Katherine

a little short story I wrote based on my own thoughts :)

There was an old abandoned house next to the graveyard. About a century ago, the house had been a parsonage to an old Catholic church. But that church burned down in 19something, leaving only the farmhouse, the graveyard, and bad memories.
Katherine liked to roam the old graveyard. Even though she knew it was technically a cemetery, since the church was gone, she still called it a graveyard in her head. She would roam among the headstones, reading the names that could still be read and feeling for the letters of the names that she couldn’t. Katherine couldn’t wrap her head around the fact that the people in the ground underneath her feet had once been living, breathing human beings. And she definitely couldn’t fathom that one day, she would be under the same cold, hard ground, with just a granite headstone to remember her.
Sometimes Katherine would dare herself to go into the old parsonage. But when she was on the threshold of the front door, she always hesitated. She would change her mind, and back off the porch, walking quickly to the safety and familiarity of the graveyard.
There was one grave in that graveyard that always intrigued Katherine. The name on the headstone read:

Ana Luaya Fencher
Born July 31, 1897
Died February 18, 1914


Ana Fencher, whoever she was, had the same birthday Katherine did, and was Katherine’s age when she died: 16 years.
On February 18, Katherine forgot about Ana Fencher. She had a world history unit test that day, and her life had been consumed on getting a one hundred percent. While her parents weren’t strict with grades, Katherine was obsessed with things being perfect. So after her test (she had gotten a 99.5 percent on it, and she was pissed), she went to her graveyard-since no one else knew it existed, Katherine thought of it as hers-to calm down. She decided to take a risk and step inside the parsonage. Even if she didn’t walk all the way through, she promised herself she would at least get past the threshold.
So, that’s how she ended up here. Standing in the doorway of the old farmhouse that used to be a parsonage, staring into the darkness and secrets within.
Anxiety fills Katherine. She’s never been a bold girl, just someone who was perfect with the way things were. Then, as though someone grabbed her by the collar of her shirt and pulled her forward, Katherine steps into the old abandoned house.
There was dusty furniture covered by dusty sheets. Dead insects litter the floor, and the heat is suffocating. Katherine realizes no one has stepped inside this house for decades, maybe even half a century. She is the first living person to walk these floorboards in a long, long time.
The kitchen is at the back of the house, and sunshine tilts through the broken window above the farmhouse sink. Katherine thinks the kitchen is boring, so she turns the corner and finds a large flight of stairs.
It’s as if a string is attached to her breastbone, drawing her forward every step of the way, all the way up to the
landing. An old Victorian style chair sits in the corner, and a clawfoot nightstand stands, exhausted, next to it. Katherine pauses for a moment, then turns and travels up the remainder of the staircase.
At the tippity-top of the stairs is a dusty, spotted mirror. Katherine stops before it, looking her reflection in the eyes. She doesn’t think much of herself; she has wavy dirty blonde hair and a face most would call pretty. She usually wears a skirt and a sweater, but today she is stressed out, so she is dressed in jeans, a t-shirt, and a corduroy jacket.
Still looking herself in the eyes, Katherine remembers something: today is February 18, the day Ana Fencher, her twin from another time, died. And while Katherine remembers this, she also realizes something: she is beautiful. She has her own lifestyle, her own routines, that make her anything but normal. Even though she feels plain, she is perfect in her own imperfections.
With these two realizations, Katherine feels guilty. She has thought about no one but herself for the past few years. She has judged and stood to the side while others were pushed to the ground. She realizes, everyone is beautiful. Whether they’re male or female, or they identify as neither or both, whether they’re Christian or Muslim, American or Indian, everyone is beautiful. Everyone looks different, but without difference, what would we be? Without differences, would we even be human?
Katherine no longer feels the pull she felt before. She presses a hand to the mirror, and her reflection copies her. Then, she turns around slowly and walks out of the house, savoring every step of the way.

Author's Note

Hey, this is my first short story. I hope you liked it.
Please ignore any spelling/grammar problems you notice. I was typing this up on my phone, so I didn’t have the best keyboard. I probably missed some stuff while I was reading through.
Anyways, I hope you have a great day. This story was inspired by my fascination of different lifestyles, and the fact that we will all be in the cold, hard ground someday, forgotten like the abandoned parsonage.

((The file chosen for this cover image is not mine. I did not create it, nor did I have any part in creating it. All credit goes to the original creaters. No copyright infringement intended.))

Reviews

[Vivian Fisk]

It's a lovely first short story. You have very good descriptive style.

Ana has somehow pulled Katherine to the house to give her the gifts of empathy and self-love on the anniversary of her death, a sort of bequest; and Katherine, when she presses her hand to the mirror, seems to accept the gifts and feel Ana leaving her and saying good-bye.

The premise, as far as I understand it, is beautiful and clear. I think if it were all in the past tense it could be more clear. It's a gentle story and can handle the more passive feel of past tense.

[ardor]

ahh thanks so much for the feedback!! I really appreciate it