Legacy Collection: Free Short Stories From my Student Years
This collection features pieces I wrote during my college years for writing assignments. A few of these stories are ones I’m genuinely proud of: built around ideas I loved and written with everything I had. Others? Well… they were turned in because deadlines exist and grades were on the line. Either way, they each mark a step in my growth as a writer. I’m sharing them here as a way to honor where it all started.
Content Warning: This story contains depictions of physical violence, including hand-to-hand combat, choking, and brief but intense scenes of injury. Reader discretion is advised.
Adelaide startled awake at the pain in the back of her head. Her eyes flew open to darkness, but she didn’t need light to know they’d thrown her in some old shack of a jail.
The stench of old piss clung to the dirt under her face. Someone rolled over and muttered in his sleep nearby. She heard the barest sound of quiet conversation—probably a pair of guards—coming from the door cracked nearby. The dim glow filtering around the door’s edges was the only source of light.
She sat up and massaged the back of her head, her surroundings coming into focus. A sleeping man lay on the other side of a wall of iron bars, the occasional snore disturbing the quiet. That was a relief.
Adelaide patted her vest and trouser pockets, but everything was gone: her coat, her satchel and all the jewelry she’d stolen, and even the knife she hid in her boot. A dank chill ran through her blood.
When her fingers found the secret pocket sewn into her lapel, she relaxed. A wry smile turned her mouth. They hadn’t taken everything.
She tore open the seam and withdrew the lock picking tools; they saved her countless times before. She slid her hands through the latticed bars and inserted her picks into the lock on the other side.
Picking the lock from this angle was hard enough, but at least everything around her was quiet. She held her breath, making slight adjustments with every sound at her fingertips. Her arms ached as she worked. Sweat gathered at her scalp. She pressed her face against the bars, thankful for the cool metal. The refreshing chill it sent down her spine crept into her fingers, revitalizing their deftness.
A satisfying click and the lock gave.
The guards quieted in the next room when the gate creaked louder than she anticipated. The other prisoner stirred from his slumber, mumbling in confusion. Adelaide crept out of her cage and flattened herself to the wall next to the door. A guard opened it, hand flying to the gun at his hip when he saw the open cell.
She clapped her hands over his ears, disorienting him. Before he could make a sound, she had her arms locked around his throat. He struggled, but she tightened her hold until his body went limp.
His head barely touched the ground before the other guard’s fist connected with her jaw. She stumbled and swore. She ducked under his next punch and shoved her hand between his legs, grabbing him by the balls and giving a sharp twist.
The guard cried out and his knees buckled. Adelaide let him fall before placing her hands on either side of his skull and ramming her knee into his face. He slid from her fingers, a small cloud of dust rising when he hit the floor.
She cracked open the door, glad to see the sun had gone down. It would be cold without her coat and disappointing without her bag of stolen jewelry, but she couldn’t waste time looking for them. She shut the door behind her and prayed she could find a horse.
For more on this story, I invite you to see what my classmates had to say about it in my post The Best and Worst of Critique Comments #2. More modern-day reflections on craft and the process behind writing this piece are in Reflections on Writing “Jailbird.”
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