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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2104152-The-Gratitude-List
Rated: 18+ · Short Story · Contest Entry · #2104152
A woman writes a gratitude list in an effort to find something positive about her life.
Written for "No Dialogue Contest-CLOSEDOpen in new Window. with prompt "Autumn or Gratitude" without using any dialogue. I tied for 3rd place in Round 8. "Round 8 Winners"  Open in new Window.

Linda had done it before. She'd written gratitude lists. She had written one in college as a challenge by an instructor--for extra credit. And she'd written one in counselling once. But this time she was doing it for a different reason...desperation. She was searching for a reason, any reason really, to live.

She rummaged through the drawer for a pen, frustration beginning to flare through her nostrils. Finally finding one, she held it tightly in her fist as she went to the table, snatching a tablet off the counter as she did. Flopping down in the kitchen chair, she clicked her pen open and poised to write...but no words flowed.

She stared at the page.

Still nothing.

She began coloring in the corner of the paper briefly, then went back to staring at the emptiness of her life in front of her. Linda had known she had nothing to live for, but had hoped that perhaps she was wrong.

Angry at the lies she told herself, she began writing, as her English teach had taught her in brainstorming, not censoring herself.

Air.

Pause...

Water.

She tapped the paper, knowing there had to be more. Anger and frustration flushed her.

Food.

Chocolate.

She heard Jackson barking in the background.

Jackson.

Maggie for letting me borrow Jackson for evening jogs around the neighborhood.

Linda's grip on the pen began to loosen and the thoughts began to flow more freely.

Maggie just for being such a sweetheart of a neighbor.

Paul, for being the best brother I could ask for.

Having enough money to buy Christmas presents for family and friends.

Having family and friends to buy Christmas presents for.

Christmas.

Christ.

Linda paused again.

My old counselor, Debbie.

She put her pen down, grabbed her phone, and began to dial Debbie's number.


WC 300
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