Wed 4 Feb, 2004 04:19 pm
This thread is for the short story writers out there to present new work, spontaneous flights of fancy, or works in progress. All genres and styles are welcome. The short story is one of my favorite literary forms, and I admire the compression it demands. Post away folks, I know there is plenty of mondo talent here.
I will come back with an offering of my own a bit later, when inspiration hits.
Cav, you should ask Asherman to post his many short stories. They are gems.
Hide and seek?
Intending merely a fresh air jaunt around the lawn, I began to stalk my daughter. Over the fence rail, down to the pasture. But I had to stay upwards the hill, for a tree wide enough to hide me. She swung on down, faster and faster... where the slope began to level at the brook.
I saw him then. A slight built guy, hanging close to the willow trunk. She definitely walked toward him- but hesitated as she was in eye contact.
I couldn't hear their words, and there was not a lot of gesturing. She just stood there, stiffly- and he suddenly sat down on the mossy bank. I thought I saw him motion for her to sit, but If he did, it was ignored. She stood.
I was weary of standing too. Leaning did not help much, so I tried to sit down- keeping myself as hidden as possible.
Why was my kid- my little girl, here- down at a creekside talking to a guy, when she was supposed to be in her room upstairs, homeworking?
I decided to spy anyway.
She was disobedient, so I am nosey.
Reaching into his trousers, he handed something toward her that was shiny. The sun caught it's brilliance and it winked like a mirror signal.
Glory stepped toward him just enough to reach out and grasp it. Then she began trudging back up the hill. He yelled to her. I could hear that.
"Hey, don't go, don't go yet" he shouted. She just got faster. I was peering with all my might, trying to see what was in her hand; but she had too much of it hidden.
Quickening her youthful stride, she was getting too close for me to move to another hiding place.
Well, I'll just stare her down, I thought- this is my ground too.
Glory pulled even with my tree, mouth agape and eyes wide. "Why are you here?" "I might ask you the same, young lady," I rasped out.
She smiled at me weakly, and turned to run toward our house. "Oh wouldn't you like to KNOW," she squealed. And I saw the shiny locket hanging from a chain, dangling as she ran.
"Oh God", I sighed- moving back toward the kitchen, "to be 10 again!"
Only one story captured, cavfancier.
I thought about writing one myself, but I do not see any interest in the topic.
It's a shame really, for I read this days ago, and thought it was a good idea. I keep coming back to see if you or anyone wrote anything-
but alas, I read where you were somewhat ill.
Hope you are lots better soon, and better luck with some other topic.
(liked your anecdote, jackie)
theollady, some topics last here on a2k for years. This one will probably develop over time. It'll be a place for all of us to think of placing our short stories.
The bird sailed over the barn and disappeared from view. I stared at the barn for a second, then leaned down to concentrate on my putt.
theollady, I expect this thread will go slowly, but I don't intend to let it go. I'll be posting an offering later tonight, and may PM a few people to join in. Had a couple large caterings this week, so I haven't popped in. So, gustav, what happens next, does the bird crap on your balls? Gustav concentrated on his swing. Staring down he thought "tee....fore!!" Must be tax time.
That was the complete story, Cav. A "slice of life" if you may. I thought that I conveyed in very few words the entire gamut of human emotion.
Read it again.... it will inspire you.
A slice of life. A sleight of air. A sliver of light. A slice to the left.....
Ahhhh, you understand, Osso. I always thought you were a sharp old bird.
Edgar, that was a pretty dark story you wove there.
Kind of reminded me of a cross between Phillip Dick and Thomas M. Disch.
Your story was quite interesting also, gus.
Edgarblythe, this is very good writing- keeps the reader CAPTURED- to know what is going to happen next!
[I do sincerely hope that MOST of our youth have not gone this far, for it is a very hopeless picture you paint with words.]
gus, many "motions" distract the golfer. Your little story ENLARGES that fact.
Quoting Red Skelton: I calls 'em the way I sees 'em.
Good story Edgar, it holds you until last line. Your story is reminiscent of some of Stephen King's work.
Gus, as always, your stories inspire me.
Jackie, I like your story.
Thank you, colorbook. I never know how one of my efforts will be recieved.