Alright, I said that if ten people voted for it, I would bring my brand-new story about haunted lights to you here on Substack. It turned out that I got eleven votes (KUDOs to whoever voted “Sure”) and I was one of the “Yes” votes sooooo now I can do this with a clean conscience! You asked for it! Ten of you!
“But Andrew, weren’t you worried about ruining your chances of publishing it more traditionally if you published it here?”
Yeah, I was, but I decided that I shouldn’t be, because underneath that worry is a different, more serious one: will I never have a good story idea again? What if I only have so many stories to publish, and this is one of them?
I decided that was ridiculous. I’ve had that thought over and over, and yet I keep having new ideas. Besides, it’s only 289 words. Maybe one day this story will be the ending of something much longer, and I can do something different with it then, but in the meantime, I might as well put this tiny little ditty to work for me here and now, eh?
Since I haven’t published a new story here before—you know, a real, fictional story—I’m going to go all the way for it. I’m going to dedicate this thing to someone, record an audio version, go through acknowledgements, and do a “behind the episode” style commentary afterwards. I know this is no “Big Five” published novel and doesn’t even hit the 300-word mark, but hell, I’m going to pretend like it’s the most official thing in the world, because why not?
Anyway, without further ado, here is my newest story, Violet.
Thinking of my Grandmas, Ingeborg and Margaret, who lived long, full lives and gave me so much. I wish they could read this story.
Prefer audiobooks? Listen here:
Violet
Last night, I sat on a bench, under the stars. The world around me was wreathed in a thin fog. It was late, there was no traffic—just me on one side of the street, and the dark buildings hunched on the other. They looked sad.
And they should have; they had witnessed something awful.
There was a streetlight nearby. It's cold whiteness threw shadows long around me and set the water particles in the air ablaze.
I glanced up towards the light, then down to the street sign below it. I couldn't read the enshadowed words, but I knew.
5th Street
Lincoln Avenue
The street signs bisected each other like a cross, and affixed below them was another, floral. Even in the shadows, I knew, for I had put it there. The nearby intersection still had tire tracks in it, but I was surprised to see little shimmers as well; glints and sparkles created by the light striking shards of glass that hadn’t yet stuck in any tires and fled the scene.
Tears crawled out onto my lashes and perched there to look out into the world, perhaps finding kin in the air around me.
And then, the streetlight seemed to notice my tears. What once was white became amber; what once was cold became warm—a comfort.
Mind racing—hoping—I blinked, and the tears fell out onto my cheeks, abandoned, unneeded.
When I looked back up at the changed light, my eyes were clear.
"Grandma?"
The light flickered, and I knew. I began to smile.
Amber gave way to red
orange
yellow
green
blue
indigo
and finally, Violet.
"Grandma," I breathed, my eyes swimming again.
The light began to pulse, and she breathed with me.
Acknowledgements
I would like to thank my wife, Jenelle, and son, Clyde, for their imaginations. I’ve already talked in more detail here about how their comments set my own imagination ablaze like the light that lit the fog surrounding our protagonist.
Thanks are also due to the very small group of beta readers I used on this story. Jenelle, read it multiple times and helped me work out some of the weak spots. Then David and Julia Lawson read it for a final round of polish and to tell me if the dang thing made any sense. Extra thanks to David for being a highly dedicated beta reader for all of my projects. He’s reading Rue for the second time right now, and I promised he will make it into the acknowledgements section of a book one day. This will have to do for now, pal.
Did you like “Violet?” Leave a comment or donation below; either will mean a lot. Thank you!
Loved this. Love the space it creates for my imagination to fill in, and made me want to give your character a big hug ❤️