This is my third short story I ever completed, but I never posted it or showed it to anyone until recently.
I wrote this on a car ride home from a short vacation. It is one of the few optimistic/bright stories of mine as they are usually dark.
Hope you enjoy!
A Modest Man Makes A Modest Ghost
There was only one word to describe the house, and that word was “modest”. It was what you would call “cozy” in size. Beige in color. A plain wooden front door. Wooden shutters stained to match the front door. No garage, no second floor. An attic and a basement.
Modest.
That is what John thought of the house when he pulled up in his brand new car. The second thing John thought was how such a beautiful girl could live in such a small yet well-maintained house.
Beautiful.
That is what Rebecca was to John. Remarkably gorgeous. Positively stunning. A babe, as his friends called her. It made John’s friends jealous when he told them he had a date with Rebecca, who liked to be called “Rebecca” because it sounded more sophisticated than “Becky”.
Sophistication.
John was sophisticated by community standards. His father and mother were not. Rebecca tried to act sophisticated but deep down she was just as modest as the house she lived in. Although modest, her personality was vibrant and the exact opposite of the door and shudders.
Bland.
John thought the door was very bland, very bare and far too simple for a front door. He knocked on that plain door. Rebecca answered the door nervously. She was wearing blue jeans with a plain white top. She looked great in such simple clothes.
“Come on in. You can wait in the living room, I’m not quite ready yet,” she ushered him towards the living room.
“Not ready? You look beautiful right now, how can you get to looking any better?”
Red.
That is the color that filled Rebecca’s face as she murmured a “thanks” and walked to her room. John turned into the living room.
Surprised.
That is what John was at the sight of who seemed to be Rebecca’s father in a rich black suit. The suit was the opposite of the house; it was exquisite.
“Oh, hello Sir. My name’s John, John Wilmore. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“The pleasure’s all mine, Johnny boy. Please excuse the suit. I have a funeral to attend tomorrow and I was just fitting myself tonight.”
“Not a problem, Sir. You look excellent in that suit. It suits you.”
Smiles.
“Sit down, Becky will be a few minutes.”
“Thank you”.
Pause.
John sat in the chair. There was a strange feeling in the dense air, an electric sensation. It excited John, the feeling that ran up his spine to the top of his head.
“So, you like my daughter then?”
“Yes Sir, I do fancy her quite a bit.”
“That’s wonderful, it really is. I bet you still get butterflies in your stomach when you see her.”
“I sure do, Sir. She’s the most amazing girl I have ever met.”
Truth.
“Yes, she’s quite the girl, my little Becky. I just wish she wouldn’t flaunt her beauty as much as she does. She tried wearing this low-cut dress for tonight, but I made her change into something a little more simple and modest.”
Modest.
“I believe you made a good choice, Sir.”
Indifferent.
“Do you now? At your age the more dressed up a girl was the more I liked her. Hell, that’s why I married Becky’s mother.”
Chuckle.
“That’s why you like my daughter, isn't it?”
“Well, that’s one of the qualities about her that I like.”
“Qualities? What, that she goes showing off her body in public? You like that about her?”
“No, I like how free-spirited she is and how she doesn’t care what some people think about the way she dresses, but still looks beautiful without over doing it.”
Indignation.
“I see. You sure can weave a web of words to get caught in, Johnny boy. I’m more of a straight-forward type of guy myself. You like my daughter because you think she’s easy.”
“No, that’s not true at all!”
Truth.
“Oh? Someone’s getting a little defensive. I’m sorry. I won’t push the subject any further. Say, you play any sports?”
“Football and baseball, Sir.”
“Great sports. What positions?”
“Quarterback, safety, short-stop and pitcher.”
“Team Captain?”
“Of both teams, yes Sir.”
“I’ll bet you wear one of those leather jackets with a huge “C” on it, am I right?”
“Yes Sir.”
“Why do you wear it?”
Pause.
“I don’t know, Sir.”
“It’s to show off. I don’t like that.”
Tension.
Rebecca’s voice floated into the room from the hallway, “I’m ready, John!”
“Well, Johnny boy, you have a good, safe time with my Becky. You’re a good kid, but nobody likes anyone who tries to be perfect.”
“Thank you Sir, I will bring her home for nine.”
“Good man. Have a good time.”
“Goodbye, Sir.”
Apprehension.
John walked into the hall and saw Rebecca wearing a low-cut orange dress; the one her father didn’t want her to wear. She looked nothing short of marvelous to John. They stepped out through that modest front door which Rebecca promptly locked and they began walking towards John's car.
“Boy, your dad sure is a hard-***.”
“John, that’s not even funny.”
“What do you mean?”
“My dad’s been dead for exactly five years and two days. I know I don't talk about it, but I thought you knew that. How couldn't you have?”
Disbelief.
“I didn’t know, I promise. I’m sorry.”
“It's alright, I just thought most people know by now.”
Awkward.
“So, who was that in the living room, your step-dad?”
“My mom never re-married. What are you talking about, John?”
Anxiety.
John reached into his right hand side jeans pocket and stopped.
“Um, I left something in your living room. I need to go get it really quick.”
“Okay. But don’t joke about something that serious again, John. It’s not funny in the least.”
“I’m sorry”.
Truth.
John stepped through that modest door and walked straight to the living room. He expected to see the man in the suit still sitting there, but he was gone. The electricity was gone from the air as well.
He walked to the beige, modest armchair where the man had been sitting.
All he found instead was a single wildflower he could not identify; five pale orange petals connected by a vibrant red at the center.
Beautiful.
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Originally Posted by hillwalker
