My Last Bark
(What If? Exercise: Read the description here.)
I don’t know what’s wrong. They used to play with me all the time. They used to pat my head and talk to me. Now they don’t look at me at all. What did I do?
Mom looks down, the way I do when I’m sad. She sits in the chair and looks at a bone in her hands. My bone. She knows I like bones. It must be for me. Can I have it? She won’t give it to me. She just stares at it. She just looks sad.
I wag my tail. Please smile, Mom! Look at me! I can take the bone. You don’t have to be sad now. I put my head in her lap. She still won’t move.
Dad comes down the stairs. I walk to him, but he walks right by me. Dad, what did I do? Was I bad?
The girls walk in the room. They have a frame with them. It has small girls just like them in it, and a dog too. They’re all sad when they look at it now. They used to laugh when they saw that frame. Please laugh. I don’t like when you’re sad. I like when you smile and pat my head and scratch my side when I lay down. I like when we run and play and swim. But they don’t want to do that now. I must have been bad.
Wait, I hear my name. What do they say? They all sit on the floor. I walk to them and sit down to hear.
They say they miss me. How can they miss me when I’m right here? They talk of how I was sick and it was hard for me to walk. Was I sick? Now I can walk. Now they talk of when they took me to the vet. Yes, that’s right. My heart hurt, and Mom came to see me. I was still with the vet when it all went dark. So how did I get here?
I know now why they’re sad. I was bad, sort of. I left them when my heart hurt too much. But I came back.
My heart still hurts when I see them all sad. Please, talk of good things. I know I have to make them smile. I walk to the box Mom left on the stand. I try to push it with my nose, and it falls on the floor. The top falls off, and small frames spill out in front of Mom. She gets scared, but Dad picks one up, one with the dog and the girls in the pool. He starts to smile. He starts to laugh.
They all grab a frame. I can see them smile now. I hear them laugh. The frames make them think good things. That’s what I want. I wag my tail, the way I do each time they laugh. I know they’ll be fine. Now they’ll smile when they think of me.
I see a light. I know I have to go to it. Not yet, though. First, I look at them all one more time. Then I lift my head up and bark. I don’t bark much, but I feel I should now. I can tell they heard me. They look up from the frames, and they smile. I walk to each of them and lick their face. I know deep down they can feel me.
I don’t want to leave now, but I have to. Mom, Dad, girls, I will miss you too. Thank you for the life I had with you. I love you all!
This short piece is based on What If? Exercise 52: “Practice Writing Good, Clean Prose”. The exercise is to write a short story using only single-syllable words, the objective being to develop a consciousness of word choice and learn to avoid writing flowery prose. The story I wrote is told from the perspective of a dog who has passed on, but doesn’t realize it until she spends one last day in her family’s presence as a ghost. I hope you enjoy what I’ve written. Thanks for reading!
Dedicated to our beloved family dog, a gentle and loving chocolate Labrador who literally had a big heart. Though she passed away a few years ago, her memory will stay with us forever. We love you, Hershey!
Astray
I thought he loved me.
I thought he’d be mine forever.
I thought he’d grow old with me, keep me company, wait every day for me to come home to him.
And then one day, he left me. For the neighbor. Who gave him something better than I ever could…
She bought him the premium food.
Now I only see him over the fence, growing old and plump with her, keeping her company in her yard, waiting every day on her porch for her to come home to him.
And always reminding me of the day I lost him forever.
From that day on, I swore I’d never love a stray cat again.
Tell Me Why You Love Me
“Why are you with me?”
The young woman looked up at her boyfriend, surprised by his question.
“What do you mean? I’m with you because I love you.”
“But why?” There was a subtle sadness in the young man’s eyes as he gazed at his girlfriend. “Why do you love me? You think I’m even worth it?”
The woman smiled kindly at the man. It was evident from the look in her eyes how silly she thought these questions were.
“I love you because you’re my best friend”, she said. “You’re sweet, and smart, and thoughtful. I love you because you make me laugh, and you comfort me when I’m sad. I love you because you understand me like no one else. I love you because you make me happy. So yes, I think you’re worth it.”
As her boyfriend smiled back, the young woman dared to ask the same question.
“Why do you love me?” she said. The young man hesitated; he didn’t believe he was quite as good with words as his girlfriend.
“You’re my best friend too. You make me happier than I’ve ever been. I’ve never loved anyone like I love you.”
“…Then I hope I’m worth it too.”
The couple gazed fondly at each other, then said good night the way they always did before ending their daily calls.
“You think we’ll be together again someday?” asked the young man. His girlfriend nodded.
“I don’t doubt it”, whispered the woman, and her boyfriend smiled again.
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”
The young lovers bid each other farewell and finally closed their computers. Though they couldn’t see each other anymore, they still felt peace as they thought of one another and the wonderful relationship they had. They may have been thousands of miles apart, but they knew that what they shared was incredibly special and too precious to let go. Their love was worth the wait.
Happy Birthday to my best friend and loving boyfriend! You’re a wonderful person, and I feel so blessed to have you in my life. I love you, sweetheart!
Drosophila
Light. Move. Light grows. Crawl out. Buzz. Bright light. Crawl from egg. Free.
Wings. Grow. Flap. Buzz. Flap, flap. Whir. Fly.
Light is bright. Fly around, see many others. Buzz around. Food is close. Smell the food, land. Feed. Flap again, buzz again. Fly away.
Light is bright. Fly around, see many others. Buzz around. Food is close. Smell the food, land. Feed. Flap again, buzz again. Fly away.
Female…
Light is bright. Fly around, see many others. Buzz around. Food is close. Smell the food, land. Feed. Flap again, buzz again. Fly away.
Movement. Ground shifts. What? What is that? Large eyes. Something sees us.
New food. Ground moves. Smell other food. Dark, then light. Fly, find the food. Feed. Flap, buzz. Fly away.
Brighter light now. What is this? Ground moves again. Ground is… in the air?
New ground moves away. Change in the air…
Aaahhh!!! It burns!
Fall…
Cold ground. Bright light. Twitch. Darkness closes in… In the air, hear a sound…
“Drosophila.”
The idea for this piece came to me some years ago, when I was taking a Classic Genetics class for my Biology course. The story depicts the course of a genetic drift experiment as told from the perspective of one of the test subjects: a fruit fly of the genus Drosophila. Fruit flies are very commonly used in simple genetics experiments, and for some reason I thought it might be interesting to try writing a story about their life course during an experiment: over two weeks, the flies are hatched in a jar with a floor covered in a special nutrient mix, left to grow and reproduce, moved to another jar so as not to crossbreed with the new generation of flies, and eventually knocked out with alcohol fumes and placed under a magnifying glass for observation. The simplicity of the writing is meant to mirror the simplicity of the fly and its life, and the repeated paragraphs reflect what I assume would be the fly’s extremely short memory span and limited activity inside the jar.
Hope you’ve enjoyed the piece! Thanks for reading!
Blindsided
(Flash Fiction Contest Winner!)
She didn’t tell me she was pregnant until the end of the session.
Four years I’d been with Lorraine. She should have known I hate surprises.
“Say something, Charles.”
What could I say? I love my wife; I didn’t want anything to ruin what we had. Not even a child.
“Anything, please.”
She watched me scribble on a pad I pulled from my pocket. I walked up to her chair and dropped a cashier’s check for fifty thousand dollars in her lap before finally leaving her alone with one last haunting farewell.
“Tomorrow, I start looking for a new therapist.”
This piece was my entry for the Flash Fiction Contest recently held by Writer’s Carnival. The rule was to write any story as long as it was exactly 100 words in length. After winning first place with my story (yay!), I decided to share it here on my blog for others to read. Enjoy!
Special thanks to Writer’s Carnival for hosting the contest! Thank you again for naming me the winner! I’m honored!
Rising Star
Backstage, she was a sweet and outgoing young girl. Behind the scenes, she had a happy life with her family and friends. Everyone loved her.
But when the lights came on, she was suddenly a different person.
The world around her changed. Before a watching crowd, she would transform into any character she wished. One night, she was that adorable little girl dancing in the chorus line; another, the diva singing her heart out in the spotlight. She could take on any role from a timid teenager to a fiery vaudevillian chanteuse, and always put every bit of her soul into her act. She stood a cut above the rest, never failing to charm her audience and draw them into her world.
And still, everyone loved her.
The way she spoke, the way she sang, the way she danced captivated every person who couldn’t take their eyes off her, following her every move executed with impeccable grace and confidence. No matter what part she played, her heart and soul always shone through, and after each performance, the truth became ever clearer to the world watching in awe from off the stage…
That sweet and outgoing young girl was a rising star.
Happy Birthday to my incredibly talented baby sister and favorite actress! You’re a wonderful performer, and I wish you all the best in everything you do. I know you’ll make it big someday! Keep reaching for the stars! I love you!
Life Through The Lens
Her world was normal. She had a loving family, great friends, a good school and a happy home. Her days were filled with the the average musings of any young girl trying to find her place in the world. She had a normal life. But she didn’t know how much more exciting that life could be.
Until the day she picked up a digital camera and discovered her gift for making films.
Suddenly, the world had become her playground. Now she had control over everything around her. She could make people do and say whatever she wanted. She could tell her younger sister to act silly, fall down, make a fool of herself, and know she would actually want to. She could ask her older sister for favors and have them done her way. She could channel her wit into hilarious scripts that would entertain others and bring smiles to the faces of the people she loved. She had discovered the power to turn the world upside down. She was an artist.
She loves the world. She loves her family, her friends, her days at school and at home. She loves her life.
Sometimes it’s all just more exciting through the lens, for behind the camera is the brave young woman she always wanted to be.
Happy Birthday to my incredible sister and favorite filmmaker! Best of luck to you in all your future endeavors. Keep making those awesome movies! I love you!
A Hundred Faces
She was so beautiful.
The moment I saw her, I couldn’t stop staring. Something about her was calling me, urging me to move closer, and I saw her moving toward me too. Soon, we were face to face. I smiled at her. She smiled back.
Then something else caught my eye, and we both turned to look. Another face, just as beautiful. How could all these lovely eyes be looking at someone as plain as me? Again, I walked to the alluring new arrival, as she did to me. Perhaps she was a little prettier than the first…
More faces appeared around the corner, all of them calling me forth. Some were like the first two, but many were different. Some were hiding, no doubt shy like me. Some stood in the light like regal beings waiting for attention, my attention. Some were slim, some were wide. Some were tall as giants, some were short as dwarves, and others still had the most unusual curves. But they were all beautiful.
Soon, I was lost in their world. Around every corner, another face waited to greet me with a smile. They made me laugh, a lovely sound that echoed through the still halls of their mysterious land, a sound I hadn’t heard since before my broken heart told me I was plain and made me believe I could never be as beautiful as these hundred faces watching me now. They were laughing with me, telling me a different story. Maybe my heart was wrong.
And then I was at the edge of their world, where one last face, the most beautiful of all, was waiting to see me off. Above her head was a sign, telling me I was now leaving their “House”. I spared one last look into her lovely dark eyes, and in a single step, I was back in the outside world of people and noise and fun of all sorts. Fun that I could finally join in once again.
I looked back into the house I had left, but I couldn’t see that beautiful face anymore. She was gone. They were all gone. They were never there.
But my smile remained. I didn’t need them anymore.
I held my head high and walked away to the pier. Alone.
This story was my entry for the Carnival Style Contest recently held by Writer’s Carnival. The rule was to write any piece as long as it was carnival-themed in some way, so I chose to write a story set in a house of mirrors. With the contest now over and the winners already announced, I decided to share my piece here on my blog for others to read. Enjoy!
Special thanks to Writer’s Carnival for hosting the contest! It was a lot of fun!
One Mistake
I never saw the spider.
I kept telling them on the way to the hospital: I opened the door just for a second to let the cat out, and then I went back to the living room.
I never saw that spider sneaking in.
Yet here we were two hours later, listening to the doctor tell us that my sister was going to be fine. A minor allergic reaction, nothing to worry about. But good news now wasn’t going to keep my parents from looking at me funny for weeks, and it wasn’t going to stop this story from coming up at every Christmas family gathering for years to come. Now my baby sister was going to be arachnophobic for the rest of her life, and I would never be able to open another door without looking straight at my feet first.
All because of one mistake.
That I never even saw.
Breaking Blocks
(What If? Exercise: Read the description here.)
I sat at my desk, typing away at my computer, trying to break through my writer’s block as I wrote about anything and everything that came to mind, hoping some random idea would blossom into a story, when I happened to glance over at a pile of books sitting nearby, on top of which sat a book from my childhood, The Cat in the Hat, a book I had recently found sitting quietly on one of the room’s many shelves, a book I had loved as a little girl, and suddenly I found myself thinking back on the simpler days of my life, when six-foot cats wearing tall striped hats and pet fish who could talk made perfect sense to me, when stories about boys who had crazy adventures in magical chocolate factories and young children learning the craft of magic were much more appealing to me than the average everyday life, a normal life where I was just a shy girl trying to hide from the scary kids at school by making herself as inconspicuous as possible, while still longing for a day when she would be recognized as a great storyteller with a gift for touching people’s lives with her unique voice in writing, a day when people everywhere would know her name and celebrate her beautiful stories about fantastic adventures and worlds where anything was possible, worlds that existed only in her mind but that could hopefully live on in the imaginations of many young readers, perhaps some of whom would choose to pursue their own talents in the arts and continue to color the world with their own voices, making the world a much brighter place… and then I looked back at my computer screen and smiled, realizing that I didn’t need to worry so much about finding a perfect idea to shape into a perfect piece, that ideas were anywhere and everywhere, and as long as I had my own storytelling voice, I didn’t need to produce a great novel to be heard, for I could just as easily write a simple short piece about an ambitious writer’s long train of thought and her hopeful journeys breaking blocks.
Yes, I realize this piece is only one sentence long, and I can assure you that it’s completely intentional. This story is based on What If? Exercise 90: “The Journey of the Long Sentence”. The goal is to write a short short story that, as mentioned above, is a single sentence in length. The objective of this exercise is to understand how we can shape our writing in a similar manner that our minds function, building a linear order for an observation that often consists of many overlapping aspects.
The story I ended up creating was almost completely improvised; I started with a single idea and just ran with it, typing without pausing while I let my mind continuously fill in the lines of the story. Though I know the end result isn’t perfect, I can honestly say it was a lot of fun to write, and I encourage you to try it yourself. Who knows what brilliant stories might be lurking in the back of your mind?
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