Chekhov Imitation Piece

figured i’d go the easy way by writing all 50k in short stories 😀 they have novels with all short stories don’t they! muhahahha 😀 ok, this probably cheating, but that’s alright; this is more for fun anyway!


Shortly after dinner, Mitchell Evans suggested they go out for a walk. It was a beautiful evening for a walk. The summer heat had just past, and the cool wind blows lightly, cradling the trees in its arms. The lake before them was a still reflection of the sky above them, and the round moon that peeked early that night. Lauren Perry stood by the water, and watched the rare wrinkles in the satin blue. Her pink chiffon dress was semi-transparent, complete with ruffles and bows. In the soft moon light, she turned and looked at him with her honey-dew eyes. She clasped her hands over her mouth and whispered:

“Do you love me?”

He pointed towards the muddy trail huddled between the tall pine trees, and said:

“C’mon, let’s take that road.”

She looked down at her pointy white shoes. Then she looked up at him and obeyed.

Lauren Perry walked beside him in silence. She had snuck her hand under his arm and into his pocket. He could smell sweet apple cinnamon in the strands of auburn hair and under the folds of her scarf. Mitchell thought to himself how he didn’t know where this road led to and how just by being next to her, he didn’t care. He knew he probably already overstayed his welcome at her house, and should return home as soon as possible, but he just couldn’t bring himself to leave. He was puzzled, just as the other men before him, he found himself clinging onto Lauren more than Lauren to him.

“Your shoes, they are wet,” she declared.

He lifted his right leg and mud dripped off the side of his leather shoe.

She giggled with obvious pleasure, and whispered into her hands:

“You were standing in a puddle!”

He asked:

“Why do you do that?”

“Do what?” she asked.

“Do -” he held up her hands, “why do you whisper?”

She blinked, her curious eyes widened. A sudden loss of interest, and he shook his head:

“Never mind.”

Some time past and neither of them said anything. Mitchell pushed up the sleeve of his shirt and exposed the watch on his wrist. It had a silver face plate with brown leather, weathered with age. The second hand has long stopped working, and the minute hand always ran late. The only thing he could read accurately was the hour of day. He wondered why did he ever buy a watch of such poor quality, and then he remembered that his first serious girlfriend bought it for him as an anniversary gift. It was the cheapest present he has ever received, costing only about thirty dollars, but for some reason he kept it all these years.

“It’s late; do you want to go back? Your mother is probably worried,” he said.

Lauren Perry stood there in silence. Her white shoes are now covered with mud, filthy and wet; nothing like the condition they were in this morning, fresh and prim in the box. A ribbon on her dress came undone, and her sleeve slid off, exposing her right shoulder, soft and smooth, glimmering in the moon light. Mitchell fumbled to fix her dress, trying to redo the ribbon with his fat fingers and clumsy hands. Suddenly she started laughing; her laughter was crisp and clear, like bells echoing in his ears.  She clasped her hands around his ears and whispered:

“You love me.”

Chekhov Imitation Piece

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