7/31/2019 Micro Fiction - Short Story
1/2
Step 4:
Why dont you guys just walk to dance class today? Lizzies mom
said. Ugh, but
Terry! I whined. No, its fine. We can walk, dont be lazy. Lizzie
interrupted. Yea,
Liv. Itll be fine. But dont forget anything! My mom said. We ran
inside and got our
dance stuff together. I was still wearing my flip flops, T-
shirt and jeans. Without timeto fiddle-faddle and no time to change
we vigorously stuffed our leotards and ballet
shoes into Lizzies backpack. Im the queen of leaving things
behind, I forget my
belongings everywhere. Ive been known for this all of my life.
Apprehensive of
leaving so quickly, I pause in the door step trying to remember
something I know Id
forgotten. Interrupting my train of thought, my mom yells, Liv,
take my cell phone in
case anything happens!(I was 10; 10 year olds didnt have cell
phones back then.)
She runs to me and hands me her cell phone, kisses me on the
cheek and says I love
you. Cmon! Lizzie yells, in her snooty 13 yr old girl sort of
way. I tuck the cell
phone in my back pocket and lock the door behind me. Skip over
to Liz as a joke, and
we were on our way. Voosh! a large city bus flew passed us. It
was so loud it felt
like it hit us. Holy crap Liz said out of breath from the scare.
How crazy would that
be if it hit us? Could you imagine being hit by a bus?! We joked
on about how terrible
and funny that would be. Itd be just like Mean Girls we would
say.
Waiting at the stop light on S 1st and Turtle Creek, Liz had the
lovely idea of putting
her ballet shoes on now, so she doesnt waste time when we got to
class. Me already
knowing this is incredibly damaging towards the poor ole shoe,
I, regrettably, wanted
to do exactly what she was doing, because she was older and
smarter and prettier.
She dug in her bag for hers, May I have mine? She picked hers
out, and kept
digging and digging. Liv, youre so stupid their not in here.
Fudge I said out loud,
while thinking the real F bomb in my head. Maybe Miss Burbank
will have some extra
for you. Cant go back now. We continued walking, Liz, as always,
with an astute
attitude, while I slumped in agony. I knew I was going to be
screwed. Lets cross
here, its a waste of time to go to the stop light. Crossing S 1
st just before rush-hour
is no easy task. Okay, but run to the I yelled. Liz ran, not
listening to me. I
followed. I stopped at the yellow line, as I was going to finish
telling her. But she kept
going. Time had slowed down from this moment on. What is she
doing? I thought to
myself. Liz! No! A car was sharply turning and Lizzie was moving
so slow. The car
was accelerating faster and faster. Lizzie was moving even
slower. I ran. I pushed her
out of the way.
(That part is really lame, if you could help me make it more
climactic thatd beawesome!)
Im gliding. Almost flying. Everything is silent, my head is
empty. My hidden foot is
stuck underneath the moving tire of an old green van. I look up
at the young Hispanic
woman driving, her face is petrified. She shouts to me with an
accent What do I
do!? I tell her calmly to stop, as if I were an angel whispering
it in her ear.
