My first four mini-stories

My first four stories in English: After the Dance, At the Train Stop, The Last Firefly, and The Peer of the Dead. I write every day, randomly generating themes in order to build myself up as a write

After the Dance

And as clouds float on the sea, thus floated she in her majestic lonely dance surrounded by the ocean of lights on the scene. No couple could reach her charming vividness. Faraway stars could only be jealous of the Sun, who emanated enough warmth for the living.

Maybe that was the reason why none of them dared to join in her fiery but serene dance in fear of being burnt alive, turned into ashes, devoured by her devastating gravity.

-May I dance with you, Miss? - she heard and suddenly space emerged with chilling cold.

Voice of the ice cracking.

An obscure silhouette. Antimatter willing to balance her heat with its frigid temperature in its probably beating heart.

It was not an invitation to dance - more to duel between heat and cold, the Sun and the Black Hole, life and death.

She slightly nodded with the malicious spark in her eyes, anticipating their dance and the end of the whole world.

They started dancing their dance.

The touch of their fingers. The gaze full of animation. Spark and thriving flame.

The Black Hole feasted on the Sun, devoured her every single devastating ray, balanced out her life with its death while they both slowly melted.

No clue of them was found after the dance.

At the Train Stop

-" Are we still friends? - " I said with a slight sadness in my voice.

The clanking of the rails against the crawling train periodically hit my tumult but still calm mind. And like my mind, calm was the endless sea around us.

The waving skin of the living sea reflected the pink rays of the rising sun, trying to embrace it with all its heat. At least someone wanted to share some warmth even without reciprocation.

He gazed through the window and saw the borderless sea, sometimes passionate, sometimes indifferent, but definitely abundant in colors, and then he scanned the rusting interior.

Stale clanking persisted.

He looked back, trying to find the station where we had first stepped on this means of transportation. After seeing a tiny dot on the horizon, he eventually answered:” Of course...”

The weak sound of a free seagull was getting louder and louder as the next station was growing bigger and bigger.

It was a miracle to see our decaying train managing to cover so much distance.

For a moment the loud cheerful cries of the seagulls supplanted the tortured clanking.

The tired sun reached its zenith.

The stop of the withered train and the creak of the doors similar to the squeaking of mice.

-" Are we still friends? - " now it was my voice that sounded like the clanking of the old train.

Stepping out from my ancient vehicle, he freely cried:” Of course!”

“Of course!” -" repeated the army of free cheerful birds greeting their new crewmate.

Flapping of wide gracious wings above the endless sea, towards the horizon.

The doors creaked once more, and the tortured clanking persisted.

The Last Firefly

In the midway of my mortal life, I found myself in the heart of gloomy woods.

No sunlight could pass through the stony thicket, and the all-encompassing darkness persisted, leaving me with no sight.

Without my eyes, I deliberately searched for any proof that I still lived. But the wind was still. And still was the whole forest. Even my steps on the decaying greenery were completely hushed, devoured by the eternal silence of the inadvertent woods.

Having no eyes and no ears, I inhaled with my widened nostrils but smelled no smell, nor odor of greenery, nor of a stony thicket. More of nothingness, like breathing vacuum.

My only hope lied on the fourth sense, but even the ground seemed to be far away below in the depths of hell. Better suffer in Inferno than question your desensitized existence.

Suddenly, when being about to be devoured by the abyss of mine, something glimmered.

A tiny inviting dot in the distance, refusing to come closer. But even the slightest glow is enough to keep you going through your darkest days.

Could I let myself stay there, in the heart of the gloomy woods?

Finally, I heard my own steps, and the last firefly bothered to come closer.

The cheerful gleam I followed, slowly returning to the world of the living, and the stony thicket eventually quivered under the settling winds.

The last firefly blissfully brought me to the little stream.

The odor of a bakery.

Charmed by its smell I barely distinguished a house nearby.

The last firefly flew into the open dark window and the whole house illuminated with the settling light.

The door opened and the inviting silhouette of a woman appeared.

The homeless wind finally settled.

The Peer of the Dead

Thinking about death, she suddenly felt that she wasn’t all alone in her room: a peer from an outer dimension buried itself in her back.

Memories of gone people were flashing in front of her eyes. Grandparents, father, favorite writers, producers, artists, even some friends - all the memories of them united in this one bone-chilling peer from the past, while there was no one who could comfort her in the present. Even the song she was listening to was the heritage of a young goner -" the case of drugs.

Even the flat she was living in was a piece of art constructed by the probable goners five decades ago.
While thinking about this heritage, the peer from the spiritual world strengthened, went deeper in her bones, like hungry rodents seeking to feast on her inwards.

She shivered.

What was she going to leave behind this world? Was she going to merge with other goners in that strict peer from the other world?

Looking at her writings, she deliberately searched for the answer.

Could she, having her mind full of heritages of the dead present her own one to the borderless world?
The haunting hissing and sizzling joined in the chilling peer of the buried.

These writings of hers, how she wanted to burn them. The thought of their worthlessness, how they were not a part of something big, something that she wished to leave as an inheritance.

She hysterically laughed, - “This? As the heritage?”

And with her laughed the bitter peer of the goners.

At least she didn’t feel alone.

What if you too aren’t all alone?

Author's Note

What do you think about these stories, even though they are short?

Is there enough room to describe the main characters?

What details could be added?

Thank you in advance!