cell phone rang again, and William saw it said unknown. William pressed answer and said nothing. The raspy voice on the other end laughed, then finally said, “I see you and I know where you’re headed. Not a good idea.” Choked up, William responded, “If you tell me what’s in the package, I won’t go to the police.” The raspy voice said. “Pull over to the side.” William looked back wondering who was following him. Once again, the raspy voice said, “Pull over and open the package.” Veering over, William finally pulled over to the side of the road and parked. The raspy voice continued to give him directions. “Take the package out the toolbox”, it said. Reluctantly, William did as he was told. Whoever was on the other line was enjoying this torment. “Don’t worry, it isn’t a bomb. Now, open the package”, the voice said. William ripped the paper from the box, saying a prayer and thinking about his family. Taking a deep breath, he slowly lifted the top of the box……….
By Regina Greathouse3 years ago in Fiction
Bead by Bead
Jewelry, every color, every metal, was on my dresser. I would literally purchase jewelry from everywhere, Paparazzi, Avon, you name it. Hello, my name is Regina and I was addicted to jewelry. Well, sort of still am, just a little. So, it didn’t help that I learned to make my own. My jewelry-making started out as a hobby during a depression phase in my life. It was a mechanism of focusing on something that I could actually control. It was my means of meditating and winding down, not worrying about my troubles, as I was meticulous with the placing of each and every bead. But somehow it became a passion, because I would come up with a design just by looking at beads in the store. Like, those beads and accents can go with that, and vice versa. I would literally spend hours in the bead aisle at Hobby Lobby or Joann’s trying to pair up beads. The crazy thing was I just wanted to make it, not wear it. I find serenity and am in a place of focus when I grab the beading thread, take my scissors, and cut it preparing to bring the design in my head to fruition. I am in a state of Zen, as I turn off the phone, the TV, focusing on the creation at hand. No distractions for me, I am in the process of creating something unique that popped up in my head. Added happiness came when these creations became gifts for others, who were amazed and deeply appreciative. But I never imagined that the fruits of my hobby could turn into something much bigger. My designs were one of a kind, and those who were recipients of my jewelry knew they were getting an original design hand-made with concentration and love. That is when Ver’Evie Jewelry emerged as an idea. A multitude of hand-designed jewelry sets were created through my passion, not being worn, but just created. Why not start a business from my passion? Why not give all women a chance to own a one-of-a-kind design? This hobby grew out of something dark but allowed me to create beautiful things. This hobby was started by just watching a YouTube video. There was a bout of nervousness in pursuing this venture, but when you are given a gift, you must use it. Figuring out what to name my business was a process, going to my dad for suggestions. Then he suggested naming it after my mom. But there were two amazing women who made a great impact in my life. These women in their own way were one-of-a-kind. Ver’Evie Jewelry was named using part of my mother and grandmother’s first names. They were a big part of who I am today and wanted to honor them in some way. I can’t sew like my grandmother; she would always let me try my hand at it. I cannot bake cakes like my mother could, but I was always there next to her trying to learn. Their talents and gifts touched others, made them smile. Those are the memories that sparked Ver’Evie Jewelry. Beautiful, unique creations designed and put together by hand. Although, Ver’Evie Jewelry is just starting out and is small, my designs are my passion. Sometimes I look at what I made and redo them, so they are perfect. I am in amazement sometimes that I actually made some of those designs, no plan, no sketchbook, just my imagination. Being given a gift to make something is not always about profit, but something that could possibly brighten someone’s day, make them feel beautiful.
By Regina Greathouse3 years ago in Humans
I AM SHE, SHE IS ME
It has been almost 21 years since my mom passed and although life goes on, it still feels unreal. Grief holds no expiration date, but in spite of my tears, I hold fast to what my mom instilled within me. I hold fast to the memories of her that help make me the woman I am today. My mother wasn’t perfect, but she was there for me. Truth be told, my mother dealt with so many demons in the form of insecurities. Many of the lessons that I could have learned at an early age, I was shielded from. I had to learn most of them from my own experiences. However, I know my mom loved me dearly and I miss her every day. However, my mom taught me a lesson in strength because there was so much in her childhood that she dealt with. She had to deal with the loss of a parent, and she had to give up so much to help take care of her siblings. There was so much she didn’t tell me. Yet, she kept a smile on her face to keep a smile on my face. That takes strength and that is something I have learned. Life is not perfect, but strength built on faith will help you to persevere. But even in her strength, she taught me that it is okay to not be okay. This is something that I learned on my own because she held so much in. She endured a lot of disappointments and loss, but she never broke down. She suffered multiple miscarriages, one before I was born and two before my little brother. Maybe she thought she had to keep it together, fake it to make it, and I thought I had to do the same after she died. I thought I had to be strong for my brother, my dad, that I didn’t take the time to grieve. Breaking down can be a means of healing, of letting things go. I wish she had known that she could have cried those tears she thought were meaningless. She deserved to let it go because she gave of herself so much. My mother taught me to stand up for myself. Although, she, herself learned this later in life, she and my father instilled it into me. You must never be afraid to stand up and speak out. Although my mom rarely spoke up when it came to herself, she would speak up when it came to her children. I have no children, but when it comes to those I love and my self-respect, I speak up boldly. My mother became a mom at a young age and many of the goals she had were set on the backburner. She did not get to achieve some goals. One major lesson that I learned from her memory and one that my father always tells me is to achieve my dreams while I can. I am grateful for her sacrifice. Although, I dealt with some of the same insecurities and disappointments, I knew her struggles and pain, it wasn’t pretty. It is my belief that her lessons came from letting me see her battle those storms. Maybe she wanted me to recognize those things that would test me later on in life, to prepare me. Maybe she knew my strength better than I knew it. Her beauty and grace will always inspire me to love myself, her loving spirit will always remind me to be giving but not gullible. The lessons that I learned from her inspire me to go on with her close to my heart.
By Regina Greathouse3 years ago in Humans
Another Glass of Merlot
Maybe he isn't coming, she thought to herself as she sipped on her glass of Merlot. She wondered why she agreed to this blind date, but her best friend insisted that she meet this man. At least it was something to do, otherwise, she would be sitting at home watching movies and eating cookie dough ice cream. Checking the time, she decided to go to the ladies' room to check her hair and outfit. For someone who had been out the dating game for a minute, she was rocking this little black dress, she thought as she glanced in the mirror. As she left the ladies' room, she walked to the table expecting her date to not be there, giving her a valid excuse to go home and crack open her ice cream. However, the finest man she ever saw was greeting her. She was never at a loss for words, but this man made her forget her name for a minute. All she could mutter was, "Hi". Pulling her chair out, he made sure she sat down. Fine and a gentleman, too good to be true, she thought. She had to get it together, stay on her guard. Truth is, she had met this type before, gentleman in the beginning, but beast in the end. She stopped having high expectations when it came to dating. As they ordered their food, there was something familiar about him, like she had met him before. The conversation was wonderful, he didn't just talk about himself, but he wanted to know about her goals, her dreams. This cannot be real, she thought to herself. In her mind, her insecurities plagued her as her heart knew she deserved to move on from the hurt that resided. Her insecurities labeled this man the same as others who hurt her. He must have read her mind because he grabbed her hand and said, "I'm not him." Snatching her hand away, she look puzzled. He went on to say that he asked her friend to set the date up. Now, she was ready to grab her purse and go, but she wanted to hear this. Whatever he was about to say, he was about to get told, as well as her best friend. He said he saw her and her friend at the café some months ago. He said she was crying and his heart hurt with hers. Even through her tears, he still thought she was beautiful. She remembered that day, the day she gave up on love, rejected by the man who she thought loved her. As he continued talking, she felt tears form and was glad she wore her waterproof mascara. He said no man should make a woman cry, make her feel like less than a queen. He heard her tell her best friend that she was tired of being hurt and was just done. He wanted to talk to her way before now but didn't want to come off as trying to take advantage of her vulnerability. He wanted her to heal. So, when he saw her and her best friend come in the café he owned the other day, he saw a new light in her; her smile mesmerized him. When he got the chance, he pulled her best friend to the side. He told her that her best friend gave him the business letting him know if he did her friend wrong, there would be consequences. She laughed and said, "That's my bestie". He ended by telling her he understood if she wanted to leave. As she called the waiter over, she could see a look of dejection on her date's face. Grabbing her date's hand, she smiled and told the waiter, "Another glass of Merlot, please."
By Regina Greathouse3 years ago in Humans
A Rare Rose
It was a hot summer day; the sun beat down with intensity as the old farmer walked along the dirt road. Even through his straw hat, the sun rays beat down upon his brow. With his tattered handkerchief, he wiped the sweat beads that formed on his forehead. The heat sweltered and his steps started to grow slower, but old farmer trudged on down the road with his mule by his side. As tired as he was, he had to keep going. Dressed in shabby overalls, covered in dust from the dirt road, the old farmer’s appearance drew both attention and laughter from people that passed by in cars. He wasn’t fazed at all. “If only they knew,” as he reminisced on days passed. The old farmer remembered how this stretch of land used to be mostly farms, bountiful with fruits and vegetables, not to mention plenty of animals. This was a time where transportation consisted of horse-drawn buggies and wagons, especially in the small town where he grew up. He was the fourth of seven children, all of whom were gone now, including his parents. Growing up, his father was a sharecropper, his mother a homemaker. A little felt like a lot in those times. No matter how bad things got, his parents made sure there was still food on the table and clothes on their back. Winters used to be harsh, but he remembered how he and his siblings would snuggle up under one of Mama’s hand-made quilt in front of the wood fireplace. As he grew older, he worked side-by-side with his father in the fields, planting seeds and such. He admired how hard his father worked to provide for the family. Interrupting his thoughts was the bray of his old mule. “We can stop for a minute,” he said to the old mule as he pulled out a canteen of water. As he and his mule rested, his mind wondered back to when he met his true love. When he grew of age, he went to school, but he wanted to help the family. As the oldest boy, he would pick up odd jobs, which consisted of working neighbors’ fields and making deliveries for some of the stores in town. One of these deliveries was where she was working as a young maid. When she answered the door, her smile lit his heart up. She chuckled as he stuttered to say “Delivery”. Years later, they married after a grand courtship. She was his world. He always called her his rare rose, because she was like no other. A tear formed in his eye as he thought about his love, now gone. Looking under the brim of his hat, he saw that the sun was setting. “Not much farther now,” he said as he and his mule set off again on their journey. Just as the moon and stars embraced the sky, there was his destination, his wife’s grave. He stared at the headstone, holding back tears. But he smiled as he began to think about her smile, laugh, everything that he loved and missed about her. He removed the knapsack on his mule’s back, pulling a silk handkerchief from it. Within the handkerchief was a rose gently wrapped. It was no ordinary rose. When the old farmer lost his wife, this rare rose with a plethora of colors grew amid the red roses. When he saw this rose, he knew his wife’s spirit was still there with him. Kneeling, he placed the rose on the grave, caressing the headstone. Looking up to the bright starry sky, he said “Goodbye, my love” and began his journey back home. As he glanced back at the grave, the engraving on the headstone seemed to be illuminated by the bright moon. An engraving which read, my loving wife, the rarest rose shone bright as if his wife’s spirit knew the rose was there. The moon’s beam seemed to be set on the rose laying on the grave. A rose colored with all the dimensions of his never-ending love. A rose that withstood the journey, with not a petal touched or broken. A rare rose for his rare rose.
By Regina Greathouse3 years ago in Families
Valentine's Day...I'm Good
Valentine’s Day…represented by the flowers, candy, teddy bears all in the aisles of stores. The jewelry stores filled with people trying to find that special gift for that special one. Bleh. Now don’t think I’m a hater, because I am not. Believe me, I love the concept of love and what Valentine’s Day represents. But the holiday throws shade on those who are single. A relationship doesn’t necessarily define true love. Sometimes people just settle to say they have someone. Just because someone is single doesn’t make them unlucky in love or incapable of love. Sometimes being single is the best status to have until you are ready for that commitment. I know I am open to true love, but I am single and grown to love it.
By Regina Greathouse3 years ago in Beat
It's Yours Now
"It’s yours now". These words resonated in Cali’s mind as she stared at the little black notebook in her hand. She was shocked when the old woman, frantic and frightened shoved the notebook in her hand. It was like the woman was running from someone, and then gone in a flash. She wondered what was this notebook and why was it hers now? In hindsight, she wished she would have left the notebook somewhere, anywhere instead of keeping it. Her only reaction was to stuff the notebook in her purse and hurry home. As she ran down the alley, it seemed home was a million miles away. Shadows from the street seemed to be following her. “Just keep going,” she told herself as perspiration fell from her brow. Fear began to slow her steps as she approached her apartment. She could feel her heart beating loudly as her sweaty palms and fingers fumbled with her keys to open the door. Finally, opening the door, Cali rushed in and locked the door latch, breathing heavily. Frustrated, she angrily threw her purse on the couch, in which the little black notebook fell out onto the floor. Cali knelt and picked up the notebook. She stared at the notebook tempted to open it. Placing the notebook on the kitchen counter, she told herself that she would not open the notebook, that she would dispose of it immediately. Her mind went back to the old woman, wondering who she was. Cali wondered how the woman got the notebook. She recalled the look in the old woman's eyes when they ran into each other. When she helped the woman up, all Cali could see was fear and desperation. The old woman practically begged Cali to take the notebook. After grabbing some water to cool down, Cali sat down and turned on the TV. To her surprise, the old woman's face was suddenly on the screen. She was reported as missing. Cali could feel her heart racing again. Peering at the black notebook on the counter, she wondered did it have anything to do with the woman's disappearance. She began to wonder was she next. She walked back over to the counter and picked up the notebook, examining it as if its contents would be revealed without her opening it. Her fingers stroked the weathered, black leather cover, but her conscience would not let her turn a page. Placing the notebook back on the counter, she sat down again on the couch, more confused than ever. Interrupting her thoughts, there was a sudden knock on the door. That one knock struck fear in Cali as she crept towards the door. She looked through the peephole but didn't see anybody. Slowly, opening the door, she looked down the hall, but saw no one. As she closed the door, her foot hit something. On the floor, there lay a bulky envelope. Hesitantly, Cali picked up the envelope. Her fingers trembled as she opened the envelope. Enclosed in the envelope was $20,000 in $100 bills. She wondered who left it, then her mind went back to the black notebook. Curiosity and fear fought within her as she wondered what was in this notebook. Cali wondered what the connection between the money and the notebook was, or if there was any. She dropped the envelope with money next to the notebook on the counter and decided she would call the police in the morning. She would let them know about the old woman, the notebook, and the money. Maybe that would put her nerves at ease, squelching her curiosity to open the notebook. As she made up her mind, she saw a slip of paper on the floor. Cali figured it fell out of the envelope. A dark feeling of impending doom fell upon her as she picked up the paper. Chills ran down her spine as she read the words scribbled in black ink. OPEN THE NOTEBOOK.
By Regina Greathouse3 years ago in Horror