Louise Muller

“Binding Memories ” by Louise Muller

Submitted to Contest #216

The ambience of their surroundings didn’t make their meeting any less uncomfortable. Jeffrey gazed at the woman who sat across from him. She smiled faintly, picked up her dark, steaming beverage and took a small sip. Even though Jeffrey had invited her here, he had no recollection of her.  “Why did I invite her here?” he wondered to himself, questioning the outcome of this meeting. She seemed to sense his thoughts as she suddenly leaned forward, moving the small canister of sugar to the side, and said, “I’m so happy you called me, Jef...

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“The Tale of the Golden Yellow Weeping Willow ” by Louise Muller

Submitted to Contest #215

It is a tale as old as time, perhaps even older, I suppose. Pure evil has no recorded date of birth, you see. Deep in the forest the three teens worked hard to overcome their loss. The harsh and brutal winter had taken their mother and father the year before. This forced them to learn how to live off the land and support each other as there was no one else to care for them. Whenever Liam looked at his sister, Stella, he was amazed by how much she had grown. The golden streaks that glistened in her hair reminded him so much of his late m...

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“Turning the Tables ” by Louise Muller

Him  He felt twigs bend and break under his heavy boots. The forest engulfed him, removing him more from the outside world with every step he took. He loved the journey to his women. Some might argue it is much too far for a daily excursion, but the adrenaline he felt as he approached the cabin never left him wanting. He saw the small structure far on the horizon and his heartbeat quickened in anticipation. A smile spread across his face as he thought about what lies behind those metal doors. His thoughts went to his newest conquest. ...

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“Quija” by Louise Muller

Submitted to Contest #183

For as long as I can remember, I lived a cautious life, strictly on the straight and narrow. “Never trust something you don’t understand, Sharon,” my grandmother’s words echoed in my head. We, the Braverman women, weren’t the kind of people who lived on the wild side. We never took chances; no risks for us - ever. It is fair to say that we didn’t embrace the name Braverman as we should have, but we weren’t men after all. Maybe it was best to leave the bravery of life to the men. That is what I thought until I met Jonah. Whenever I saw him, t...

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“The Locked Door ” by Louise Muller

Submitted to Contest #130

The key glistened as the afternoon sun kissed it lightly. It seemed to taunt me, whispering that this was what I had been waiting for, refusing to go unnoticed any longer. My sister, Mary, sat next to me. Her eyes, too, were fixed on the golden object that offered so many answers. The air around us seemed to change as expectation hung in the air. Was today the day we’d finally get to go into Dad’s locked door? For as long as I can remember, the door was forbidden. In fact, just a stare in the general direction of the room would be enough t...

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“The Statement of Officer John Burkle ” by Louise Muller

Submitted to Contest #130

The pages reflect the little light that fills the room. They seem to beg me to pick them up and see what secrets they contain. I know what is written within, yet I burn to have my eyes glide over the words to see the story from another perspective. Finally, a clearing of the throat snaps my attention. Then, a nod, encouraging me to take hold and devour what lies ahead of me. I can no longer contain my curiosity, you see, and so, I grab the folder and begin to read.  My name is Officer Burkle, Officer John Burkle, and these are my acco...

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“The Secret of the Charred Widow ” by Louise Muller

Submitted to Contest #130

"Promise me you'll keep on living, Mia," he whispered through strained breaths. His lips had lost their color. His eyes still shone bright with love but shared immense sadness and guilt. He felt guilty for leaving us behind. Even on his deathbed, Evan was selfless. I smiled through my tears and took a deep breath, hoping to breathe him in and keep him with me for longer.  Evan passed on a Wednesday. The weeks that followed were excruciating. People faffed, oh, how they faffed. Meals, hugs, phone calls, and flowers came with love but m...

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“Grandpop's Stutter” by Louise Muller

Submitted to Contest #129

“There’s s-s-something in them w-w-woods,” Grandpop whispered with the usual quiver in his voice. His eyebrows were untamed and gray. His lips trembled as they always did when he spoke about the woods. He had stuttered for as long as I could remember. My sister and I asked him about it once. “The c-c-creature in the w-w-woods took my s-s-speech,” he answered with solemn eyes,” along with your M-m-mama and G-g-grandma. No m-m-man can recover f-f-from an encounter like that.” We never knew a time before Grandpop’s stutter, a time with Grandma ...

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“Intertwined Fate” by Louise Muller

Submitted to Contest #128

Come, child, have a seat. Surely you have a few minutes to sit with an old woman before heading off trying to find the place where you long to go. I also got lost in these woods many times over the years. In fact, I’m very grateful that you took the wrong turn at the main road and traveled down to this neck of the woods. It’s been too long since someone has. Now, don’t worry, love, old age isn’t contagious, and I don’t bite. What’s that? Oh, yes, my tea is an interesting color indeed. Funny you should ask because I was just about to tel...

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“Old Faded Photographs ” by Louise Muller

Submitted to Contest #96

My fingers run over the material that hangs loosely from my neck, a scarf that feels both new and old. It has a familiarity that makes it feel cosy like a warm summer breeze. It also has an element of mystery, disguised by a lush, soft, luxerious feel. My fingers play with the yarn and I wonder how much time has passed since I put the scarf on, hours or minutes? I wonder what color the scarf is. There's no way to be sure. The house smells of oranges and lavender. It's the kind of smell you'd expect the model homes of 'House and Home' maga...

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“The Stiletto Proclamation ” by Louise Muller

Submitted to Contest #95

Floral and sweet fragrances sell unspoken promises. As I walk past the lush amount of perfume counters on the first floor of the department store, my senses are flooded with scents and images, each carrying silent vows of power. The massive images boldly sell illusions of what a real woman looks like. The perfumes, however, weave a subtle magic. Some promise the confidence to catch the man of your dreams. Others might promise to change you into a boss girl, the kind of woman who would turn heads and cause whispers and stares of admiration....

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“Below Deck ” by Louise Muller

Submitted to Contest #95

The air around me seemed to stand still. Everyone was silent. The tension strangled me. Lena, my bride, stood in front of me staring at me, awaiting my response. Her look was one of concern and anger. I had hesitated, and that was frowned upon when standing in front of the altar. Thou shall not hesitate. The truth is, I wasn't simply trying to buy time, I was wondering how the hell I was going to get myself out of this situation. When I saw her walking towards me, my future father-in-law proudly boasting his gorgeous daughter on his arm, I w...

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“The Final Shot ” by Louise Muller

Submitted to Contest #95

My tired eyes were burning as sweat ran down my face. I felt my heart pumping loudly in my chest. My breath was shallow and harsh. My lungs hurt with every breath I took. The air was hot, and felt hostile, poisonous. I was overcome with fear, pure unadulterated fear. It was the kind of fear you felt when you knew your life was about to change for the worst. Few people knew this kind of fear, and I envied all who didn't. My hands were shaking and they felt foreign and clumsy as I clung to my camera. The scene before me felt unreal like a bad...

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“For Her Eyes Only ” by Louise Muller

Submitted to Contest #78

He raised the tainted paper to eye level and looked at it closely, misshaped and deformed, manipulated by his hands. He ran his hands over the sheet. His hands, like the paper, were misshaped and deformed, manipulated by old age. This would be his last letter, he knew it. His time had come. He met Lina more than sixty years ago at his cousin, Bob's BBQ. If he had known that his entire life would change over burgers and beer, he would have shown much more excitement when Bob invited him. He tried several excuses, but his stubborn cousin wo...

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“288 Hours” by Louise Muller

Submitted to Contest #77

"Go to Austria," my sister had said, "it'll be good for you to be by yourself, away from technology, people, and especially that ass, Rob." Now that I find myself in Austria, alone, with no means to contact the outside world, I fear I didn't think this through. My sister, Debs has four children under the age of four years old. Silence must be something she treasures. For me, however, I find the silence that surrounds me here to be crushing, like an invisible force that engulfs and consumes. She was right, though. I needed to get away. Rob...

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