Margaret Draper
Stories (17/0)
Reality Ends
Coming home, I collapsed on the couch. Pain is like a knife cutting deep inside me. It was one of those moments where I could sit and watch the spruce branches dance on the breeze, staring without really seeing. How can the one person you love more than anything say to you something so thoughtless and hurtful? Can it be really be true that you, as a person, have no worth except for what you weigh in the monetary scales?
By Margaret Draper13 days ago in Families
The Last Trip
As our eyes met, I remember last Autumn. Being empathic individuals, we both knew the end was coming soon. You had never been afraid of the vet in your entire life. There was no reason at all for you to be shaking like a leaf for so long after we left the office. Like all dark and hurtful thoughts, I pushed it dismissively out of my mind.
By Margaret Draper7 months ago in Critique
Mission to Munster
The views and opinions expressed in this story are solely that of the author, unless stated otherwise. It was a beautiful fall day at Thorpe Abbott RAF airbase. Ground and buildings got smaller as the gigantic B-17, Royal Flush, slowly climbed to its cruising altitude. Looking out of the cockpit, Robert, "Rosie" Rosenthal's thoughts turned once more to the early morning briefing. This mission was different than the last two, as the target was going to be civilians. He and the crew were tired. This was the third straight mission in as many days. Schweinfurt and Bremen had been extremely stressful. The number of casualties and fighter planes were both high. "Penny for your thoughts," aske Winifred "Pappy" Lewis, Rosie's Copilot. "Just thinking about today's mission," Rosie answered. "This is the first time we're going to bomb civilian targets." "That's ok," Pappy answered." "The Grouts have taken enough of our boys. They've got what's coming to them. Anyway, any sign of our fighter escort? We're already across the Channel, half way to the Baltic." "Nothing yet, but they're probably just delayed, Rosie replied."
By Margaret Draperabout a year ago in Fiction
Lessons from Marcus
Facebook had a blurb, Who Would You Talk to for 15 Minutes That Are Departed? There are so many people that come to mind. My parents, who have been gone for many years now. A friend who took his life and left way too soon. The best companion and friend I've ever had. He had four legs and stood beside me through life's ups and downs for 13 years. There's questions I want to ask. Feelings and thoughts I left unsaid. How do you choose just one person? You, Marcus, are the one person that has gone through everything I have had to endure. Death, suffering, self-sacrifice, and betrayal were all losses that you faced at one time or the other.
By Margaret Draper2 years ago in Humans
Samhain
Sitting languidly in the esthetican's chair, I try my best to muster some interest in the small talk of the woman doing my nails. Worthless, stupid humans; their short meaningless lives and pointless endeavors always repulse me. Unfortunately, I've learned I have to do at least a few daily activities like them to blend in. As well as there's the small matter of sustaining one's self, ie grocery shopping, paying bills, and other day to day matters. Living as long as I have, money isn't an issue. But do I want to spend my day hilling potatoes in a garden? Decidedly not! I considered having house staff, but things are just a little different than they were three hundred years ago. Not only are humans smarter and more well-informed thanks to technology, there tends to be a large outcry when one is found dead in an alley. Disposing of the maid when she's seen or heard something she shouldn't have poses all kinds of headaches. Much as I detest it, I take one day a week and look after my penthouse myself.
By Margaret Draper3 years ago in Fiction