Irene Ivy

“Nuclear Silence” by Irene Ivy

Submitted to Contest #149

The lights on the roof of the tour bus flickered on and off as we slowed to a stop. I kept my eyes focused on the cloudy light covers until I heard the clearing of a throat, suggesting I join the rest of the group. I stepped off the last rusted step and onto the hard, frozen ground of the place my ancestors lived and died; Ukraine. The starting location for our nighttime tour of Chernobyl and the commemorative memorial was not quite what I expected. The bus discarded me and my companions in front of the Cafe Pripyat, where nature had reclaim...

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“A Slippery Misunderstanding” by Irene Ivy

Submitted to Contest #141

Juliet stepped into the boat slowly, one foot at a time. Flip flops were not the best choice of footwear obviously, even for a quick sight-seeing trip around the beach. The floor was wet and slippery, but she was careful as she maneuvered to the bench seat on the opposite side of the boat. She thought back to yesterday when she slid on the greased floor in the Fry Shack and the guy that had just flirtatiously smiled at her and caught her from falling, right as his girlfriend walked up.  She sat her oversized, blue striped bag on her lap...

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“What I Thought I Knew” by Irene Ivy

Submitted to Contest #140

I remember still, the bus ride I took from our youth camp to the abandoned mill town. The memory came to me as we walked passed the line of school buses in the bus loop of my son’s middle school. I remember sitting down in the large bench seat, tattered blue with no seat belt buckles. I scooted close to the window and left the end of the seat open to anyone who wanted to share a seat. I was very used to sitting alone and, in fact, had on most busses I had ridden. I never considered myself ugly, just a skinny girl, with golden blonde hair,...

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“Him Fire, Her Ice” by Irene Ivy

This story is loosely based on Zac Efron's Netflix documentary, "Down to Earth". If I didn’t know better, I’d say the man was pulling out a small treasure chest from the frozen ground of Iceland, but I did know better. He was pulling out a finished loaf of rye bread from the black sands or hot springs. Regardless, the pretty blonde that he was with seemed to be more than impressed as if the guy with his millennial beard, was a miracle worker. Yeah, a real genius with his gray beanie propped on top of his head so the top half laid slack and t...

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“The Ski Slope” by Irene Ivy

Submitted to Contest #129

[This story alludes to child neglect.] “I can’t stop!” she yelled. “Turn to the side!” he yelled behind him, but it was too late; Miley crashed right into the back of him, taking them both down, hands and faces smacked in the snow. Snow was shoved into their faces, up their noses and into their mouths, cold and wet. Jason sat right up but if Miley thought he was worried about her, she was wrong. “Miley! Ugh! Why didn’t you turn? I told you to turn!” he snapped. Miley sat up, more slowly than her older brother, and wiped away...

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