Mercy: A Short Story Collection

By Kendal Lou Dickson

This short story collection features 10 different fiction stories: Awakening, Lifeline, A Simple Mistake, Broken Promises, Mercy, Rookie Mistake, Past Discretion, It Could Be Worse, Blood Snow, and Unexpected Loss.

 

Awakening: Two cousins take a hunting trip, only to find out there's more than just deer hiding out in the forest.

 

Lifeline: A young man finds himself torn between suicide and a stranger's promises.

 

A Simple Mistake: Inspired by the tragic death of Otto Warmbier, a college trip to Germany goes awry.

 

Broken Promises: A young woman comes home to her boyfriend, finding that her worst nightmare has come true.

 

Mercy: A longtime patient of a psychiatric hospital finds an unlikely ally in a young nurse.

 

Rookie Mistake: Against his best judgment, a teaching assistant decides to bring a student back to his house to sober up.

 

Past Discretion: A woman has to come to terms with her past while dealing with a man she used to know.

 

It Could Be Worse: A waiter decides to text the beautiful girl that left him her number and a hefty tip, which turns out to be possibly the worst decision of his life.

 

Blood Snow: A man flees from king's outpost, abandoning the war, in an attempt to return to his young son.

 

Unexpected Loss: A man's dog is at the veterinarian's office for what is supposed to be a routine procedure when he receives an unnerving voicemail.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kendal Lou Dickson
• Release date: Mar 3, 2019
• ISBN: 9798201092733

Kendal Lou Dickson

Kendal is currently living in Texas. She graduated from the University of North Texas in 2017 with a BA in Creative Writing. She enjoys spending time with her dog and three cats, riding her horses, attending comic cons, and competing in barrel races.

Book preview

Awakening

A heavy fog hangs in the air. Light rain pelts the ground. Thick oak trees line the rocky path that runs adjacent to a shallow stream. The only source of light is being provided by the beams of the full moon. The ground is mushy. Two men, Greg and Josh, canvass the wooded area. They are cousins and roommates. Greg suggested this impromptu hunting trip a few days ago. Midterms start on Monday, but Josh can’t take anymore long nights cooped up in the campus library. He knew if he read one more article about the anti-Semitic elements in The Merchant of Venice he was likely to take a pound of his own flesh. He also needed an escape from his clingy girlfriend, a fashion design major, who does not understand the point of studying for exams or how distracting a flood of text messages can be.

Hey, Josh. I need to take a piss. You go on without me. I’ll catch up, Greg says.

Roger that, Josh says.

Josh walks towards the stream, his old Ariat boots sticking with each step. As he kneels to replenish his water bottle, Bass retreat from the water’s edge. He pulls down his scarf, the cool wind brushes against his bearded face. It stings his cheeks. He checks his watch, 02:14 AM glows on its face. Greg and he have been out in the woods since midnight. They have not seen any deer yet, only their tracks and a few coons. An owl coos in the distance. The night air aches. Josh pulls his wool beanie down tighter on his head, hiding the blonde wisps that were peeking out. He shudders as the wind sneaks under his jacket.

Rustling sounds from across the stream make his heart race. Cautiously, he takes a few short steps back from the edge. He has no time to retreat farther. Hopefully, with the abundant fog Josh will not need more cover. He grabs his Winchester and crouches down. A doe appears, and a smile creeps onto Josh’s face. The winter has been kind to the deer, her body is filled out and fleshy. Drool puddles in his mouth. He can already taste smoked venison. Cradling the barrel with his left hand, Josh presses the butt of his rifle against his shoulder. His body is tense. His finger shakes as it hovers above the trigger. The deer approaches the stream, seemingly unaware of his presence. She lowers her head for a drink.

The brush moves behind the doe. A small fawn, adorned with white speckles, clumsily joins her at the stream. His finger hesitates on the trigger.

***

Josh waited for his mother on the curb in front of his elementary school. His fingers fiddled with an origami crane he had made. The edges of the paper bird were taped down. He did not trust his own folding abilities to prevent the bird from returning to its original state, a square piece of orange construction paper. The sun was beating down on his head. One-by-one he watched his classmates leave with their mothers. He looked at his plastic watch. Fifteen minutes past three. His mother was never late.

A hand touched his shoulder and his face lit up. He looked up, expecting to see his mother’s beautiful face; however, it was his teacher, Miss Butterfield staring down at him. His smile faded. Her pale pink lips were pursed. Behind her stood Josh’s uncle, Jimmy. His eyes wildly dashed from his teacher’s face to his. Uncle Jimmy never picked him up.

Josh, your uncle Jim is here to pick you up today, Miss Butterfield said.

His mouth fell open. His mother never allowed him to spend time with this man, especially unsupervised. She told him it was because he was always busy with work. Josh was only ten, but he knew better. Uncle Jimmy’s son always showed up at family reunions with his arms peppered in purple and blue bruises.

W-where is my mom? he asked.

Miss Butterfield broke eye contact and pulled her hand to her face. An uneasy feeling budded in Josh’s stomach. As stood up, Uncle Jimmy stepped forward. He was a large, stout man that towered over him. He placed his calloused hand on Josh’s shoulder.

I think you two should go somewhere private to talk, she said.

No. T-tell me right now, he said.

Uncle Jimmy squeezed his arm roughly. Josh pushed his hand off, making his face turn red.

She was in a car accident, Uncle Jimmy said.

***

A gunshot rings out. The doe raises her head and looks straight at Josh. She and her fawn bolt. Dammit. He stands up, brushing the mud away from his pants. He lets out a long sigh before taking a sip of water. A howl pierces the night, raising the hairs on Josh’s neck and sending a cold shiver down his spine. He rubs his forearms. Leaves crunch behind him and he turns around. A silhouette of a man is limping towards him. The man’s head is limply resting on his shoulder. His right leg is being dragged to the left. Josh’s squints to see through the fog.

Are you ok? Josh asks.

Slowly the man shambles into the moonlight. It is Greg. Josh’s mouth falls open. Greg’s hand is pressed on his neck, blood seeping through his fingers. There are multiple slashes across his chest and torso. His once hunter green jacket is now deep crimson. Greg’s right foot, now bootless, is contorted sideways. He crumbles to the ground. Josh rushes to him.

Greg! What happened? his voice squeaks.

Josh holds him in his arms, carefully supporting his neck and head. He coughs, and blood spews from his chapped lips. His breaths are heavy.

I think I ran into a bear, I don’t know. One second I was standing, the next something knocked me down and was on top of me... I shot it, but it didn’t die... it just ran off and I came to find you, he says.

What? How? Josh’s eyes wildly intake his surroundings. Did it follow him here? Are we in danger? He tries to speak, but nothing comes out. Panic paints his face. Another ghastly howl shrieks in the wind and Greg’s eyes widen. He wildly scans their surroundings.

Josh... Josh, I need you to focus. We need to get out of here, he says.

Josh’s eyes fall back to him. Greg’s hazel