There's Stories Everywhere

There's Stories Everywhere

By Alledria HurtArtsBooks
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There's Stories Everywhere episodes

  • Fresh Dead Flowers

    A reading and discussion of Fresh Dead Flowers. 

    If you wanna leave me a voice message, head over to Anchor.fm/alledria to leave me a voice message. You can also tweet me @ourladyofashes on Twitter or email me from my blog alledriahurt.com.

    To support the podcast, check out direct support through Anchor.fm or my Patreon at www.patreon.com/alledriahurt.

    14 min
  • Scared of Shadows
    Leave the lights off. Whatever you do, leave the lights off. I know, it’s weird. But it’s better in the dark. Why, you ask? I’ll tell you, but you have to promise to believe. If you aren’t going to believe me, there’s no reason for me to say anything at all. So you have to promise you’ll believe. Do you believe?
    One night, I was alone in a parking lot outside of Murray’s, you know, that dive bar off fifth? I know, not exactly the kind of place for a lady. Back then, I wasn’t a lady or even trying to be. Nothing mattered. It wouldn’t matter to you either if your husband had just packed up and bounced with your children in tow for parts unknown. I should have been spending time trying to get them back. Should have. Could have. Didn’t. You know the mantra. I know it well. The first step is to admit you have a problem.
    I have a problem. I’m scared.
    That night, I stood there alone in the lot. It wasn’t too late for taxis, but I was too broke and admittedly more wasted than should have been allowed to find my own way home that night. I thought I saw a man in the street lamp on the corner. Of course, it flickered on and off like always. I wonder if it’s because old man Murray is too cheap to pay the city to fix it? He was a tall man, the kind you expect plays some b-ball in his free time. I planned to hit him up for some change, or a ride, something. I didn’t have a lot of dignity left, but I didn’t want to be caught sleeping in the gutter outside of Murray’s or on a park bench huddled under newspapers. I still had a little pride. Can’t tell by looking around, can you? Haven’t been out in weeks. The neighbors, they complain, even tacked a note on the door. I know its a note because it’s paper. I don’t know what it says. Too dark to read in here. 
    I like it that way.
    He can’t get me that way.
    The man melted under the street lamp, just great glops of him dropping onto the pavement with sounds I can’t unhear but can’t describe. Soul wrenching sounds that sobered me up in a damned hurry. I ran. No looking back, nothing, ran.
    I haven’t been back.
    A week later, I went to see Robby. The kids were out. We were going to try and work things out. He wanted to work things out and I wanted…well, I wanted my life back. The warm, sunny kitchen seemed perfect. We talked and talked. And talked. Then it rose out of his shadow, right off the ground like something that shouldn’t be. Robby clutched his chest as it slipped fingers around his neck. I stared. I was still staring when I realized he was dead. Then shadow man saw me.
    8 min
  • Every Sunny Monday Afternoon

    Today I'm reading "Every Sunny Monday Afternoon" or "Brittany" depending on how you feel about it. Then I'll tell you what made me think of this particular set up. 


    Here's the story if you're the kind who likes to read along:

    It was a sunny Monday afternoon when Brittany bought her coke and gum and went skipping down Third street toward home. Slung over her shoulder, she carried her school pack with little interest. Homework was such a drag and the day was so pretty. She continued her sort of skipping, letting the bag flap up and down on her back with its meager cargo.

    The teachers had a conspiracy going that they didn’t assign homework on Monday. Something about needing to recuperate from their weekend of heavy grading. Brittany paid it little attention, it meant she didn’t have to worry about getting homework done on a pretty day when all she really wanted was to be outside lounging in the sun within 30 feet of the Marsten’s back fence so Robert could see her.

    One day he would see her.

    Passing the Marsten’s house, she waved at Robert standing on the porch. He looked good in his white shirt, red tie, and loafers. He didn’t seem to see her, but she knew he had to hid how bad he wanted her. If he let on, he might get in trouble with Lark, his girlfriend. 

    Thinking about the other girl brought a frown to Brittany’s happy face. Gone almost as soon as she realized it was there, she continued on to her front door.

    “Mom, I’m home.”

    Katherine looked up as the front door opened by itself then glanced at the clock on the mantle. It was Monday and the right time.

    Rising from her seat, she grabbed the bag the good doctor told her to get.

    Brittany dropped her bag on the foyer floor and headed for the kitchen. She put the coke down on the counter with a clink and went rummaging through her pockets for her gum to put next to it. Mom always wanted to know what she spent her money on, the penny pincher. 

    She was in the middle of grabbing the loaf of bread off the top of the fridge when Katherine entered, a cross held before her.

    “You do not belong here.”

    No one told her when she bought the house it came with a ghost that showed up only on sunny Mondays. Of course, the realtor did her due diligence, she informed Katherine a murder had taken place on the property. 

    Brittany opened the fridge and Katherine felt the blast of cold as the girl stood in the doorway contemplating sandwich fixings.

    Brittany Parsons had been murdered during her senior year at Everest High School by a psychotic neighbor. Katherine saw the rough handprints around the girl’s neck as she brandished the cross at her. 

    “You DO NOT belong here.” She had no prayers, though she’d been told to prepare one. Something to soothe the creature of the undead into the afterlife. All she could think about though was how she pitied the poor creature. “Brittany, you do not belong here anymore.”

    The fridge door hung on its hinges, no longer moving alone. Katherine closed it.

    Monday afternoon held the perfect promise of sun and Brittany bought a Coke and gum at the corner store. 


    Want more of the same? Check me out on Patreon at www.patreon.com/alledriahurt

    6 min

About There's Stories Everywhere

From the publisher's feed

Inspiration is everywhere. In this podcast, I dive into the inspiration for my short fiction as well as providing the story itself so you can see where things begin and where they end.