Tag: short story

Camera, Film Type, Minolta Hi-Matic 7s, Ultra Fine 100, Writing

The Decision //

by liin nurLeave a Comment on The Decision //
Will a simple decision lead to a lifetime of regret or happiness?

It was getting late, later than she had anticipated, and she knew that she needed to make a decision. Would she hold tight to the dream that has kept her going for the past few years or would she let it go in favour of the undefined possibilities that stood ahead of her?

This question nagged at her each day demanding a response and she had talked through the two options with friends and family countless times. Each person offered their own helpful perspective but as well-meaning as that was, it only added to the confusion. Exhausted by the weight of this decision, she would rush to sleep hoping to find rest. But as soon as her head hit the pillow and her eyes closed for the night, her brain would go into overdrive hoping to help her make sense of the confusion.

Last night her dreams took her to the future where she was now well into her 70s with changes in her vision that made it difficult to see things clearly. She could tell that there were many people gathering around her radiating love and joy but couldn’t quite make out their faces. Their voices were also unclear but she felt happiness in this moment even though she couldn’t quite make out the reason for the festivities that brought out this group of people.

“The woman of the hour! I’m so happy that you finally agreed to let us celebrate you!”, said the voice that was approaching her.

She recognized this voice instantly and it made her heart jump. She tried to formulate the words running through her mind into a question but each time she tried, she would lose grasp of the phrasing and the scenery in front of her would change. The next thing she knew, she was in the future again but a closer future. She was in her 40s and was on a flight taking a trip somewhere.

“Will you two be having the special meal you ordered in advance or one of the set meal options?”, the flight attendant in front of her asked. She turned to the seat beside her but it was empty.

“Um, I think we’ll be having the special meal we ordered, if that’s okay with you?”, she asked the flight attendant.

She was met with a response and, testing the waters, she tried to ask who exactly the other person accompanying her on this journey was, but like before, she couldn’t form the question properly and was swept away to the third act in her dream.

This time, she didn’t time travel too far. She was sitting at a coffee shop, holding her London fog between her two hands. The warmth from the drink grounded her and she could tell that she was in desperate need of some grounding. Her heart was racing and an entire family of butterflies was flittering around freely in her stomach. She glanced over at her phone to check the date even though she was pretty certain what day it would be. It was June 26th: D-Day.

All of her dreams would end with her in this exact moment, sitting in front of the person she knew she had to share her decision with. Would she be met with a huge smile, a hug, and a sigh of relief from this other person? Or would she have to sit across from this person, watching their heart break as she shared her decision with them?

In this dream, she had to say something because the time had come. But in reality, this exact moment was still a little over a week away. Sitting here in this moment, she had to resist the urge to beat herself up about how many times she had resisted making a choice and instead defaulted to the excuse that it was “many, many months away!”. What’s happened has happened; there was no point in fighting with the past.

Her heart was conflicted and wasn’t doing her any favours in making this moment any clearer or easier. The truth was she could see herself being content with either decision. What it came down to was how much she was willing to put her trust in the hands of the people around her. She found comfort and joy in the black and white areas of life, the easy yes’s and no’s, and anything in the grey brought her an immense source of frustration. This decision in front of her was one that was firmly in the grey and she hated every moment of it.

She looked up at the person sitting in front of her and made a simple request for a coin. After some slight shuffling and an extra purchase of a small donut to break a $5 bill into some change, she received a 10 cent coin. Without thinking, she flipped the coin and quickly placed her hand over it once it made contact with the table.

“Heads, I stay. Tails, I go. Whatever happens, happens. Is that alright with you?”, she asked her companion.

They gave a slight nod of the head and she gently lifted her hand to reveal the coin. She looked down and was overcome by a huge sense of relief. She would walk fully into this decision – her final decision – and move forward with her life.

Kodak Portra 400, Pentax Espio 70s, Writing

196 Possibilities //

by liin nurLeave a Comment on 196 Possibilities //
196 Possibilities //

I breathe in and open my eyes.

I’m on top of a hill somewhere in the English countryside.

I feel the lush green grass beneath my bare feet and as I look off into the distance, I see the breathtaking view of rolling hills. There is a slight breeze but I can still feel the heat of the sun beating down on me. The heavenly scent of rain on the earth tickles my nose one last time before I return.

I breathe out.

I breathe in and open my eyes.

I am surrounded by the sound of rush hour traffic.

Cars honk up and down the street while pedestrians dash across the sidewalk. As I walk to the side of the intersection, I stop to watch a man strumming on a guitar and singing a song. The tune sounds vaguely familiar which might be why a crowd has formed and people begin humming along. I drop off some change into the guitar case in front of him and turn back to the road. I see bumper to bumper traffic with the yellow cabs distinctive of New York scattered throughout. The sights and sounds of the mid-afternoon summer commute leave me feeling breathless.

I breathe out.

I breathe in and open my eyes.

I reach up over my head and I touch the low hanging leaves of the Amazon.

The humidity hangs in the air and I feel its constant presence on my skin as I walk across the forest floor. I hear the lovely song of a bird up above and as I look up in search of it, I am greeted by a small kinkajou that’s sticking his long tongue at me. We stare at each other for a little bit longer before he scurries off into the forest. I run my hand across a moss covered rock and take in the warmth and beauty of this rainforest.

I breathe out.

I breathe in and open my eyes.

I am suddenly overcome by the rich scents from the spice stalls in Marrakesh.

The powerful smell and breathtaking colours of cumin and paprika excites my senses. My eyes hungrily take in the bright fuchsias, electric blues, and royal purples that surround me. All of a sudden the strong smells, beautiful sights, and hushed conversations amplify and I am swept up by the intensity of it all. I spin and spin and spin. Colours whirl together before my eyes and my ears pick up a mixture of conversations in English, French, and Arabic. I reach out to touch the leather hanging in one of the tanneries and— “Hurry! Sawyer is coming.”

I am called back to the real world by the rushed warning of one of my colleagues. He’s tapping me on the shoulder while straightening his dark blue tie. I rapidly exhale and with a jolt I stand up and start fixing the stacks of paper that litter my desk.

“Good morning.” Sawyer says to us as he makes his way to his office.

I hear my co-worker breathe a sigh of relief before relaxing back into his chair. He swivels his chair around to face me and says, “That was a close one. Next time, will you please give me a warning when you go off into your head?” I thank him for alerting me and settle back into my corner cubicle.

I unlock the cabinet to the right of my desk and rummage around until my fingers locate the piece of paper I was looking for. I pull out the tattered map. I find England, the United States of America, Brazil, and Morocco on the map and mark a huge ‘X’ over these countries. I hold the map at arm’s length and smile as I realize I only have a handful of countries to visit. I do a quick mental count and mark the date and 146/196 on the bottom right hand corner. I place the map back in the cabinet, lock the door and get back to work. My memories of the days travels keeps me going until I leave the office later that night.

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Hi everyone! This concludes my three-part series of short stories. I had fun rediscovering these old shorts I wrote and I hope you enjoyed reading them! If you haven’t already, please make sure to check out the first and second stories of this series, “Table for 2” and Sweet Viola’s Post Office. Now, back to the regularly scheduled programming aka my film photography posts! 

AgfaPhoto Vista 200, Nikon L35AF, Writing

Sweet Viola’s Post Office //

by liin nur1 Comment on Sweet Viola’s Post Office //
Sweet Viola’s Post Office //

The best part of her day was when she was alone with the packages.

After a long day of dealing with unpredictable customers, she could count on the fact that her precious packages were always there, waiting for her. Of course, these weren’t exactly her packages. She knew this, but she couldn’t help but feel responsible for them since she had been there from the beginning of their journey. She was the one who was entrusted with ensuring that these packages made their way safely to their destination. She was also the one that had lovingly prepared them and would look after them until they were ready to go. This was a huge responsibility, and certainly not one that she took lightly.   The packages weren’t the only thing she enjoyed about her job. She loved meeting new people and seeing her regulars, sharing bits of conversation that could only happen between strangers, but there was nothing that could compare to the time she spent with the packages. Long after the last customer had left and the shop had closed, she would go into the back room and take in the glorious sight of packages lining the wall. Big ones, small ones, short ones, tall ones, packages as far as her eyes could see! Her favourite game to play was when she would close her eyes, spin around, and reach out and select a package. With her eyes still closed, she would hold the package tight and feel for any clues.

When she first started to play this game a few years ago, she would try her hardest but could never locate the package’s final destination. But over the years, she’s learned how to use different clues like the size and weight of the package, the grooves on the stamp, and even the texture of the mailer to zero in on where this particular package was heading. She took great pride in how well she could guess but secretly found joy in the times when she was stumped. Like last Tuesday, when she guessed with absolute confidence that the package she was holding in her arms was destined to go to Australia. However, when she opened her eyes, she was shocked to learn that the package wasn’t going to Australia but Austria! She felt silly making that amateur mistake, but she vowed it would be one she would never make again.

Most days, she would play this game until her husband came to pick her up to take her home. But tonight, her husband called to let her know that he would be working late and asked if she would be okay taking a cab home instead. She had to pinch herself to hide her joy and with a solemn voice she said that she would be just fine. As soon as she heard the line on the other side go ‘click’, she dashed to the door and flipped the sign on the entrance from ‘Open’ to ‘Closed’ and dimmed the lights. There was still technically fifteen more minutes left until the shop closed but she couldn’t wait a second longer to begin her favourite part of the day. What surprises would await her, she wondered. Where would she travel to today?

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Hi everyone! I know this is a little out of the ordinary for this blog but I recently unearthed a bunch of old short stories I wrote. After some thought, I decided that I would try posting some of my favourites here as part of a three-part series. I will pair each story with a photo I’ve taken that I think fits best so as to continue the theme of sharing my film photography. 

If you haven’t already, please read the first story of this series, “Table for 2”. 

AgfaPhoto Vista 200, Nikon L35AF, Writing

Table for 2 //

by liin nur2 Comments on Table for 2 //
Table for 2 //

“I thought we’d decided I’ll do six months out of the year, and you’ll have the next six months?” the man whispered harshly at the woman sitting across from him.

They’d been arguing like that for the past 20 minutes. At first when they’d both come into the diner, I had thought they were one of those couples that arranged a babysitter for the kids so that they could have their own date night. It was a Friday night and they certainly fit the part. The woman had medium length hair that fell elegantly past her shoulders onto her emerald green jumpsuit while the man was dressed in a chambray shirt neatly buttoned up. They were probably high-school sweethearts that got married shortly after university and have been living the suburban dream until the man cheated. Or maybe it was the woman. Or they made the mistake of going into business together and one of them ripped the other off. All or any of these were likely but it was obvious this was a tense conversation.

When I first laid eyes on them, I figured that they were both in their early 40s and suspected that they had one or two little children at home, hence the date night. But after I had seated them and taken their order, I watched as they pulled out matching tan folders. Now, watching them from the corner of my eye, I could see how they sat huddled over stacks of paper. Their eyebrows growing closer and closer in frustration as they whispered, getting louder with each passing minute.

“Excuse me?”

The voice had interrupted my thoughts. I drew my eyes back to the table in front of me where I saw an elderly woman in her 70s waving her hands.

“Do you have any cherry vanilla coke?” she asked, just like I knew she would and just like she had on all of her frequent visits to the diner.

“We absolutely do. Would you like me to put some ice in your coke?” I asked, knowing it would buy me some time to return to my new favourite customers. As much as this customer could be annoying, I could always count on being educated about the dangers of contaminated ice cubes in drinks. This would buy me a few minutes.

The man had readjusted his chair again and was now leaning back and raising his hands to the sky in a deep stretch. The woman was on her phone and the conversation between the two of them seemed to pause. Had I been mistaken? Were they engaged in some sort of a business deal? Now that I was looking at them from this angle, the man did look like he could be some sort of lawyer. But just as I thought I had figured this couple out, they were right back into their argument. No, this couldn’t be business. Whatever they were fighting about was definitely personal.

I heard the words ‘Hepatitis A’ and knew that my customer’s rant was drawing to a close.

“Now you need to be careful, otherwise you never know when illness will strike. So please, just the cherry vanilla coke without the ice.”

“Coming right up.” I sighed, as I gathered the extra plates and cutlery from her table and took them back to the kitchen.

I clipped the two order slips to the board above the servery and started to look around for my coworkers. Maybe I could tell them about the man and woman at table number two and we could put whatever we thought was happening to a vote. I went deeper into the kitchen and quickly began to notice that I was the only one there. The kitchen was unnaturally quiet and void of human voices. I could only hear the hum of the appliances and the faint rattling of the back door. Where was everyone?

I looked at my wristwatch and noticed it was quarter past six. The dinner time rush was just getting started and the dining room would soon fill up with hungry customers. With panic slowly making its way up my chest, I reached into my apron pocket, pulled out my phone and dialed the head chef’s phone number. As the dial tone rang, I could hear faint buzzing coming from the right side of the kitchen. I started to make my way towards the sound and with every step, the buzzing got louder. I followed the buzzing and it led me to a closet-sized storage room. Gripping the handle, I turned it to open the door.

Inside the room was not only the missing head chef but the other waiters and kitchen staff as well. A lamp in the corner was the only source of light in the dark, cool room that housed most of the diner’s dry food. In the centre of the room was a makeshift table made out of soup cans and pasta boxes. On this table, was some white substance, carefully arranged into three lines. When my coworkers registered my presence in the room, they quickly got up, knocking the table and what lay on top of it completely over.

One of the waiters cursed under her breath. “Dammit! That was at least $100. All of it good quality too.”

Everyone was staring at me, waiting for my reaction. Although my heart was pounding, I couldn’t say that I was particularly surprised at what I had walked into. Of course, I heard the rumours and harboured my own suspicions. I didn’t care what the other did, but I was irritated at their poor choice of timing.

“What the hell is going on? We are about to have a dining room full of customers and you seriously choose to do this now?!” My coworkers stared back at me, their eyes wide open and hands slightly shaking. I’m sure they hadn’t expected me to barge in or be this upset.

After a long period of silence, the head chef spoke first. “L-l-look,” he stammered, “I’m sorry you had to find out like this but this is just a little something we do before big nights like tonight to make sure we –“ Before he could finish whatever pathetic excuse he had started, one of the waiters interrupted.

“Listen,” she started, her eyes looking right into mine. “The way I see it, you have two options. You tell on us, we get fired, and you’re left with a full house and no cooks or waiters to help you. Or, you close the door and help us finish what we started, and we can all go back out there together.”

I looked back at the expectant faces before turning around and reaching for the door. I took off my apron and slowly closed the door behind me. Facing the group, I grinned and casually said, “All you had to do was ask.”

____________________________________________________________________________________________

I gathered the soup cans off of the floor and quickly put them back on the shelf. The others had already returned to work, but I told them I needed a couple of minutes before I could join them. They thought it was because I had told them this was my first time, but the truth was, I had been thinking about that couple that was out in the dining room waiting for their food. I hadn’t heard their order called yet and I needed to make sure I was the one that brought it out to them. After a couple more minutes, when I felt that enough time had passed, I put on my apron and left the storage room. Luckily, I timed it perfectly and sitting on the servery was the order for table two. I picked up the two plates and made my way through the double doors, into the dining area.

“This is it! Just sign the stupid papers and I swear we’ll never have to set eyes on each other ever again!”

I paused for a second before reaching their table to take in the whole scene. Things seemed to have escalated since I was gone, and the papers that once lay uniform on the table were now scattered all over the place. The man no longer had the sleeves on his shirt buttoned up. The sleeves were now free from their buttonholes and carelessly bunched up at his forearms. The woman looked equally disheveled with pieces of her hair sticking up in different places. I looked from the man to the woman and back again. I don’t understand how I didn’t see it earlier. I had figured it out – it being what they were here to do.

I chuckled to myself and walked towards their table. As I handed the couple their plates, I gave them a sly look and said “I’ve been watching you two all night and I just wanted to say how convincing and extremely talented you are. I’m sure you’ll both get whatever parts you are auditioning for but good luck just in case!”

I winked at them knowingly and made my way back into the kitchen as the man and woman started blankly, their mouths slightly open.

____________________________________________________________________________________________

Hi everyone! I know this is a little out of the ordinary for this blog but I recently unearthed a bunch of old short stories I wrote. After some thought, I decided that I would try posting some of my favourites here as part of a three-part series. I will pair each story with a photo I’ve taken that I think fits best so as to continue the theme of sharing my film photography. I hope you enjoyed this first story and the ones to follow!