by Naomi L. | December 13, 2013 | Flash Fiction, J.C. Wolfe's Writing |
A few years ago, I received a gift from a friend: a box of chocolates. I was excited about it for the brief time I had it, but I never got to enjoy it, because the same week, you took it away claiming you needed a gift for a friend of your own. Because you promised to replace it, I agreed to let you take it. But you never kept that promise. Of course, I’m partly to blame; since I didn’t want you to think I was petty and annoying, I didn’t insist. At the end of that story, my life was exactly the same as it was in the beginning.
Over a year later, an honest mistake left me without my gift of chocolate again. However, this time I decided to try something different: instead of sitting back and trusting you to replace it like you said you would, I was going to risk sounding petty and insist you keep your promise. I reminded you several times about the gift I had lost, and I kept asking when you would be going to the store so I’d know when you could get me the chocolate you promised. And you know what happened? I got chocolate!
So you want to know what I learned from all this? I learned that when you want something from someone, you have to insist. You have to keep asking when they plan to keep their promises, regardless of whether they’ll think you sound petty. And I know you think I sound petty. But honestly, I’m OK with that, because between these two endings – you thinking I’m a big person or me having chocolate to enjoy at the end of a trying day – I’d rather have the chocolate.
by Naomi L. | November 22, 2013 | Flash Fiction, J.C. Wolfe's Writing |
(What If? Exercise: Read the description here.)
I was a fool to think we could slay it.
She trusted me with her life, and I failed.
I was so sure we had it cornered.
I heard the growling before she did.
But she saw the teeth first.
I tried to save her.
It was too fast.
I blacked out.
She vanished.
Forever.
This piece is based on What If? Exercise 93: “Ten to One”. The exercise is to write a 55-word story in which the first sentence has ten words, the second has nine, etc., until the last sentence has only one word. The objective is to show that precision and thrift in writing can produce surprisingly powerful results. I hope you enjoy what I’ve written. Thanks for reading!
Back to the story
by Naomi L. | November 1, 2013 | Flash Fiction, J.C. Wolfe's Writing |
I could have sworn it was a bird.
When something big and black crashes hard enough into my window to shatter it, the first thing I think is it must be a bird.
But those leathery, featherless, bloodstained wings are not bird wings.
No, most of the birds around here know the tint of my windows, but blinded by the sun, that poor bat never saw the glass coming.
Based on a Halloween prompt from Writer’s Carnival: Things that Go Bump in the Day.
In no more than 4 sentences or 12 lines of poetry, write about a frightening occurrence which happens while the sun is still shining. What kind of terrors lurk in broad daylight?
Hope you enjoy what I’ve written! Thanks for reading, and Happy Halloween!
by Naomi L. | October 25, 2013 | Flash Fiction, J.C. Wolfe's Writing |
I’m sitting here, trying to think of something to write, a great idea for a story…
But this bird keeps staring at me through the window.
Seriously, a bird is staring through the window of my study, looking right at me.
What does it want? I don’t look like a bird, or anything that would be friendly to a bird. I don’t have any food on me; I never once gave it something to eat. We have a cat in the house who prowls around upstairs, so it shouldn’t be there in the first place.
Yet there it is, perched on the railing, staring at me with its beady little eyes, like I’m supposed to do something.
But what? Stare back at it? That’d be something odd, a staring contest with a bird. I know who’d win that. Hint: not me.
Am I supposed to stand up? Wouldn’t it fly away? What’s the point? It’s not doing anything, just staring.
And it’s very distracting.
Stop it! What do you want from me? Go away! I’m trying to work.
I mean it! Why are you looking at me like that?! Leave me alone!
The cat will get you if you stay there. Seriously, you’d better leave. Now.
OK, that’s it! Here I come…
Oh, look at that… It’s flying away.
Great, now I can get back to writing.
…
…
“The Bird on the Balcony”…
by Naomi L. | October 4, 2013 | Flash Fiction, J.C. Wolfe's Writing |
When Nadine moved to her new home with her parents in September, the wall was a plain blank white, yet to be touched by the artistic vision of a timid young girl seeking refuge from the world in the creative space of her basement.
In October, a month after starting at her new school, Nadine found she was still having trouble making friends. Shy and in fear of the school year to come, she descended into the basement one afternoon to stroke the wall with a thin paintbrush in little streaks across an array of grays, the palette the other students saw when they looked at her.
In November, Nadine finally engaged in conversation with a few other girls in her homeroom class. Her new hope of friendship found a place on the wall as light brushstroke patterns of daisy yellow.
In December, the cute boy Nadine often admired from a distance approached her after a Math exam. She went home still blushing profusely over Alex’s interest in her, and her wall was later decorated with bubbles of bright carnation pink.
In January, Alex invited Nadine to join him on the floor at the winter dance. Her heart still fluttering as the music echoed in her ears, Nadine twirled before the wall that night while sweeping wide strokes of royal purple over it.
In February, Alex told Nadine that, although she was a nice girl, he wasn’t looking to pursue a relationship. Heartbroken over her shattered hope, she spent that evening crying through her finger-painting of drooping midnight blue waves down the wall.
In March, Nadine saw Alex kissing a cheerleader in the hallway between classes. Though she showed no reaction at school, she stormed into her basement that afternoon to hurl water balloons filled with scarlet red paint at the wall.
In April, Nadine walked past Alex and his new girlfriend holding hands as they made their way to American History. Still she said nothing, but she took time out of that late afternoon to fleck the wall with bright spots of poison green.
In May, the girls with whom Nadine had been slowly forming a friendship spent their lunch break consoling her and reassuring her that Alex was the one missing out on a great relationship. She continued to keep her emotions to herself in school, but her renewed enthusiasm drove her to spend time later that day painting bright orange bands over the gloomier colors on the wall.
In June, Nadine’s friend Amanda knocked on her front door, intent on returning the yearbook carelessly forgotten on the bus. The man who answered the door directed the visitor downstairs, where his daughter was busy channeling her creative energy. It was only when Amanda entered the basement and saw Nadine draped in a paint-stained poncho before a colorful wall that the truth finally came to light: beneath the deceptive palette of grays was a beautiful rainbow.
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