Short Story Debut: Finding My Heart
Greetings everyone! Queen of Spades here. I hope that you have been making yourselves at home in the Palace.
During National Short Story Month, members of All Authors Publishing House have decided to discuss select stories, including debuts of brand new stories. Click on the Authors' pictures to take you to their works (it'll open up in a separate tab/window).
The Syncopation of Ravishing Intensity, Adonis Mann, was the 1st to grace the Palace, with his newest work, "Twin Flame Duplicity."
Next to stop in was Author C. Desert Rose, who spoke about her new release "Angelic Epiphany", featuring one of her Fate's Endeavor characters.
Close on her heels was the Slightly Antisocial Socialite Da'Kharta Rising, who blended dark drama and humor, in her newest short story, "Apocawhat?".
Just recently, Synful Desire popped by to fill me in on her new contemporary work, entitled "Brielle."
Now that everyone is up to speed, it is now time for me to debut my newest short story work. Before I do, a tiny bit of backstory.
One of the activities I miss during the arrival of the pandemic is being able to freely travel. Not necessarily by plane (although I still do that) but other forms of transportation, like the train. I did share with someone that getting on the train to New York would be a trip I would do more frequently. I enjoyed it immensely but over the years stopped.
It has also been many years since I've been on Amtrak. The 1st time I ever boarded one was on a trip to Harrisburg, PA. My reflection on my Amtrak travel set the tone for "Finding My Heart."
62019. White numbers etched against a strip of blue. That held my focus instead of the mesmerizing beauty in front of me stating a truth I didn’t want to accept as my own.
“In front of me, I see a stranger,” Katarina said. “What happened to the man who enjoyed the simple pleasures associated with science—the shock in how all of life’s creatures operated? Did your thirst for knowledge really get replaced with money and grandeur?”
The strip of blue, atop the color of silver. No, steel. Silver was meant to stand out. Steel was meant to blend in.
“I’m still that man,” I argued.
“If you were still that man,” countered Katarina, poking my chest with her index finger, “then I would still be a priority to you. When did I get put in a column, a mere footnote in your grand design?”
My eyes moved from the decoration of the train to the top of her head. The roots of the hair—a light chestnut, a telltale sign the dye job was nearing its end. The rest of Katarina’s hair, strawberry blond. I still lacked courage to look in her eyes.