Escape into Fantasies: A Novelist Experience of Short Stories

By Ericka Rogers

The title is inspired by the author's experiences in life and how she wanted to escape into a world of fantasy. Fantasy, in the opinion of the author, is a highly functioning imagination which includes extremely vivid pictures. In such a fantasy, the imagination can run wild to the point where the mind believes the events are true. The events in the short stories, poems, and or quotes are merely 99% imagination, leaving 1% truth. The title also reflects how the author has reflected on life experiences to the point of how things may have gone or could have occurred from a fantasy perspective. Each collection of short stories may have an alternate ending in a future setting. The words of the title resemble all our needs to leave the reality that we're living in and escape to our alternate world. The fantasy world is one where one can control every aspect and event. The book also represents an urban outlook into the world, which transitions into a cultural shock of limitless possibilities. Some of the limitless possibilities include finding love in taboo interest.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Aug 31, 2022
• ISBN: 9781662487699

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Escape into Fantasies

A Novelist Experience of Short Stories

Ericka Rogers

Copyright © 2022 Ericka Rogers

All rights reserved

First Edition

PAGE PUBLISHING

Conneaut Lake, PA

First originally published by Page Publishing 2022

ISBN 978-1-6624-8765-1 (pbk)

ISBN 978-1-6624-8769-9 (digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Introduction

Untitled He

Understand

Two of A Kind: Forty and Beyond

Try Some White Chocolate

The Sacred, Scared, Scarred Man

The Ride

The Devil Within

Taxicab Murders

Sweet Addiction

Sunshine

Something to Think About

She Meets a Sugary Brown Man: a Forbidden Love

Secrets

Quotes

Life between Deaths

I Don't Know

Me

My Love

One Woman and Two Men

Opposite of Me

American Jungle

Dear, You

A Helpful Thought

I Don't Know

Do I Pose?

Dear Ladies and Gentlemen: Beware of Sympathy Issues in Relationships

Dear, Creator

Day Pass

A Friendly Reminder

Dear Liars,

Endless Beauty

Hunger

Dedicated to the Past, Present, but a Warning to the Future!

About the Author

First and foremost, I thank God for blessing me with the talent to speak or write my mind.

Second, I'm forever in debt to my loving and supportive mother, Toney Rogers; sister, Tabeita

Rogers; and brother, Erick Rogers. I love you all so much.

Introduction

My name is Ericka Rogers; I guess you figured that out when you brought the book or just read it at the store. If you're just reading me for free—put me down; no, I'm just playing. Go purchase me. Anyway, like I was saying; I'm an undergraduate from Loyola University Chicago. I studied in the realm of science—particularly social science, track of psychology. I'm a very diverse person, so that means I'm curious as to what, why, and who's around me. I enjoy all people, music, food, and cultures. I would love to meet all God's children, but I know that's impossible to do in one lifetime. I hope to try though in my travels, and who knows? One of you may be my next topic. Moving on to the book; the stories that I've written, along with letters, poems, poetry, and quotes are collections of personal experiences that I've seen; although they seem real, they are not real, but are fictional representations of what could happen, should happen, or would have happened. That being said or written, I do hope and pray that my thoughts will touch every reader in a way that helps them to get over their humps.

P.S.

The ink has hit the paper.

Ericka Rogers

and

I chose to have a personal message instead of best sellers, advertisements, ratings or thumbs up written on my book. These are: my thoughts, my words, and my designs—and who cares what those well-known sources think? I care about my readers and how you'll interpret my ideas. God bless!

What if, could've, would've, and should've happened?

What if that fatal day didn't happen?

What if June 27 had come much sooner?

What if I had more control over my sweet?

What if I had not been stressed?

What if I had more control over my anger and rage?

What if I had got up that night?

What if I stayed in bed all day?

What if I had prayed more often?

What if I had slept the night away and woke up the next morning with you?

What if I had come to full-term?

Then I could watch you grow!

Then I could teach you right from wrong!

I would have protected you!

I would have loved you with all my heart!

I should have controlled my sweet intake, my frustrations, my anger, and my rage.

I should have stayed in bed, and slept the night away.

I did not do what I could, would, or should have done, but I did experience great moments for three months, and therefore; I'm happy to have known you! Goodbye My Sweet!

Untitled He

He is my deepest regret; the rice that was eaten for nutrient, but didn't settle in the stomach, and therefore was vomited up and left out for weeks which turned into maggots.

He is the undigested waste that curls up in a ball and has agonized his host for weeks, but finally the host pushed him out and moreover, flushed him down the toilet.

He is the point of the needle that pierces your retinal, causing the host excruciating pain. He is the nasty trickster who conquers the host for sexual pleasure.

He has eyes that are blackened with no spot of light, no purity, no compassion, and no warmth.

His soul breathes coldness and begs for darkness to hide who he really is.

He is a person who will say and do anything to get what he wants.

He is but a man, and I'm saddened to have loved him and to have known the untitled he.

Understand

If you want pain from the slightest touch of happiness

If you can't trust your partner and are dealing with insecurities

If you can't communicate in your relationship,

If you can be faithful to an unfaithful person,

If you don't like to cry,

If you pray for your partner to change, but is yet to do something about it,

If words can describe how you feel about your partner,

If your career is more important than your happiness,

If loving someone is more than loving their children: then don't love!

Two of A Kind: Forty and Beyond

Why do you speak to me that way: when I have a gun pointed at your head?

I don't fear you—that's why.

You should!

If you're going to kill me, I wish you would do it already, because I can't stand your annoying voice!

Don't push me, woman!

Susan felt a sharp pain at the right side of her forehead; her eyebrow was spilt open and blood was gushing out moderately running down her face.

Do you fear me now?

You son of a bitch—you wish to torture me, but I'm the one who is going to torture you!

Oh yeah—how? By not fearing me?

"Ha," laughed Susan.

So whom do you fear if not me?

I fear God first and then myself, you nutjob.

You foolish creature—you fear God? I'm in charge—I call the shots, and you're nothing but a foolish pawn in life. You protect me by giving your life, so now it's time for me to collect!

Susan grew angry and started to rock the chair back and forth. When I get my hands on you; you're going to wish you never had the thought to kidnap me, you son of a bitch!

Stop calling me a son of a bitch. I'm not a bitch's son—I'm your worst nightmare.

I really doubt that, wacko.

If you call me one more name; your day is going to end badly.

Oh yeah!

Yeah!

Then tell me your name.

Don't you dare try to get in my head, but I'll tell you: my name is Dr. Linda Poins, and you're Dr. Susan Gosset.

I know who I am—shit, you didn't hit me that hard.

I don't think you know exactly who you are.

What the hell are you talking about, Linda?

I'm talking about my sister—my identical twin sister.

Big fucking deal.

Look, woman, I'm trying to tell you something; now shut the fuck up and listen! I was born October 31, 1980, to the parents of Bill and Dawn Poins. My mother was African American, and my father was European American. They both died in a plane crash when I was six years old. I then moved to Omaha, Nebraska, with my grandparents. Do you know how out of place I felt with two white grandparents as a black child in Omaha fucking Nebraska of all places?

Will you get on with this sad story?

Linda struck Susan in the mouth, knocking her unconscious. That's better—silence is pretty on her. Wake up, Spoiler.

I'm going to rip you limb from limb and feed you to my children for supper.

Damn, you're crazier than I thought you was. Will you actually feed my lifeless body to your children?

No, you wacko, I was saying that for dramatic effect.

Didn't I tell you not to call me out of my name?

I wasn't calling you out your name—I was merely stating the facts this time.

"I guess I could live with that then. Okay, I'll finish my sad story now. My seventh birthday had come and I was having so much fun. I had new friends cheering my birthday song on and on. My grandma had given me a beautiful Barbie doll to play with, along with a crying baby. I took care of the crying baby and Barbie every day. The day was good, but the night was terrifying. It began at midnight—he came into my room with some smooth cream (funny now, I know now it was lotion). He said that Grandma forgot to rub me down after my bath. I felt a weird vibe pass through my body. He then said lie back as he took my nightgown off and placed it on the arm of the chair. I heard a squirt and smacking sound, then felt a cold chill just above my tummy—he was pouring the creamy smooth stuff on my tummy and rubbing it slowly on me. He then rubbed the lotion together and started massaging my chest. Then he slides his index finger down my chest and said, ‘You're going into womanhood and should have a warm welcome.'

I started to tremble as he ran his fingers down to my private area—he placed his whole hand on my stomach and inserted his fingers one by one. I cried out, but then he placed his hand over my mouth and said, ‘don't scream or cry, because you will wake your grandma and she needs her rest.' I closed my eyes and felt a sharp pain in my lower area and the pressure of a heavy body on top of me. My body was rocking back and forth and the pain grew dull—it lasted for ten minutes, but felt like ten years. Every minute felt endless.

Stop please—don't tell me anymore. I don't care. Please be quiet please, shouted Susan.

What, you're getting a soft side for me? Or it could be internal instincts.

What are you talking about—internal instincts? asked Susan.

Linda grew angry with rage and yelled, "You just don't get it,