Tales of the Heart


Tales of the Heart

Logan Johnson

Published by Logan Johnson at Shakespir

Copyright 2017 Logan Johnson

Shakespir Edition, License Notes

This is a collection of short stories written and copyrighted by Logan Johnson.

Thank you for downloading this ebook. This ebook, however, remains the copyrighted property of the author. As such, it may not be redistributed by anyone for commercial or non-commercial purposes. However, if you enjoyed reading this book, then please recommend it to friends so that they may enjoy it as well. Thank you very much for your support.

Table of Contents

Title Page


Table of Contents



Quiet Betrayal

Author Bio

Logan Johnson is an aspiring game writer who spends his free time practicing his writing skills and thinking of new ideas for new stories.


I sat as close to the window as possible, watching as cars passed by, one-by-one. It felt like I was watching a camera flash as each car drove by, with their headlights shining so brightly. I eventually turned towards the man who had stopped to provide me with a ride, who was seemingly focused on the road. The smell of cigarettes and exhaust mixed together with each breath I took, but I had begun to learn how to tolerate the pungent odor. Eventually, the sight of the passing cars began to lull me toward slumber, and the world began to turn black as my eyelids fell. I woke as the driver got back into the truck, slamming the door to ensure it would remain shut, the rich aroma of coffee becoming apparent, only to mix with the odor of exhaust and cigarettes. I was startled as he handed me a cup of coffee with a smile, and even more so when he said that I need not repay him for it. I graciously accepted the coffee and took a sip from the cup, the warm beverage reviving me.

I remember that he then asked again about where I had wanted to go. I told him about how I wanted to go to Kankakee, Illinois, and where in Kankakee I wanted to go to. He smiled when I told him where I wanted to go to in Kankakee, and why I wanted to go there, and so we set off again.

Despite the caffeine from the coffee, I strangely felt exhausted nonetheless, and so I soon drifted back to sleep. I remember waking up to the sudden screech of tires on the pavement, and the sound of shattering glass, followed by slivers of pain throughout my body. Before I could look around, my world turned black briefly. When I next came to, I could feel the heat of fire, and I looked behind me, only to see the truck I had been in completely obliterated. My vision was far too blurred for me to see the cause of destruction, but when I looked forward, I felt my heart pound and my vision return as I realized I was laying far in front of where I had wanted to go. My eyes then shifted slightly and I noticed that my backpack remained completely intact, and my heart pounded harder.

I reached forward to grab my backpack, and managed to weakly grab it by a handle. I then crawled forward, attempting to reach the location, planning to keep my promise no matter what. Even as my arms began to feel numb, even as my body ached, even as my heart pounded nonstop, I crawled forward. I was a few feet away from the entrance when a flood of people came bursting out of it, stretchers and other medical equipment in tow. They were clearly startled when they saw me, more so when they saw the trail of red along the grass that I had left in my wake. Some rushed to my sides, while the rest rushed towards the wreckage of the truck. I lifted my head, which felt almost weightless, and let what little breath I had left escape my lips. My final word echoing throughout my head as I lifted up my backpack, and fell into the darkness: “Please.”

I woke up to find his backpack in the once-empty chair beside my bed, and I immediately grabbed it and opened it. Inside was a small box that held a beautiful necklace, a framed picture of him and me standing side-by-side, smiling brightly, and a box of my favorite candy. I almost did not see the note left along with the backpack, and I recognized the writing of my nurse instantly. I felt overcome with sadness as I read the note, and realized that his backpack and his gifts were all I had left of him. My best dearest friend, my closest friend, was gone forever.


Cynthia sat on the edge of one of the beds, inhaling the thick odor of mildew that lingered within the air. The carpet felt brittle on her bare feet, and the walls were riddle with small holes and large stains. It was not long before a man came through the door, a key to the door of the hotel room in hand, and a battered briefcase in his other hand.

“One of those days again Jim?” Cynthia said, raising her eyebrow as she looked towards the man. She absent-mindedly clutched onto the edges of the bed while waiting for a response. “Yes dear, another one of those days.” He says, emphasizing the “dear” and mockingly attempting to mimic her as he said the last part.

“Oh, don’t start with that today,” Cynthia said to him. “Can we not have a nice, relaxing day for once?” She asks, her voice weakening as she says the last part.

“Don’t you dare talk to me like that!” Jim snaps at Cynthia as he walks towards her, raising his hand as if he was about to slap her. Cynthia flinched and curled up slightly, raising her arms in an attempt to defend herself. After a few seconds pass, she lowers her arms upon realizing that Jim had lowered his hand, breathing a sigh of relief that he did not hit her.

“I’m sorry Jim, I just really want to have a relaxing day.” Cynthia states quietly, seemingly being cautious as she speaks.

“Sure, whatever Cynthia, just be quiet and relax then.” Jim states as he runs his right hand through his hair. He then places his briefcase on his bed, which was separated from Cynthia’s bed by a nightstand. Jim then proceeds to open the briefcase, revealing a handgun, two gold lockets, three gold pocket watches, and five silver rings. “How long do you need to wait before selling those this time?” Cynthia asks absent mindedly as she gazes towards the glass door, trying to find something interesting outside.

“It is none of your business Cynthia.” Jim snaps at her as he puts on gloves, grabs his handgun and cleans the outside of the gun. He then places the handgun back into the briefcase and pulls out a handkerchief from his pocket. He then picks up each piece of jewelry and the pocket watches and places them in the middle of the open handkerchief, and proceeds to wrap the handkerchief up and places it within the briefcase.

“Whatever you say Jim, whatever you say.” Cynthia says absentmindedly as she stands up and reaches into a pocket on her pants. She then pulls her hand back out and walks over to the glass door, leaning against it so that she may have a better view of the outside. She does not even flinch as the door is suddenly kicked open and men wearing bullet-proof vests and holding handguns storm into the room and surround Jim.

“Cynthia! What is this?” Jim shouts to her, his face turning red and his eyes bulging as the men around him puts his hands behind his back and put handcuffs on him. “This is justice my dear Jim.” Cynthia says, not turning away from the window as she pulls out a walkie talkie from her pocket and drops it onto the ground.

“You betrayed me Cynthia!” Jim shouts as the men begin to drag him away to the door, despite his resistance. “You betrayed me Jim, and now the bell has tolled for thee.” She states from her position, not moving, not even to wipe away the single tear that rolled down her cheek as she smiled.

Quiet Betrayal

Fredrick stood in his living room, with two large garbage bags in hand, and removed a torn-up painting from his wall. He threw the painting into the nearly full garbage bag, sighing as he did so. He then tied up the now-full garbage bag and set it aside.

Just then, Gezard, Fredrick’s best friend, came bursting in through the front door and slammed it behind himself. “Fredrick, what are you doing man? We need to get out of here, not clean up!” Gezard said loudly to his comrade. “Why must you be so impatient my good fellow?” Fredrick says as he simply begins to pull down the other painting from the wall and put it inside of the garbage bag with less of a load inside. “I realize that we were hired only to do the assassination, but a good assassin must try to eliminate the evidence.”

“Well, forgive me for wanting to remain free and become filthy rich.” Gezard states with a slight snarl in his voice. “We are getting paid big-time for this job, and I don’t want to get caught before we get paid.”

“Have we been caught yet my dear chum? No, we have not, and that is because I always handle the ‘tidy’ work, while you handle the ‘messy’ work.” Fredrick states calmly. “After all, you are too much of a hot-head to be able to handle the jobs that I do.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Gezard snaps back to his comrade, gripping the knife in his belt tightly. “You’re lucky that I need you for these jobs, or else I would cut you down right here!”

“Oh, is that so Gezard? I thought it was I who needed you still.” Fredrick states just before throwing a dagger into Gezard’s throat. The blade easily pierces through the thin skin of his neck and buries itself to the hilt.

Gezard lurches back and reaches for his throat, desperately grasping for air. He reaches out for Fredrick, rage burning within his eyes as he tries to speak. However, only gurgling noises are heard as blood builds up within his neck via the wound.

“Cheer up Gezard, now you can leave. Only, you will be leaving this realm, not just this location.” Fredrick states with a sickeningly genuine smile as he grabs the dagger and swiftly removes it from Gezard’s neck. “Oh, and before I forget, do you mind taking the fall for this murder we committed?” Fredrick states as Gezard attempts to speak and to grab Fredrick by the neck, presumably to choke him to death.

“You don’t? Well now isn’t that just splendid!” Fredrick states as he stands upright and puts carefully pulls out the blade used to commit the assassination, and places them near Gezard. Fredrick then pulls out a gun. Fredrick smiles as he grabs a pillow and smothers the gun barrel with it and pulls the trigger. He then grabs the bullet from within the pillow and places the gun in the assassination victim’s hand, wrapping the victim’s finger around the trigger. He then walks over to Gezard, who is still struggling for life, and kneels besides him. He compares the bullet to the dagger wound and smiles as he pulls out the throwing dagger to increase the size of the wound until the bullet fits through perfectly. “Well, my good chum, it is time for us to part ways.” Fredrick states with a smile as he puts the bullet through the open wound and stands up. He dusted himself off and grabs the garbage bags. He then proceeds to walk out the back door and to climb into his vehicle and drive away.

I deeply appreciate you reading my book I put together. If you found it enjoyable, please suggest it to friends or family so that word of this book can spread.

Thank you very much.

Logan Johnson

Tales of the Heart

  • Author: Logan Johnson
  • Published: 2017-08-25 16:20:09
  • Words: 2054
Tales of the Heart Tales of the Heart