Archive for the ‘Damn Short Stories’ Category

This is a very, very, short story I wrote as an exercise in writing a scene specifically intended to capture a mood. That scene was assigned in my Screenwriting class last week and I actually wrote it in about 15 minutes the hour before it was due in class. To my surprise, the teacher was very impressed with it, and said he really liked it because “It’s a complete story. Excellent work!” Suffice to say, I was shocked, and read it again. Sure enough…it is a complete story. Somehow. I’ll let you be the judge of whether it’s actually any good at capturing a mood or not!

                The faint buzz of TV static permeated the small, tobacco-stinking room, punctuated only by the slow swing of a wall clock’s rusty pendulum.  Two small children huddled under a blanket in one corner of the room, snuggled up for warmth, yet shivering as if their small bodies couldn’t generate quite enough heat. A paper Christmas tree, carefully colored by the hands of children, hung from the wall by a single piece of duct tape, and under its illustrated branches rested two candy bars, each with a half-flattened bow on top. The dim hum of a microwave oven, its timer counting down from 2:17, draped the room in an electric glow, its sole source of hope. An empty carton rested atop the microwave, the promise of shaped and formed turkey with mashed potatoes reflecting light at the dismal shape of a woman; her face carried far too many worry lines for her years, and her chest heaved in half-controlled sobs as silent tears dripped down her face.

                Outside, a man with a dirty Santa hat and ragged shoes knelt against the railing, his frame racked with unreleased sobs. His cheeks were dry, but his eyes glistened like pools on the verge of overflowing. Slowly he rocked, forward and back, his stomach growling and his fists clenched as he listened to the faint hum of the microwave through the slightly open door. He counted the seconds, each one a breath from his solid frame, and as he rocked forward for the last time, the faint ding of the microwave signalled his time was finally over.

The Elephant Shoes story has been revised rather substantially. I think the new version has improved greatly in both the language (big reduction on “and” usage) and the development of each of the characters. A fair amount of “fluff” detail (pun totally intended!) has been removed and refined as well. The total word count has been reduced by about 27.

Birth Pains is a story that intrigued me, yet I wasn’t happy with it even when I posted it. I’m still not 100% happy with it, but it does seem to flow a little more smoothly now. Thanks to those who offered constructive criticism; this one, while still not perfect, is a better story for it!

I have made some significant revisions to The Death of the Death of Death, which I believe tighten up the story (I swear, that’s a technical term) a good deal and make certain elements a little clearer. You will find the new draft in place of the old draft, and for the time being the old draft is not available. I may at some point create a category for original drafts of stories that have been revised, but it won’t be today!

Note: The story is now in its third major revision. Thanks to everyone who’s helped in the critique of this piece!

Kaitlin Thomas reached across the bed as the first rays of dawn began to light her bedroom. She slipped her hand under the sheet and softly stroked her husband’s abdomen. She smiled, thinking of how he had felt in her last night; how he would feel in her again within moments. With a tenderness that whispered of great love mingled with lust she softly caressed his chest and nipples. A smile grew on her lips as the sheet above his pelvis swelled and twitched with an unconscious rhythm. 

Read the rest of this entry »