Despite feeling less comfortable with my ability to write fiction in comparison to poetry, I think I had a little bit of success with a couple of stories that did not all fit into my portfolio.
One of my stories involved a kidnapping of two sisters from a big town at the age of five who have spent the past 13 years living as best friends blocks away in the same small town. Grace was hanging posters as part of her philanthropic activities when the missing flyers that had been in the same spot for the past 4 years since she has been doing this finally caught her eye. From there, I wrote:
Most missing people make it on the news, I always thought, but there were over thirty faces staring at me as I walked past. I glanced at them, not planning to give it to much thought, but that is when I saw it. My best friend’s face plastered up for all to see. It was not spot on, but it had to be her. I stopped in my tracks immediately and aggressively tore down the paper. On the left was a picture of a five-year-old girl, smiling. On the right was an image progressed thirteen years, which was a striking image of Kaelynn. The only thing that did not match was the name. Who was Lucy Davis? I was so distracted by hers that I did not even recognize the one below that was uncovered when I ripped of this Lucy Davis one. Chloe Davis was the name revealed. The pair were obviously sisters from the baby pictures, but the progressive pictures were only a bit similar. The odd thing about this Chloe was her resemblance to me. Why was I showing up as missing? Why is Kaelynn missing? Why do we look like these sisters? Could me being “missing” account towards my traumatic experience that caused this time gap in my mind? Tearing down the Chloe Davis poster as well, I sprinted out of the store into the pouring rain.
This is just a small segment of the fiction piece, but includes the main conflict within the story.
Experiencing Erin 