Extinguishing the Light


Hamilton Troll meets Pink Light Sprite

Texas Students

Short Stories by Texas Students Vol 1


A collection of award winning short stories written by Texas Sudents. This is Volume 1 with 12 stories. These short stories will take you on a Sci-Fi trip through Western stories and down to the home front. Each giving you a glimpse into American life and thought, while entertaining you. At the end of each story is a simple paragraph that lets the reader get a better understanding about the story they read. Help us raise money for literacy while enjoying a good book.

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My Love Story

S. Davis


  She spoke words embellished with sincere love. I believed that every sound that came from her mouth was a genuine piece of her mind. Every soft whisper that escaped her lips, became a pleasure of mine. Her body lied next to mine on the fluffy white comforter that would remind one of a cloud. The sun was low and the night was near. My head leaned on her chest as she told me her story. My love's story was a short story, but every time she said it the most serene part of me took over my heart and mind.

  I looked at her face and smiled. "What?" She asked with her own curved up lips as she smoothed a lock of my hair behind my ear. "Can you start from the beginning again?" I begged. She nodded and adjusted herself higher onto the pillow[SD1] .

  And so she began once again:

  “Our story revolves around a tiny girl who lives in an enormous apple tree. She was small and alone, and like a squirrel she found a hole in the tree and decided to call the empty space inside, "home." Nobody ever saw the girl, just the bark that surrounded her. Some would see light coming from the hole and they'd know she was still there and they'd assume that she was okay. And she was. She was perfectly okay by herself. She managed to get what she needed to survive on her own. She'd leave her home, when nobody was outside, to retrieve an apple and then went back in to hide as soon as she heard something or someone approach the tree.

  She spent her days watching the clouds drift by. The clouds inspired her. They provoked her imagination and gave her much to think about. She thought thoughts that any child would think. Why is the sky blue? Why are there so many stars at night? But sometimes she'd think deeper than what the average child would. Why am I alone? Why am I a girl? Why am I different from other girls?

  When she became curious about such things she'd hide even deeper into the tree, to where she couldn't see the clouds anymore, nor sunlight. In fact, she hide so deep into the hollow tree she'd reach the ground. She'd lock those thoughts in a trunk near the roots and earthworms and only return when she had to add more into the vault of secrets. 

  Years passed and her visits to the underground were now rare. She had grown older and more mature and with that maturity she found ways to avoid thinking about things with too much thought. She left her home more often and met a few people. She'd visit them, eat with them, laugh with them, but she'd never let them into her home. Though the number of friends she had could be counted with half a hand, she was just so scared that they'd venture off into the basement. So she continued to live alone shielded by the walls of bark.

  One day, while she was picking apples, a girl she had never met came by the tree. She had lavender colored hair and iridescent wings that she used to fly from branch to branch on the apple tree. Our character had never seen anyone so majestic and beautiful. The fairy's graceful presence scared her and she hid behind a leaf, cowering with anxiety. Her palms unexpectedly became sweaty. That vibrant red apple she held slipped through her hands and rammed into the branches below as it tumbled to its death. This caught the fairy's attention. The fairy tiptoed to her. She warmly presented her slender hand. "Come here. It's alright. I won't hurt you."

  The girl stepped out from behind the leaf. She kept her lips sealed and anxiously avoided eye contact. The fairy, however was persistent. She grabbed the girl's hand and looked into her hazel eyes. "What are you doing up here? Do you need help getting down?" asked the fairy, but the girl's mind was elsewhere. She stared into the fairy's eyes. They were a glimmering baby blue like the sky she adored so much. And her hand. Her hand was soft like a kitten's belly. The fairy's voice faded into the girl's thoughts. "Do you have a name?"

  The girl shook her head, "No. I have no name." The fairy tilted her head and suggested, "May I name you?"

  A name? Our character never had a name. She never thought she needed one. "What will you call me?" questioned the girl. The fairy pulled her closer and whispered, “Hazel.”


  The girl, Hazel, gleamed with joy, “I like that. Hazel. I'm Hazel. Who are you?”


  The fairy giggled, “My name is Love.”


  And so, Hazel found Love. Over time, Hazel trusted Love. She let Love into her home and into her heart. She was frightened at first, but eventually she opened up her deepest secrets to Love. Hazel thought Love would leave her. She thought Love couldn't possibly belong with her because of her thoughts and her differences, but Love stayed.


  Not all was well, however. As Love lured Hazel further and further away from the safety of her home, others discovered of Hazel’s secrets. They threw acorns at her and even made fun of her Love, but Love did not care. She reassured Hazel that they'd always be together, despite what the others had to say.


  They worked together to stay together. Hazel held onto Love and kept her safe and in return Love gave her the strength to be who she's always been.


  The end.”


  My eyes grew heavy by the time she neared the end of her story. I wrapped my arm around her waist and listened to the beating of her heart. She yawned and patted my back gently. “Goodnight, my love.” She whispered to me and like a child that has been read a bedtime story, I closed my eyes and fell asleep.


Press Reviews: 

"A Great Collection of Short Stories by Texas Students", Harold Times