These pages will be devoted to writing short stories in a dozen sentences or less. The stories will be anything that strikes my fancy. They may be autobiographical or fiction. The main purpose is to practice writing, sentence construction and grammar. A self imposed rule; the sentences will be concise and terse. They will convey the atmosphere of the story in staccato rhythm. I hope you enjoy the stories.
He entered the room with an icy calm disposition.
There wouldn't be any disagreement today.
He knew he was correct to the depths of his soul.
His mohawk hair was perfect, it had taken him hours in preparation.
He wore it as one wears armor.
His stare could have burned a hole through concrete block.
He was prepared for every contingency.
Miss Grace, looked at the young man and a little shiver went up her spine.
"John, what is 8 times 6?", she asked.
"The answer is 42", he replied, glaring at her, daring her to challenge him.
"You are correct" she nervously gulped, "Please take your seat."
She too had just finished reading the Hitch-Hikers Guide to the Galaxy.
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Add Comment?She was a sweet curvy little machine painted racing blue.
Her interior featured red leather bucket seats without frills.
She wasn't made for high top end speed.
She was lithe, agile and pounced from corner to corner.
A quick little tap on the brakes to set her turn angle.
Then drive her by counter steering and the accelerator pedal.
She was a '58 Porsche 356A Coupe named Sally.
She was parked and locked safely at the side of the street.
He went inside a favorite haunt for a quick beer.
Then some drunk sumbitch plowed a half ton pickup into her side, killing her.
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Add Comment?The razor sharp edge of the blade glittered in the gloomy light.
The 59 year old veteran, heard two things as a form stepped closer.
"Give me your money" was overidden by "Sign the paper, admit your a traitor."
His hallucination transposed the face of his old captor onto the thug's.
This time he didn't care, either he or his torturer would die that night.
"Not this time asshole, never again." screamed the vet.
The blade flashed forward, as the veteran blocked it with his left arm.
The vet punched forward with a rigid hand, crushing the larnyx of his attacker.
The police found him later, the blade still stuck in his prosthetic limb.
"He was only a boy, only a boy..." sobbed the vet over the body of a 17 year old.
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Add Comment?He drove the brand new candy apple red car off the lot.
He had saved a long time for this little baby, paying cash.
It was a beautiful late spring day.
He touched the button to lower the windows.
He settled deeper into the creme colored leather bucket caressing his behind.
As he tooled down the road, he lit a cigarette, taking a deep drag.
He luxuriated in tasting the smoke, feeling the leather and simply driving.
He touched the accelerator and she leapt forward, immediately responsive.
He flicked the cigarette's ash out the window and drove on, smiling.
He failed to notice the smoldering ember now burning a hole in the rear seat.
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Add Comment?He was a high school boy that was awkward around girls.
He wore black horn-rimmed glasses and braces on his teeth.
He ran cross-country, track, played baseball and soccer.
In other words, he was 5 ft 11 and weighed about 120 pounds, barely.
His younger sister threw a slumber party one weekend.
A honey-blond, blue-eyed beauty talked with him more than with the other girls.
She laughed but accepted a stammered request for a date the next weekend.
The date was tremendous, and all too quickly they were walking to her door.
She leaned against him waiting, so he kissed her as one would an aunt.
It was all he knew.
She smiled gently, eyes glittering, "We'll just have to work on that, won't we?"
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Add Comment?He knocked on the door of her parent's house, corsage in hand.
Her mother said, "She will be down in a minute. She's almost ready."
He tried talking with her parents, with absolutely no idea what they were saying.
He heard footsteps on the stairs, but it was her younger sister, coming to peek.
Her dad had finally given up talking, and wore a bemused look on his face.
Her footsteps sounded on the staircase, his heart leapt in his chest.
He stood as she entered the room, and he actually forgot how to breathe.
His vision narrowed in stunned awe, everything else faded from his view.
She was literally the most exquisite woman that he had ever seen or imagined.
She did her little trick of spraying perfume in the air, walking under it toward him.
"Are you ready?" She smiled, delighted by his reaction.
"Absolutely." He replied, smiling as he breathed in the scent and sight of her.
It was a glorious night.
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Add Comment?It had starting snowing a few hours before dawn.
By the time classes were open, it was a full blizzard.
For the first time in ninety years, the campus closed.
My roommate and I exchanged grins, having a simultaneous idea.
Time for stranded Coed rescue!
We put chains on my old beater and set sail around the town.
Screw the stranded guys, they were on their own.
We found about fifteen damsals in distress that day, and performed our chivalry.
Hugs, gratitude and numbers were received as rescues were completed.
The next weekend was one of the best parties our old house ever had.
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Add Comment?Dixie Canyon was a little unincorporated town on the banks of a snow-melt river.
Phil, Mike and I were going to Dixie Canyon to visit Phil's girlfriend.
Phil, chuckled continuously at some internal joke as he drove.
There were several things remarkable about this little town.
First, the only music played was the Grateful Dead, ever.
Second, it had a sauna that could seat four, six if you were friends.
Third, the population was mostly young women in their early 20s, our age.
Mike and I both whispered "Oh my God!" as Phil turned off the highway.
Three nude steamy laughing women came bouncing out of the sauna.
They ran down the hill and plunged into the icy water.
Phil, now nude, was walking toward the sauna.
"Cm'on guys its time for some fun." he laughed at us.
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Add Comment?I had bumped into Alan a few times at bars around the town.
We got to be pretty good friends and started playing foosball together.
We could hold a table all night long, a stack of challenge quarters waiting.
A clique developed that contained the bar's elite foosers, these were the killers.
It was a Saturday night, the place was rocking, people drinking and laughing.
Another quarter was placed as a challenge on our table, but I didn't see who.
That quarter finally came to the top, Alan and I looked at our opponents.
Two buxom women, wearing jeans, thin tank tops and little else looked back.
As they leaned over to start the game, Alan and I each got a view of heaven.
We lost Eleven-Zip, had to endure endless insults, but it was so worth it.
I got the last laugh, though, I married one of them.
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Add Comment?The band was tight tonight.
Sticks had a beautiful spine-swaying rhythm going.
Josh was smiling ear to ear as he built a bass blues riff onto Sticks' beat.
Eric, on keyboards, added his own sweet counter-point gently into the tune.
Johnny, wet the reed on his tenor sax.
Its voice was slowly introduced into the mix with respect.
Johnny looked over at Eric, gave a little wink, then closed his eyes and cut loose.
Magic came from his gut and soul, effortlessly guiding his fingers.
He played for hours or just seconds, no way to tell.
When the magic finished, he looked down at the little sax stunned.
The thrilled crowd sat silent for a moment, then burst into thunderous applause.
The band smiled at each other, thrilled to have caught the magic of a moment.
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Scott Kansas City | 2:40pm on Sunday, November 1st, 2009 |
Dedicated to all you actual musicians out there. May you capture this feeling many times. | |
My sister and I were both born in the early 50's.
Grandmother was born in January, 1900.
She taught us how to have fun without TV, radio or other gear.
A simple cardboard box and a grassy hill meant hours of play.
She taught both of us the joys of finding shapes in clouds.
Finding four leaf clovers, or making clover chains were other pleasures.
One day, my sister, about 2-1/2, asked grandmother her name.
"Why, it is Ruth" grandmother replied.
"Okay, Ruthie!" responded my sister.
That was it, our grandmother was Ruthie until she passed in 1994.
A sweet soul that was a huge part of our lives.
Rest well, my guardian angel, Ruthie.
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Add Comment?She walked slowly toward me, down the aisle.
My eyes hungrily drank in every detail of her flowers, gown and face.
She was radiant, sending me one of her special dazzling smiles.
Her Father and Mother calmly gave their daughter to the marriage.
We turned in unison and repeated the marriage words in front of the minister, family and friends.
We kissed as Husband and Wife or as Wife and Husband.
I still remember the kiss after 35 plus years.
It was soft, sensual, electric, filled with promise and commitment.
We turned to walk back down the aisle, together.
Both sets of parents were holding hands, lost in the memories of their own ceremonies.
It was a beautiful day to create memories and allow others to reminisce on theirs.
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Add Comment?When I look at her, I see a gorgeous young bride walking toward me.
I see the beautiful mother of our children and the passionate look of my lover.
I see my history reflected in her eyes.
I see my best friend, my soul mate.
I see beauty and grace.
When she looks in a mirror, she sees ageing.
She sees the shadows of her Grandmother, Father and now her Mother.
She sees pain, suffering and tragic loss.
I constantly struggle to reach through, trying to catch her receding soul.
My one gift would be that she could see through my eyes.
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Add Comment?He was a city boy that had rarely been out of range of noise and bedlam.
He was asked to go hiking on a particular weekend, and agreed.
She showed at his door in a comfortable shirt, cargo shorts and well-worn boots
He was dressed for a Laker's game.
They walked a mile or two on a trail, he was constantly jabbering about nothing at all.
She smiled and put a finger to her lips, then turned into a stand of pines.
He followed, listening for the first time to the rhythm of the silence around him.
Birds and insects were gently calling to each other.
A circular stand of birches with peeling bark had built a thick bed of fallen leaves.
She pulled him down, and they blissfully absorbed the mood of breeze through the birches.
Their trembling hearts and breathlessness were in unison until their lovemaking shattered the silence.
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Add Comment?His grey eyes, set deep in tanned, leathery wrinkled skin, scanned the horizon to memorize his fishing village.
His leathery hands; callused, knotted and scarred from years of toil, were holding a freshly mended net.
A deep wracking cough brought a minuscule amount of blood and phlegm from his lungs.
He took a deep breath, over the pain in his lungs, savoring the salty smell of the sea.
The sea, in calm or storm, had been his life for over fifty years.
He stood, slowly making the rounds to each of his best friends, inviting them to the dock.
At the last house, he escorted his wife of many years back, arm in arm.
Five hardened leathery skinned men dressed in souwesters and fishing bibs greeted them.
Another wracking cough struck the old man and he spat the detritus into the bay with disgust.
The seven people boarded a little dinghy and rowed out to the middle of the bay.
He shook each of his friend's hands with conviction, kissed his wife and announced that cancer had won its battle
With that, he slipped backward over the stern and disappeared beneath the waves, he was going home.
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Add Comment?He sits alone in a small apartment contemplating past and future.
He tastes anguish and hope in equal measure.
Love has fled from a long term marriage, to his chagrin.
A friendship with the hope of love blossoms in a new relationship.
Slow soft tender lingering lip kisses, with just the barest hint of touching tongues fill his dreams.
Yet this pairing is very new and tenuous - without guarantee.
His goal is an elegant, erudite, adult life that he can cherish for himself.
The prize is to build a life that is rich and subtle in flavor, similar to a fine Pinot Noir.
This he hopes to share, with a woman of similar tastes and passions.
Life is too short, he has all this to give and his heart is ready to open.
But he will never settle for mediocrity again; on this he will stand fast.
He will follow the advice of a dear friend; "Keep your eye on the prize"
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Add Comment?A New Year dawns, as he sips on a second glass of Chianti.
He is relieved to get the previous year behind him.
There was so much death, loss and failure of long term relationships.
Too much dependency on depression medication.
The New Year dawns bitter cold, snowy and, most importantly, Clean.
He has weaned himself from all the chemical dependencies.
He has realized that there is an adamant circle of friends that offer love and succor.
He is pursuing a 40 year old dream, and yes, his torch is burning high and bright.
There aren't any promises, and the question is, will she reciprocate?
Perhaps it is time for a third glass of Chianti, as he ponders the future.
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Add Comment?It has been ten years of acrimony and accusations since the family wound.
His wife claimed rape, his sister's husband claimed consensual joining.
An innocent family torn asunder, brother and sister kept separated by the event.
A decade of Birthdays, Thanksgivings and Christmases that were not shared.
He has a grandchild that his sister has not met, and this must be rectified.
He and his sister's parents are now octogenarians with failing health.
A family division can not be allowed to prevent care of these aged loved ones.
It is passed time to bury this family elephant.
Finally, his brother-in-law offered a sincere and heart-felt apology.
It was accepted and tangible anxiety lifted from his sister's shoulders.
A peace has come finally, now it is time to let wounds knit and mend.
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An exquisite rag doll with a china face was a gift for Beth's sixth birthday.
Its facial features were hand painted, and its eyes were masterfully done.
No matter which angle she looked at the doll, its eyes locked onto Beth's.
Years of happy playtime passed until Beth grew into a young adult.
She stored the doll away in a dark chest, forgetting about it.
Beth, now thirty four, opened the chest looking for something old, borrowed, or blue.
As she picked up the doll to search underneath, china eyes locked onto hers.
Beth shivered as there seemed to be palpable malice emanating from the doll.
Hairline cracks appeared on the doll's eyes, followed by exploding china shards.
Beth was cast into darkness as two precisely placed shards claimed her vision.
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Add Comment?Bill slowly chewed a carrot for energy, imagining the demanding double-black ski run to follow.
He pushed off into the first ten foot drop, aiming at the snow covered hillock below.
He landed badly, and his right ski popped loose.
Three successive drops and Bill shed skis, poles, goggles and skin like shrapnel.
He was rolling down the mountain faster and faster, gathering layer on layer of snow.
The speeding snowball, now about eight feet in diameter, exited the bottom of Eagle's Dare.
It rolled to a gentle stop in front of the lodge, to the delight of many children.
Two more snowballs were quickly rolled and placed on top of the large one.
The huge snowman was festooned with sticks for arms, coal for buttons and eyes.
A red and whited striped scarf and stocking-cap were donated.
A stub of a carrot was found and used as the nose.
Bill's crumpled body was not discovered until the spring thaw.
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Add Comment?He went to her sister's house to deliver a birthday present.
He was hugged twice and given a glass of red wine before dinner.
Her mother and daughter came from another part of the house to join the meal.
He received hugs from these two as well, her daughter's hug a delightful surprise.
The dinner conversation covered many subjects.
These ranged between Artificial Intelligence, 4H Chicken Wrangling, Necrophilia and Writing.
Her daughter read one of his short stories aloud by request.
The presentation had a spine-shivering depth of feeling he had not imagined during composition.
The phone rang and She was on the line, encapsulating: Mother, Daughter, Sister and Girlfriend.
Five almost inebriated individuals started talking and laughing at once into the phone.
Too soon it was time for him to leave, hugs and advice were given as presents.
He drove home amazed by the openness of welcome he had just received.
She was calling to make sure that he arrived safely.
A wonderful night closed with a two hour conversation with Her.
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Add Comment?We are long distance dating.
It is difficult when the desire for embracing cannot be immediately realized.
However, there is a sense of freedom when the physical becomes an intermittent reward.
Distance has become a chaperone, allowing us to develop a complex aesthetic friendship.
We talk, text message, email and talk some more.
She likes to tease me; I like to make her laugh.
The minutia of the day is a vein of gold to discover and relish.
The timbre of the conversations has slowly changed to a deeper emotional level.
We talk and time slips away, all too soon our evening is spent.
She makes three words thrilling with promise of conversations to come; "Good Night, Scott."
These become a special form of "Hello" as she always waits in my dreams.
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Add Comment?He had arrived at her house sleepless, exhausted and half a day late.
Horrible weather and a missed connecting flight had conspired to keep them apart.
Valentine's Day weekend with her was wonderful, but much too short,
All too soon it was time to pack for his return trip.
They sat in the car in her driveway trying to delay the inevitable.
As he reached for her, to kiss her once more, he saw her looking back at him.
Her look spoke volumes about their growing relationship.
The look was an invitation into her soul and it burned deep into his.
He kissed her, trying to send the same emotion back to her.
After a week apart, her look still delightfully haunts him.
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