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!
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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.
by Naomi L. | September 13, 2013 | Flash Fiction, J.C. Wolfe's Writing |
(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!
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by Naomi L. | September 6, 2013 | Flash Fiction, J.C. Wolfe's Writing |
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.
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