Random Thoughts

By Ruth Pettite

This collection has no theme, no genre, and no sense of place. The title Random Thoughts brings out the ideas within author Ruth Pettite's head, collecting two of her prize winning short stories. Step inside a world of no recollection or reason with Ruth and enjoy these fast paced stories from her world.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ruth Pettite
• Release date: Jun 10, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476016146

Ruth Pettite

Ruth has been writing for over 15 years. Her works have been featured on Lulu Poetry and on Blogspot. As an author, Ruth went through rigorous events that pushed further into the art, including many years of thinking she would never make it. Her first short story collection, "Random Thoughts," has been collaborated over the past year. Selling on www.wordclay.com, Ruth has put together several humorous and sad stories Starting off with a few short words and a dare, Ruth developed the knack for putting together short stories with memorable characters, real life situations, and work that will make you smile when you are done. Ruth lives in Nevada, where she has obtained her degree in Business Management. With her domestic partner and five boys, Ruth makes sure to find the time to keep the pen rolling and the pages turning.

Book preview

Random

Thoughts

A collection of short stories

Ruth Pettite

Copyright 2011 by Ruth Pettite

A Smashwords Publication

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At My Fingertips

Chapter One

I never saw a sunrise as dim as was the morning that everything began to run downhill for me. I wanted to reach out and twist it like a bulb, see if I could get more wattage out of it. But the sun was dreary, and I knew in my gut there was nowhere to turn for a brighter side of the day.

When the alarm clock rang that morning, I wanted to just roll over and pretend it didn’t exist. My green eyes were not ready for the light of the day, and my blonde hair in its tatters said it was going to take more than a simple brushing for it to cooperate. But there it was regardless, and like my body knew what I thought, I rolled away from the alarm and was soon sound asleep.

My body had an internal alarm clock though. I shot out of bed realizing the time. I pulled back the curtain to see the dim bulb rising in the east. Shit, I mumbled as my feet tried to find solid grounding. Stumbling, I made it to the bathroom and attempted to do something with the bird’s nest on top of my head. Finally finishing the fight, I threw it up on the back of my head. Messy but classy. I dabbed on some eyeliner, slapped my cheeks a few times, and rushed into some clothes for work.

I remembered why I had been so tired that morning. The baby had gotten up at four. He was ready to play and watch TV and had to go potty. It took an hour of negotiations with the almost three year old to get him to go back to sleep. When I had, it was almost time for the alarm to start going off anyway. I should’ve stayed up. That’s all there is to it.

But it didn’t matter now. I was late for work, and that’s what mattered. Exhausted, strung out, and late for work. I wanted so bad just to curl back in bed, but I had got rid of my sick days the month before. Fidgeting with the keys was normally a simple task to get the engine running in my van. That day though, it seemed like an awful task to ever happen to a person.

At the office, the other staff members were bustling about as they always did. I managed to avoid most of them with a nod and slight smile, getting to the lounge before I was really seen by anyone of importance. I made my coffee and dug through my locker. I knew that somewhere in there was the last of my energy pills. I just had to find them or there was not going to be a survival of the fittest for me that day. I was going to be the last of the kind left laying down, not standing by any means.

Downing the ju-ju beans, I washed them away with what was very shortly realized a cold cup of java. I choked it down though, and made a fresh pot. I think even the coffee maker had more energy than I did, giving off its blurbs and gurgles as the black goodness flowed in the carafe. I watched the liquid run into the pot and realized its smoothness. It had a purpose; a flow that it knew was the only way to work, the only way to accomplish its reason for being.

I understood this for a moment, or at least I thought I did. I wanted to be the coffee, with a reason, a purpose for being. Better yet, I needed to be that with my life laid before me at my fingertips. The sad part was my dreams were at my fingertips. I just couldn’t reach far enough to grab them. I saw them everyday when I opened my screen to work at the office and at home. The grass was truly greener on my screen and I knew it was. I couldn’t seem to figure out how to get there.

But here I was, working and wasting away in a go nowhere job that didn’t pay my bills. I knew that I was sinking and I knew the world was working against me to get going. The lights were fixing to be cut off, and any day now I was going to lose my only means of transportation to get to work. Then it happened. The one thing I had dreaded all of my life, and the doctors had told me to expect it anytime, anyplace.

Chapter Two

The pain in my shoulder was incredible. Never before had I felt something like it before. Then there was the chest heaving. I felt like someone had strapped a vice around my torso and was intensely squeezing the thing until my eyes popped from their sockets. It was unbearable, and the next thing I knew I was strapped to a gurney and in the back of a meat wagon.

Someone in the office had called the paramedics when I hit the ground apparently. I don’t really quite remember what the ordeal was. I just knew it hurt… a lot. My mind had been made up for me telling me that this was the end. I saw my children before my eyes, their births, their marriages. I saw my life flash before my eyes with it, kind of split screen type ordeal. I wanted so bad to reach out and grab those memories and hold onto them before they left me forever.

I kept hearing people around me. They were talking, calling my name, asking me what day it was and who I was. Any normal day I would have told them without missing a beat, You’re saying my name and you want me to tell you what it is? Of course that would be the natural