Dakota Red

“Green Paint” by Dakota Red

Submitted to Contest #168

My grandfather’s door was red, once. A deep burgundy sort of red, that he said made him think of an old horse he owned. Now, it’s mostly sun bleached, or peeled away to show a dull blue beneath. It’s been like that for years, but I hadn’t noticed how badly it needed a paint job until now.  Finally, I turn the doorknob and walk in. The immediate smell beckons a thousand memories that had laid dormant for so long. I see the checkered tiles of the kitchen and think of sitting cross legged on them, trying to lure the cat. I remember tracin...

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“The Bridge” by Dakota Red

“I can see it now,” Reina muttered, a puff of smoke accompanying her words. She took one last drag before putting out the cigarette on the arm of my aunt’s lawn chair.  “What can you see?” She took her time before answering. She does that, Reina. Takes too much pleasure in toying with her audience. At last, she stretched, and smiled at me. “Why Blake likes you so much.” I snorted, but felt my face burn under her coffee-dark gaze. “I sure hope he does,” I said, “Our one month anniversary is tomorrow.” Reina barked out her usual laugh...

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“Eight Hundred (Inspired by real events)” by Dakota Red

Submitted to Contest #78

Eight hundred milligrams, the doctor said. Two white discs stare up at me on the counter, small beside the glass of water. Stupid little things. I look away.  On the window sill above the sink is a row of jagged chess pieces, carved from dead trees. Mostly uneven pawns of all shades, but at the end is a neatly sculpted queen.  “Have you tried carving yet?” It was August when I met her. I went for a walk, because the house was too small a place for all my emotions. She stood just outside that creepy old house on Nullen street, ...

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“Chant” by Dakota Red

Submitted to Contest #63

By the time I step outside, the leaves are on fire. Autumn has arrived, and it’s going to rain. I hate autumn, and I hate the rain. It was raining when she left. It was october.  I hurry to the bus stop. Kill me. As far as I know, I’m the only one that can hear them. Though “hear” doesn’t seem like the right word for it. It’s more of a feeling. A feeling with words. You’ve probably got one, too, whether you realize it or not. A chant. A phrase or word that you subconsciously repeat like a mantra. Or maybe a song lyric you can’t get ...

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“Chocolate and Murder” by Dakota Red

Submitted to Contest #55

Truth. Truth is all I wanted. Well, that and a box of Andes Chocolate Mints. At that moment, with my stomach growling, and my mind racing, I couldn’t figure which one was more urgent. But either way, it caused me to walk willingly into a sketchy gas station downtown that smelled of smoke, and sour milk.  Hilly’s Gas and Goods was a sad, gray building squatting in the middle of nowhere, a few miles outside city limits. Surrounding it was a massive plot of sand and weeds. Were it not for the highway, and ugly gas station, you could film ...

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“Pill Bug” by Dakota Red

Submitted to Contest #35

Faris you comin?Id rather die K Im in ur driveway Avery no!!! Ready when u r :)Faris sighed and chucked his phone at his bed. Then his mother’s swift knock came at the door. “Faris, are you almost ready?” He could have screamed just then. Did “no” mean nothing to these people? “Mom, I don’t want to go.” “Well that’s fine, but Avery’s in the driveway, and you gotta tell him yourself.”Great. Like that would go well.  Fine. You know what? Fine. He would accept his fate for now. With the anticipation of a slug, Faris pulled on a cas...

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“Coffee, and Plot Devices” by Dakota Red

Submitted to Contest #32

Meg knew she was a background character. Or a side character, on lucky days. But never a protagonist. Never a love interest. Never a villain. And thank goodness for that, she told herself. They seemed to have the most troubles.  Despite the rain, Meg biked to the coffee shop. Her dark hair stuck to her forehead, nearly blocking her vision more than the helmet she’d strapped on. Had she been a main character, she wouldn’t have bothered with the helmet. But Victoria, the god that ruled them, couldn’t care less about her world’s ensemble, ...

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“Strawberries” by Dakota Red

Submitted to Contest #31

They were out of strawberries. And Mom wanted to make strawberry pie. Avery couldn’t think of a reason for why his mom suddenly needed strawberry pie, but he didn’t question it. What he did question, however, was his ability to do what was necessary. Go to the little grocer just around the corner, and buy them. He’d never gone to the store by himself, and he was almost ten. He hated approaching people. He could barely manage to ask permission to use the bathroom in school, let alone ask where one might find the strawberries. But mom was...

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“Lost Girl's Odyssey ” by Dakota Red

Submitted to Contest #28

We’re laughing, singing to the radio, and watching the mountains fly past on either side. There’s five of us squashed into the same vehicle, but we’re happy. We don’t care if our voices are loud, and terrible. Peter smiles at me, with that innocent smile of his, and I know that there is no greater joy in this life than to love and be loved.  Then his hand strays from the steering wheel to rest in the space between us, and suddenly my mind curls in on itself as I remember a scene so parallel to this one.  It began when she broke hi...

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“The Dead Dog Saloon” by Dakota Red

Submitted to Contest #27

The whole mess began like a domino effect the moment Jolin spat in Gunner Keggin’s face. The Dead Dog Saloon was a bar notorious for outbursts and fights, and Keggin did have a talent for pissing people off, so Jolin’s mistake shouldn’t have come as much of a surprise to everyone watching. (And believe me, everyone was watching). Only this wasn’t just any loser’s face. This was Gunner Keggin. You don’t mess with Keggin.  Jolin was new, see, and hadn’t yet grasped the unspoken rules of Blake Dunes. Rule number one, for instance, stated t...

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“The Grey Runner” by Dakota Red

Submitted to Contest #26

Another embarrassment. Gregory Weller rubbed his tired eyes. He’d gotten so far this time. “I- terribly sorry, but I forgot- I’ve a train to catch.” “A train?” Abilene frowned. “Where on earth are you going? You’ve never mentioned a train before.” Gregory tried his best to ignore the sweat gathering about his forehead. “Of course I have- you must have not been paying attention. At any rate, I must be off. Gooday.” “But wait-”  “I’ll see you again soon!” And he left, without a glance behind him. He couldn’t look at the soft curve of her ...

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“Sixty-Buck-Olive” by Dakota Red

Submitted to Contest #25

Olive drummed her fingers on the wood grain with suffocating impatience.  “Well it’s obvious what we should do.” she said at length, “We ought to organize a playdate so we can spy on him. Simple.” “Playdate?” Gabe scoffed, “What are we, four? Besides, he’s sixteen! Why would he  want to hang out with us?” “Two years difference isn’t so bad,” Olive defended, “My parents are four years apart in age.” “Yeah, that would be great advice, if we were planning to marry him!”Olive sighed. “Did we have any other jobs?” Gabe shuffled through ...

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