There was a tiny snail (or so he felt inside), who climbed along the garden wall in silence every day. Without fail there came along an angry boy each day, bitter and irate for reasons the snail could only guess. Each day the boy was just the same: he would pluck the tiny snail from the wall and toss him to the ground with a laugh and a sneer. And each morning for a long time, the snail slowly crawled back up the wall once more in hopes that when the new day rose he would reach the sunlight that only reached the highest parts of that wall.
As time wore on the little snail grew more weary as the frustration of never quite reaching the light of day began to weigh upon him. Every day the angry boy would return, his tongue all aflame with bitter words, and the little snail would find himself hurled once again to the ground so far below, where he would land with a painful thud. But one day, something changed in the world and the little snail could no longer bring himself to try.
When the angry boy returned to taunt the little snail, his face contorted in a strange fury when he saw that the snail had not begun to crawl up the wall again. Instead he had stayed just where the boy had thrown him down the day before. The angry boy cursed and spat, and very nearly crushed the little snail with his gigantic shoe, but for some unknown reason he hesitated and put his foot back on the ground. “You’re not even worth it” said the angry boy, and with a terrifying face he spat upon the little snail where he lay.
The little snail did not move, but stared ever up that wall at the sunlight so high above. He longed to feel its warmth upon his shell, but his heart sank and he said to himself, “I can never reach it, for I am not able to overcome the obstacles which beset me”. And for several days he remained exactly where he lay, his heart growing ever more sorrowful as each day slipped away into another night. For a few days the angry boy would come again and curse the little snail, but soon he seemed to lose interest and did not return for a long time.
When he became hungry the little snail would slink across the dirt and soil to eat sadly from the lowest leaves on the plants, even though they were caked in filth and did not taste as good as his favorite leaves just a little higher. Sometimes he would look mournfully up at those leaves, but he did not try to reach them any longer; “I can never reach them” he said, “for I am not able to reach so very far”. And though the little snail survived each day, his heart was filled with sadness.
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By Jason Ward in
Bad Blogging
I apologize for the long absence, but I’ve been away working on a variety of other projects. Luckily I think I’ve sorted a way to spend more time here as well, so this site should start seeing some additional attention pretty soon. What I have to present to you today though isn’t really a “Damn Short” story, but it is a short story, so don’t feel too sad. I’ll explain what it’s all about very soon, I promise.
By Jason Ward in
Really Old Poetry
A colorful metaphor
Exquisite and pearl
A bright shiny warmth
Implicit in you
Shining as diamond
Gleaming as hope
Igniting inside me
Boundless in scope
An embrace of acceptance
Hand on my soul
Eyes seeing my heart
Your reflection of me
Kiss on emotions
You somehow evoke
A vision I treasure
Of fires you stoke
And I of you dream
On soft pillow’d thoughts
Exposing all to you
Of the heart that burns hot.
10-15-98
By Jason Ward in
Site Maintenance
So you might have noticed that we have a new look. It’s occurred to me in recent weeks that though the existing site face had a distinctive “personalized” feel, it also suffered a bit in the readability category, which, let’s face it, isn’t a good thing when you’re on a site that’s filled with stories to read. Consequently the old face has been sent to the shop for a bit of repair, and in the meantime we’ll proceed with this fresh and dandy new UI. It should offer a superior readability experience and have an overall more professional appearance, though to me it still doesn’t quite feel as homey (not the clown) as it should. Nevertheless, I do like it, and if it makes things easier on the eyes for us all, then so much the better.
Oh, and I nearly forgot to mention! In addition to our facial overhaul we’ve also changed our commenting requirements so that you don’t have to register on the site in order to leave your feedback. We hope that this will make it more convenient to share your thoughts on the stories we post and any feedback you have regarding the look of the site. We’d love to hear from you, so please, post away! 
“Honey, are you ready?” Henry Shinkerman called to his wife. He carefully examined himself in the long oval mirror mounted by the door of their 317th floor apartment. His necktie began in a tidy knot that had tied itself just perfectly, but as always he was left to manually adjust the three buttons at its flared out bottom.
“I’ll be down in time!” The voice of his wife, Joanna, bounced down the stairs and Henry winced. He breathed deeply as he finished buttoning his tie, ensuring it would neither flap nor flip on the way to the car, which in turn would ensure that he wouldn’t hear any complaints about his unkempt appearance. No, today Henry looked absolutely perfect.
“Sweetheart, we have a long way to go, I don’t want to ruin our anniversary!” Henry blinked and checked the time on the clock inside his eyelid: 4:48PM, December 31st 2471. He sighed and reached into his coat pocket, then pulled out two slips of paper. The first was a reservation slip for dinner; the other was a receipt for work he’d recently ordered on the car. A grin crept across his face as he thought about the two new modifications; he couldn’t wait to try them out tonight. He had dropped the car at the shop nearly two weeks ago and Joanna picked it up just this morning.
“I’m ready, do you still love me?” Joanna glided down the stairs, her sculpted legs unmoving in the skin-tight dress that seemed painted over every curve from her sumptuous child-bearing hips to her flawlessly round and gravity-defying breasts. In every sense that one could observe with the eye, she was the perfect woman, and Henry knew in his wallet that she was the best that money could buy. He smiled as she floated down to him, her anti-gravity high-heels never touching the floor. He pulled her close and kissed her with forced affection.
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