Short Stories

The Stream, a Short Story

Her grandmother’s chair creaked and groaned as she sat on the front porch for a long overdue break. The sky grew darker, indicating a storm was heading her direction. An imminent disturbance that only reminded her of the tempest twisting and blustering in her heavy heart.

The wind heaved fiercely from the west, shaking the lilac bushes by the stream that ran through her yard, raging this way and that. She closed her eyes and wondered at the power of the wind and how it blew her carefully fastened hair across her face like wild talons threatening to claw at her careworn eyes.

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Thunder cracked and rolled across the heavens, but it did not startle her. Instead, she smiled with relief as the temperature dropped ten degrees. The first fat drops splattered across the front of the porch, darkening the gray, peeling paint. It was only moments before the tumultuous wind blew the rain right across her lap.

Taking a deep breath and holding it, she thought perhaps there was nothing as good as the smell of a summer rain. Yet, deep down, she knew it wasn’t true what they said about the rain. It didn’t wash away all the dirt. Instead, it left puddles and mud. And that deceivingly sweet, earthy smell.

Her grandmother’s chair continued its creaking and groaning, although she had risen from it. She turned toward the stream now, once again closing her eyes against it all. Could she change what the rain really did? If she imagined hard enough, she might picture everything much better than it really was.

“I watched the stream turn into a waterfall, and then the water began to rise,” she murmured to no one.

In that moment, there were no puddles, no mud. Instead, the beautiful water engulfed her as it flowed over the waterfall and surrounded her in the rising depths. She fell back, letting it bury her, filling her nostrils and mouth.

At last, she was clean.

© Copyright 2017
booomcha.com
KL Hawke

(Updated 9/25/2023 by KL Hawke)

FYI #1: This short story first appeared on my site September 26, 2017 after I wrote it using this writing prompt: the black CATastrophy Writing Prompt 08. It was later published in their magazine here: The Stream, a black CATastrophy Short Story.

FYI #2: My pseudonym used to be “Rosemary Castevet” and that is the name I used to submit my entry as that is the name I used at that time on my site here.

I cleaned up a couple sentences I wasn’t very happy with.

Thank you so much for reading, liking, lurking, and commenting!



Featured Image by George from Pixabay


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I am a simmer, Rennie garb wearer, author, and dog petter. Judy Garland is my queen, horror movies & classic movies are my jam. A little bit eccentric, owned by cats. 🐱🐱🐱

69 Comments on “The Stream, a Short Story

  1. Thank you for sharing!!.. looking on the light side, rain is often referred to as “cleaning” so perhaps she used the rain/water to mentally wash away of all the negative in her life.. her spirit becoming free,…. 🙂

    Hope all is well, you have the mostest wonderfulest day every day and until we meet again….
    May the sun shine all day long
    Everything go right, nothing go wrong
    May those you love bring love back to you
    And may all the wishes you wish come true
    May your troubles be less
    Your blessings be more
    And nothing but happiness
    Come through your door
    (Irish Saying)

  2. Whoa. That gave me chills, Kymber. So beautifully described and atmospheric (both literally and figuratively). You left the character mor open to interpretation than the landscape, which I loved. It let the story reveal itself slowly and flow easily into the tragic end. Nice!

  3. I love the sensory descriptions, so Bert powerful. This was beautifully written. Such a massive punch in a little package. I was right there with this character and felt her pain. Great job, my dear friend. 🤗

  4. WOW Kymber, this is so powerful, yet so tragic. You can gather different versions of grandmother becoming untethered by what image was in her mind that would have been burdensome, whether life/death, or soul-cleansing. What a heartwarming short, short my friend. 🤗💖😊

    1. Thank you so much, chickie! 🤍🌻🌺 I was literally on my front porch in an old rocking chair when it started to rain. Something came over me, and I ran inside and typed the first draft like a mad woman. lol I’m so glad you liked it.

      1. Now Kymber darling, talk about inspiration! I love that! 💖 There is nothing like a rain shower to inspire a mad woman with a keyboard! LOL 🤣💻✍🏼💖😘 Keep drafting dear heart.

  5. I love the descriptions in this piece. It’s very thought-provoking as the ending can have multiple different explanations. For me, she was someone who sinned a lot in the past and her sins wouldn’t leave her like the dirt in those puddles but she wanted to be cleansed of them.

  6. This is a well written story from your long past. It seems a shame though because it sounds like the old lady drowned. I’m thinking she either got washed away in the waterfall or she is so lost in her own thoughts that her dream became her reality.

  7. Wow, I was reading and thinking, “What a great writer she is!” so I’m glad it was recognized and published. I’m going to check out the magazine now too.

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