This is inspired by a line in Catch 22.
Showing posts with label ORIGINAL FICTION. Show all posts
Showing posts with label ORIGINAL FICTION. Show all posts
How do you like them apples: A 55 Word Story
The step mother speaks her piece in this 55 word story.
A Thing of Beauty
Tiny white beads,
flawlessly round, not too large but nowhere near too small, each bead identical
to the next yet unique in every way, each pearl tells a different story; they are
not a clear white, but more of a subdued ivory with a tinge of pink, hard and
smooth, unbreakable yet delicate, their texture and color changing with every
touch and at every different angle. Light cascades down the the necklace, strung together in a halo of
sparkling and reflecting beads, and bounces off from one pearl to
the next with the elegance of a ballerina on a moonlight floor. Magnificent in
its versatility, it can highlight the risque or add excitement to simplicity. It is not too long, but made to fit
perfectly around the neck, caressing the edge of the shoulder bones, a circle
of charm and sophistication around a smooth naked neck. The end is knotted with
black ribbon into a bow creating an air of Victorian elegance. It stands as a
vision of beauty in simplicity, a marriage of modern elegance and
immortal style.
Inspired by James Agee’s voice
Sitting silently in a park
It was a Tuesday
night and the place was packed. The center of attraction was a young man in a hat, strumming on a guitar and
singing along. A crowd gathered around him, some tapping their feet, some
swaying to the music.
A woman on her
phone perched herself on the ledge of a fountain. She wore a long flared
bohemian skirt and her high heels peeked through. She stopped for a moment to
light a cigarette and resumed her conversion. A whiff of smoke blew in my direction.
Another group of
young men were seated on the steps around the fountain. They wore baggy,
brightly dyed clothes and multicolored beads. One of them sported
shoulder-length dreadlocks. The man on the guitar was strumming “Redemption
Song”.
Surrounding the
fountain was dotted clusters of trees. Under one of them, a couple sat, her
head on his lap, smiling at one another. He leaned over to whisper something in
his ear, and she giggled audibly, stretching out under the canopy. Notes of "Can't
Buy Me Love" drifted in the air. Behind them a man walked his dog, or the dog
walked him, it was hard to tell.
It was getting
darker. The park was beginning to clear. The woman with the cigarette had
migrated towards the music. By now the musician was playing, “Come on baby
light my fire.” The couple under the
tree moved closer.
A few others sat
under the branches but most people gathered within earshot of the music. The guitar was strumming, “Feels like Home.”
Inspired by Harry
Burnstein’s voice.
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