Shadows in the Dark

HUNTER
ENGLAND

Shadows

in the

Dark

A Collection of Stories

This book is for everyone that has
encouraged me to do my best my whole life. It’s for my mother who,
no matter what, always told me what I did was great. It’s for my
brother who always encouraged me to never give up. It’s for my Mema
who always did her best in making me the happiest I could. It’s for
all of my friends who were always there for me. This book is an ode
to everyone in my life that made an impact on me.

Thank you.

Contents

Introduction 4

Coffee? 6

Set the World on Fire 13

Special 39

Introduction

For a gigantic part of my life,
writing was my whole world. Though I hardly finished anything I
started, the amount of things I’ve written is ridiculous. When I
was a kid, all I could think about was publishing my own book. I
would tell myself about how cool it would be to see my name on a
book in a bookstore.

But, sadly, I grew out of writing.
I lost interest in it. These stories of mine hid away somewhere,
never to be read. Thus “Shadows in the Dark” was born.

The whole purpose of this book is
to give my writing and my stories life again. These three tales I
wrote when I was younger deserve to have a purpose. Because, out of
everything I’ve done, I’ve never been more proud of anything than I
am with these stories.

The mere fact
that I sat down and wrote these myself with my own time makes me so
happy. I can gladly tell my friends and family that these stories
are
mine.

For a little
background on when these were written, here you are.
“
Coffee?
” was
written during my sophomore year of high school, while
“
Set the World on Fire”
and “
Special”
were written during my 8
^th
grade
year.

Considering I’m now seventeen
years old in my junior year of high school, clearly these stories
were a thing of the past for me. But when I stumbled upon them one
day, I couldn’t help but reminisce in my good old days.

Now, once you read these, you will
notice that they are fairly dark, one of which being quite dark.
That’s why I chose these stories. They define my style of
storytelling perfectly. I like to keep things dark and interesting
as the story progresses. And you can see that pretty clearly as
soon as you start.

Thank you for taking the time to
acknowledge my writing. I couldn’t appreciate it more.

…
..

Coffee?

The coffee pot started to
make the sound it always does when the delicious liquid it makes
start to flow down into the cup underneath it. The steam it
produced floated up into the air and vanished as if it had never
existed in the first place. I could hear the clock ticking behind
me. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. I counted the seconds as
they turned into minutes, letting time tick on by. I would not
allow myself to question what I am doing. The ticking and the
tocking were my distraction.

The alarm clock in my
husband’s room had started to go off. I heard him groan as he
pressed the snooze button, but went right back to sleep. My son’s
room was quiet as it always was. He woke whenever I decided it was
necessary.

Both of them. Filthy,
degrading, ungrateful men that live off of me. I am a woman. Not a
life support. I have thought of this for a long time. If I were to
chose one of them to rid, which shall it be? For I can not take
both of them. No, no, no. That would make it obvious, in which I
would get caught and have a worse life than I do now. No, it must
be one.

I had it all planned out.
I would brew both cups, then put “the stuff” in one of the two.
Next, I set them out on the table and inform the both of them that
I have made it for them. After that, it is up to them. They decide,
and I do not have to.

After this all takes its
course, one of them shall die. When that happens, I shall hide the
body for a while. Enough time for “the stuff” in the blood to go
away. After that, I drop the body off where someone can find it.
The police come and inform me that they have passed away. I pretend
to care, then go on my way. Nothing can go wrong.

I finally heard my excuse
of a husband get out of bed, his annoying groan echoing through the
halls. The springs of the bed creaked as he hauled himself off of
them and went into the restroom to shower. Within a few seconds
after, the sond of the shower faucet spewing water could be heard.
Half of me wanted him to pick the bad cup.

Hours before this, I had
gotten out of bed to make sure I had planned everything thoroughly.
I had gotten dressed, made sure I had “the stuff”, made sure the
coffee pot was ready to brew, and waited.

Without realizing, I had
finished the second cup of coffee. I turned the pot off and slipped
the packet of “the stuff” out from my pocket. With the slightest of
ease, I opened up the packet and poured it into one of the cups,
watching as the powder dissolved into the hot drink.

I looked back at the clock
and saw that it was seven. Looking back at the cups, I picked them
up and walked out of the kitchen, setting them down as I did so. As
I walked down the hall to my son’s room, I heard the shower stop
running and my husband coughing. It was getting closer.

Opening the door to the
room, my son’s in-and-out breaths could be heard. I turned on his
light, letting the light fill the room. He slowly opened his eyes
and groaned as he looked at me.

“
Time for school,” I said.
He looked up at me standing at the door and groaned once more,
going back to sleep. “Come on. You don’t want to be
late.”

“
Shut up and give me a
minute!” he yelled back. I walked out from the doorway and scoffed.
Half of me wanted him to pick the bad cup.

I walked out from the
doorway and knocked on the bathroom door.

“
What is it?” my husband
said.

“
Are you almost done in
there?” I asked, eager for the time to come. He didn’t answer, but
I didn’t care. I only turned back towards the kitchen and saw the
two cups sitting there on the table, mocking me as they knew I was
eager for the time to come. By this time, I had already forgotten
which cup was which.

At this time, I had
nothing better to do than to wait. I walked over into the living
room and sat down on the couch, staring at the blank TV screen that
sat in front of me. In it, I saw my reflection.

I got a good look at
myself. A woman in her mid 40’s. Unhappy. Angry. Eager. In the
years of my life, I had changed from a happy and independent woman
to this. Still independent. But most definitely not happy. But
today would change that.

I saw the smallest of
smirks form from my mouth as the thought of that drilled even
harder into my head. Today is the day that all changes.

Whichever one that dies,
it will cause the other to wallow in sorrow. And with that, it will
cause them to see how much they really need me. Thus, making them
treat me better.

The smirk on my mouth grew
more.

Within a few minutes of
sitting on the couch, my son had decided to finally walk out of his
room and into the kitchen. I watched as his reflection on the TV
revealed everything. He walked around in the kitchen, trying to
figure out what he wanted to do. Get food or something to drink?
And with one quick glance, he noticed the coffee on the kitchen
table.

“
I made you and your father
some coffee,” I said suddenly. His reflection looked at me, then
back at the cups of coffee. As he stepped over to grab a cup, I
looked away and stood up. I did not want to see which cup he had
grabbed.

I heard him take a sip of
the drink, and I smirked once more.

It had begun.

I walked down the hallway
and knocked on the bathroom door again.

“
Damn it, woman!
What?”

“
Are you almost done in
there?” I heard him sigh in frustration.

“
I’ll be done when I’m
done!”

“
Yes or no.”

“
What did I
just-”

“
YES OR NO?” I said with
some anger and annoyance. There was a silence from within the
bathroom as if I had caught him by surprise.

“
Yes,” he said after a few
seconds. I said thank you and walked into my bedroom. I still did
not want to see which cup my son had grabbed.

As I stepped into the
room, the first thing I saw was the pictures on the shelf. They
were pictures from our wedding. They were just a bunch of
lies.

The first one was when we
were at the chapel, standing in front of it as we smiled for the
picture. That was a time when the smiles were real. But they
weren’t real for long.

It was during the
honeymoon (the third picture after the wedding) that he had beaten
me. He made me swear that I wouldn’t say anything. I had to hide
the bruises for a while. That was when the smiles had become
lies.

Before the honeymoon, we
had a romantic drive towards our cabin (the second picture). At
that moment, I thought he was the one. He seemed like a nice and
normal man that loved me. But soon after that, I learned I was
wrong right from the start.

Up until our marriage, he
had just been pretending. Pretending to love me just so I would
marry him. Once that happened, we lived on a pile of lies. I had
married a mad man without realizing.

And that can drive you
mad, too.

My husband walked out from
the bathroom and into the kitchen.

“
Mom made us coffee,” I
heard my son say. Without a word of response, “the love of my life”
had picked up the remaining cup and walked out of the door with it.
No goodbye or anything. Just the way I wanted it.

Since both cups had been
taken, I was allowed to walk back into the kitchen. Which is
exactly what I did.

My son was leaning on the
kitchen counter, drinking his cup.

“
Does it
taste okay?” I asked. Just like his father, he did not respond with
words. He only shrugged his shoulders with annoyance. I stood there
and waited until he finished and set the cup in the sink with a
loud
clank
.

“
Are we going to go?” he
asked with frustration, wanting to get to school. The sudden
realization that this could be the last time I see him hit me.
Well… the last time I see him alive.

“
Of course, dear!” I said.
He looked at me confused as if I had never done such a thing
before. And he’d be right. But like I said.

This could be the last
time I see him.

I grabbed my keys off of
the key rack above the sink and walked right past him and out the
door. He followed and shut the door behind me.

The time between me
walking out the door and the two of us getting in the car was
silent. Just as I had expected it to be. When he had put his
seatbelt on as I started the car, I decided to have a little fun
with him.

“
So what are you going to
do at school today?” I asked, purposely trying to annoy
him.