Authors: Susan Griscom
Brief Interludes |
Susan Griscom |
Amber Glow Books (2012) |
A collection of six short-shorts—perfect for those quick-read moments. Most with twist endings that are sure to surprise you.
A collection of short
stories
with a twist
b
y
Susan Griscom
Amber Glow Books
This book is
a work of fiction. All
names,
characters
and incidents contained in this work are the creation of the author and are meant in no way to represent any persons living or deceased.
This e-book
is licensed
for your personal enjoyment only.
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
Copyright © 201
2
by Susan Griscom
Excerpt from
Whisper Cape
by Regan Walsh c
opyright ©
2011 by Susan Griscom
Excerpt from
Reflections
by Regan Walsh, c
opyright ©
2012 by Susan Griscom
All rig
hts reserved
.
No part of this book
may be
reproduce
d
, distribute
d
, or transmi
t
t
ed in any electronic or printed form
without permission
.
Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials.
Published in the United States
of American
by Amber Glow Books
Edited by
Michelle T. Green
Cover
d
esign
by
Susan Griscom
~~ D
edication
~~
T
o all those who have ever
been loved, ha
ve
loved, lost love, and
are
currently in love.
~~ A
cknowledgement
~~
A special thank you to my husband
;
without you, I would never write anything. You are my rock, my lover, my best friend, and my lifeline.
I am only half a person without you.
Thank you, Pam Ripling
and
Michelle Green
for your helpful suggestions and edits.
You’ve both done an outstanding job of boosting me up whenever I needed it.
The sweet scent of spice and the melody of our song playing caught my attention. Maybe it was the power of his soul.
Maybe.
Now that I look back, I realize it was all three.
G
o to our spot
,
Sweetness.
“
What?
”
Startled out of my skin, I turned toward the familiar voice, dropping the cigarette on the flawless turquoise leather seat next to me.
“
Damn.
”
With a shaky hand, I reached for the brown
-
filtered tip, but missed and brushed the smoldering thing onto the floor. A brief glance in the rearview mirror and I eased onto the soft dirt shoulder and stopped. I threw the gearshift into neutral and frantically reached down to grab my
ciggy
before it burned a hole in the matching plush carpet.
Gran
dad
had kept this car immaculate and would have a coronary if he ever spotted a burn anywhere in the car. Cigarette retrieved, leaving only a small hint of a light brown blemish on the carpet, I turned to examine the backseat.
Too spooked to say anything above a whisper
,
my lips formed his name.
“
Patrick?
”
Of course, no one answered.
Patrick, the love of my life, was dead.
Facing forward, I stubbed the cig
arette
out in the ashtray, placed both hands on the steering
wheel
and studied the empty backseat through the rearview mirror.
I clutched the gold heart pendant hanging from the chain around my neck, a gift from
Patrick last Valentine's Day. I sighed, remembering his presentation. He had wrapped it in a
hastily
written note, promising t
o have the heart engraved soon.
He never got the chance.
“
Patrick, why did you leave me? I begged you not to go, but no, you had to
“
prove yourself
.
”
The guys said you only missed Devil's C
urve by a fraction of an inch.
”
With a strong urge to hold back the tears threatening to spill over my cheeks, I sucked
b
ack a sob. Our lives destroyed by a fraction of an inch.
“
God, Patrick, I hate you for leaving me.
”
The old familiar Chicago tune
,
“
If You Leave Me Now
”
ended. The devastating words
no longer suffused through the car speakers and
the radio fell silent for a few beats.
Don't hate me, Katie. I didn't want to leave you
.
Go to our spot. I'll be waiting for you.
It was official. I was losing my mind.
This can't be real.
“
You're only in my head.
”
With my fingertip, I swiped at the one
escaping tear settling on my cheek.
“
This is crazy.
”
It's okay. I promise.
I put the car into first and eased my way back onto Ventura Boulevard, turning right on Coy Drive
.
I headed south toward Mulholland
;
my
friends at
the
beach
would have to wait.
A few minutes later, I pulled into the turnout and shut off the engine. This was our spot, Lover's Peak, along the h
igh cliffs of Mulholland Drive. Of course, it
was
also known
as Lover's Leap because of
rumors of scorned lovers jumping to their deaths.