Katie Healy
Bio
Aspiring film maker
Stories (4/0)
Unspoken Hardships
The bells can be heard from several miles away. They echo loudly through the streets of a tiny town, each ring followed immediately by another. Fine people in fine clothing rush towards the chimes, followers answering the call of a master. The sun light forces itself through the stain glass windows inside the white church. The son straightens his tie as he walks through the front door, his mother trailing behind him. He pauses and waits for her while she hangs up her coat and scarf.
By Katie Healy6 years ago in Families
Unpaid Parking Meters
The fifth gunshot was still ringing in the hallway rafters when they latched the stall door shut behind them. He’d never been in the girl's bathroom at the high school before and she hadn't seen him since his family stopped coming to church. It wasn’t uncommon to go months without seeing someone at their school given the number of students that attended. He was surprised that she wasn’t crying. He remembered the day at church when he saw her crying in the pew across from his. He had tried not to stare that day but he couldn’t help but notice the way she tried so hard to stifle her tears and the way her parents remained straight-faced the entire mass.
By Katie Healy6 years ago in The Swamp
The Force of a Thousand Trains
One evening in March on my walk home, I was stopped by a moving train, crossing the road just before the parking lot of my apartment. It was the sunniest 5:30PM this town had seen in months. As the train moved along the tracks, the setting sun on the horizon shone through the breaks in the box cars. Sometimes, on my walks through the city, I get an idea for a sentence or an entire story and I rush home, repeating the idea over and over in my head so I don’t forget it before I can write it down. On this day I had no ideas to hurry home for, just an empty stomach that made me anxious to get past the train.
By Katie Healy6 years ago in Humans
Men Left Alone
He could remember when he was young, his father dressed him on Mondays and Wednesdays. He dressed himself Tuesdays and Thursdays, and on Fridays, they compromised. He hated Wednesdays the most because he would be sent to school in a baggy T-shirt or a sweatshirt with the name of a sports team he didn’t care about and he had football practice in the evenings. His father had encouraged him to join the peewee football team so he could make friends with the boys his age. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to make friends, he just didn’t like talking to the boys on his football team because they never seemed to like talking about things that he wanted to talk about. Eventually, he stopped speaking during practices and games. Although they were young boys, the games were long and the practices were too. It was a very long time for a person to be silent for. He knew this but, eventually, he stopped noticing.
By Katie Healy6 years ago in Families