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  The Un-Wind

  By Tiffeni Crawford

  Copyright  2016 Tiffeni Crawford

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Table of Contents

  Copyright Page

  Un-Known

  Trapped

  It’s Now or Never

  6 Feet Under

  About Tiffeni Crawford

  Un-known

  10 P.M Wednesday.

  A baseball cap shaded his face, concealing his identity as he slumped over to the park bench, hands stuffed in pockets, shoulders hunched.

  I didn’t know his name, but I knew that he was an older gentleman about 5’9 and he walked with a limp.

  Every night that I came to the park, he was there too. He didn’t do much while there. Most people would take a stroll through Central Park trails, feed the birds, or enjoy the lights reflecting off the lake, but he didn’t.

  Every time I saw him he liked to follow a routine. He would sit at a park bench that faced away from the streets but looked over an empty, open field. He made sure it was secluded from the rest of the park. After a few minutes, he would take out a white paper, write something, and leave it on the bench.

  I’d leave to finish my 3-mile run only to come back to see that the old man was gone and the paper was still there.

  Out of curiosity, I went to read it.

  “That there wasn’t meant for you,” said the old man.

  “Oh! I’m sorry. I thought you dropped it or forgot it. Here you go.”

  10 P.M Friday.

  The old man was at the park again. This time instead of continuing my run, I stay and wait for him to leave.

  He does his normal routine: sits on a bench, takes out a piece of paper, writes something, and leaves it. After a few minutes he leaves with the paper still sitting on the bench.

  I scan the shadows between the forest of trees in the far distance and the empty area in front of the bench. Every part of the park was empty by first glance, so I took a second one to make sure he was gone while making my way to the bench.

  The note was gone.

  10 P.M Monday.

  The old man sat at his usual spot and finished off the last part of his routine.

  As he was leaving, I jogged over to the bench.

  After grabbing the note I jogged to a nearby clutter of big trees. I hid in the shadows so that I wouldn’t be seen.

  The paper was folded twice and had, what seemed like, a coffee stain on it.

  I opened it.

  It was blank.

  10 P.M Wednesday.

  He’s back, but his routine has changed.

  He takes out a piece of paper, writes something and leaves it on the bench as usual, but this time he leaves something else.

  Just like the day before, I jogged over to the bench.

  On it was the paper but with it were a thick, white, and glossy object and a pink Carnation. The glossy object was picture of a little girl. She had curly black hair, hazel eyes, and a smile bright enough to make your heart melt. She couldn’t be more than 13 years old.

  I grabbed everything that was there and jogged away making sure to get as far from the bench as possible.

  The piece of paper was folded in half and written inside was something that I could never forget.

  Dear Angelique,

  My princess. My baby girl. I’m sorry for not protecting you, for not being there when you needed me the most. I should’ve been there. It should have been me.

  Why couldn’t it have been me?

  Back to TOC

  Trapped

  A black couch in the middle of the room and a birdcage was sitting in the corner of the room by the window.

  A white-feathered bird flies out of its cage in a cramped gray-walled apartment and onto Sasha’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, CéCile, I will never disown you.” She brings beauty to this old, depressing apartment. Chirping in agreement, CéCile flies back to her cage on the opposite side of the room. “Sshh, before Bernie comes up here.” CéCile chirps again and flies around the room before landing on Sasha’s shoulder again.

  She soars so high. Her white feathers look like the clouds in the sky. I can’t imagine not having her in my life.

  There is a knock on the door. “Get that nasty poop making machine out of my apartment building,” said Bernie, yelling through the door.

  “Why would I own a poop making machine when I can make my own?” Sasha said.

  “You damn young’n, always got to be a smartass.”

  “Bernie, I am 26 years old. I am not as young as you are.”

  “Don’t try to sweet talk me.”

  “Who? Me? Never.”

  “Uh-huh, 26 you say? Heck, you’re still a baby. I have been through more in my 66 years of living than you will ever go through in your entire life.”

  “But—“

  “Now get that plague-infested animal out of this apartment before I evict you and keep your deposit.”

  “Just leave me alone, Bernie.”

  Bernie’s footsteps vibrates Sasha’s apartment as he walks away. The door to his apartment on the first floor slams shut.

  As Sasha walks away from the door the apartment vibrates again.

  There’s a knock on the door.

  “CéCile, hide.”

  She flew into cubicle shaped bedroom and hid under the bed.

  Sasha walked into her kitchen to add water to her face.

  “All right Sasha time to act for Bernie,” Sasha said to herself.

  Sasha opened the door.

  “Bernie, why can’t you just—“

  But Bernie was not on the other side. It was a muscular, six feet tall man with a goatee name Timothy Thompson. He wore a Calvin Klein suit with black leather dress shoes.

  “Tim, what are you doing here?” Strawberry and cigarette fumes come from his body.

  “I came to check on you. No one has heard from you in a month. How have you been?”

  “I’m doing okay. Please, come in.”

  “Thanks.”

  Tim scanned the apartment. There were old pizza boxes lying on the ground in the kitchen. Take out food containers aligned the living room table with an army of empty tissue boxes were thrown everywhere.

  “Please, have a seat,” said Sasha.

  “It’s okay, I’ll stand.”

  “Okay. Sorry about the mess. I haven’t had a chance to tidy up this week.”

  “So, how have you been holding up?”

  “I’ve been doing okay.”

  CéCile chirped from under the bed.

  “What’s that noise?”

  “What noise? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  CéCile chirped again.

  “That noise.”

  “CéCile, come on out.”

  “Who’s—“

  CéCile flew to Sasha’s shoulder.

  “You have a pet dove.”

  “Yeah…I do.” Sasha smiled and looked out the window.

  “When did you get a dove?”

  “I found her two days after my father’s funeral. She was limping outside my window and I took care of her since.”

  “That was a month ago. Sasha, you can’t keep her. She needs to be free.”

  “No! She brings me a peace of mind and CéCile is happy here.”

  “Sasha—“

&nb
sp; “Thanks for coming, Tim.”

  “I am sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  “Please, leave.”

  “Okay. Take care of yourself.” Tim took one last look at the apartment and Sasha before walking out the door.

  Sasha took CéCile and put her back into her cage.

  If I can’t be freed, she won’t be freed.

  Back to TOC

  It’s Now or Never

  Putting all of her love into him, Olivia falls for the man of her dreams. Or so she thinks until a sudden change results into a gun being aimed at her head.

  She didn't understand what he'd done to her, but she would by the time he was finished.

  Olivia and Broderick stood in front of a red brick cabin style home that has Chrysanthemums growing in the front yard.

  “Well, this is it,” says Olivia.

  “I guess it is,” said Broderick, giving his girlfriend a kiss on the forehead.

  They each take a box out of the moving truck and walk into their new home together.

  The floor made a soft creak as they walk towards the living room.

  The walls are painted light red with white cotton floors.

  Their breaths fill the silence of the house as they roam the now empty rooms around them.

  “This place is even more beautiful,” says Olivia.

  Broderick smiles and gives Olivia a kiss. “Lets finish unpacking.

  3 years later.

  “Where have you been?” says Olivia.

  Broderick stares at Olivia while he takes off his shoes.

  Olivia stands in front of Broderick to prevent him from leaving the entryway. “So you’re not going to answer me?”

  “Move,” says Broderick.

  His voice has never sounded so cold and heartless.

  “I’m not moving until you answer my question. Where have yo—

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  “You come home at all hours of the night and you tell me not to worry about.”

  Broderick pushes by Olivia and heads toward their bedroom.

  “Yes. Now leave me alone I’m going to get ready for