[Ongoing] A collection of unsettling or unusual short stories. Some have monsters, some have humor, some draw tears, some make you think, and some have artwork. Each is a revealing glance of someone's life.
Every writer has their own methods of comi...
Original story below, but you can find a revamped version in my collection "The Joke's on Me: and six other twisted stories of absurdity and regret", available on Amazon!
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I’d saved up for my first solo vacation and was determined to make the most of it. Since I had a tight budget, I chose California. It may not be overseas, but it was still a perfect way to satisfy my shameless tourist itch.
I’d already taken tours through San Francisco, Hollywood, Los Angeles, Santa Barbara, Malibu, and Santa Monica and I’d visited all the attractions. Now, I was in a cozy coffee shop in Laguna Beach, having breakfast and planning the remainder of my day by Googling the local must-sees on my phone.
I was interrupted from my browsing by a friendly, “hello,” and I looked up to see a guy smiling down at me. “You don’t really want to go there,” he said, pointing to a brochure I had next to my coffee. “It’s nothing special.”
“Oh, yea?” I shrugged. “I just picked it up from the lobby, I don’t know much about it.”
“Forget the touristy stuff. You should get tips from a local. I can recommend a few places, if you’d like.”
“I actually like touristy things,” I said with a smile. “It’s the main reason I came to Cali.”
“Oh, so I just blew it for myself, didn’t I?” he asked, laughing.
I laughed as well. “No, not really. I’d still be interested in hearing what you’ve got.”
The guy took a seat across from me and introduced himself as August, and we ended up talking for three hours. First, it was all about what California had to offer, but soon our conversation veered towards personal details, preferences, and aspirations.
He was a few years older than me and earned his living via smart investments. He was a bit more preppy than the guys back in my town but he was friendly, confident, and quite courteous. There was also something about him that seemed familiar, though I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. I decided to blame it on how his thin-lipped smile was similar to my brother’s.
He invited me to join him and his sister on their yacht that afternoon, and after politely declining twice, I gave in when he promised excellent touristy photo opportunities. He offered to pick me up from my motel but I told him not to trouble himself. Instead, I took an Uber down to the place he mentioned and waited for him to show up.
After fifteen minutes of searching for his face in the crowd, I did a double take when a young woman walked over. For a second, I thought she was my cousin. Yet my cousin couldn’t afford an outfit like that in her wildest dreams, so I was confident it wasn’t her.
“Hey there, you must be Tina!” she said. “I’m Summer, August’s sister. Welcome to California!”
“Do you guys have a brother named Night?” I asked with a chuckle.
