POETRY: THIS WEEK'S POEM

Editing a film

Audio is causing grief

Patience is my friend

SHORT STORY: SHORT SHORTS

A brief explanation: From time to time I like to see how short I can make a short story. It's a good exercise in brevity. I'm not the only writer to do this, there are even competitions that do this. They give a maximum word count: 100, 50, 10, etc. Ernest Hemingway is said to have authored a short story in 6 words (though this may just be an urban legend) as follows:

“For sale, baby shoes, never worn.”

The following is a small collection of stories I have written in an attempt to capture similar brevity, though not necessarily limited to just 6 words.

17

The floor boards creaked. The little boy looked beneath his bed. His mother wept at the funeral.

12

Several hours and one test later, she knew her dreams were dashed.

9

Can't stop eating. Bathroom scale's broken. Welcome to America

7

In the Beginning, things happened. The End.

IMMOLATION: Chapter 26

Shafts of sunlight cut through the room, let in by the tall windows on either side of the pulpit. Almost every pew was filled with people dressed in black. Melanie didn't know most of them. Outside was a beautifully warm summer day whereas inside the chapel the air conditioner appeared to be working overtime to prevent those inside from being able to enjoy the weather. The incessant hum from the vents above made Melanie both agitated and drowsy at the same time. Judging by what she could see of the others around her, she was not the only one so affected.

Below the podium at the front of the room were several photographs arranged around wreath that in turn surrounded a large picture of a middle aged man, smiling. As the speakers all took their turn standing at the podium while they shared their thoughts, their memories, their advice, Melanie found it difficult not to let her gaze wander down to the large photograph of her dad. And every time she looked at the picture she choked up and it would take her several minutes to quell her tears.

As the final speaker moved to the podium, Melanie cried quietly into her handkerchief, flanked by Joan on the left and Mike on the right. Joan and mike had both argued against sitting in the family section during the funeral but Melanie had insisted and neither Joan nor Mike could make any more arguments when Melanie's mom stepped in and gave them each a formal invitation to sit with them during the services.

Mike gave up early on in the ceremony trying to hold Melanie as he tried to console her, and she instead held onto his arm. There was something so comforting about having his arm there to hold onto, much more so than having him holding her and Melanie wasn't in any mood to argue with her instincts. Mike glanced over to her from time to time but he otherwise let her be. He was learning.

“...but let us not allow our memories to be tarnished,” The speaker, her uncle, was saying, “By the circumstances surrounding this tragedy. For it is in forgiveness that we will find solace,” He'd always had a way with words. Perhaps that was why he'd been asked to be the closing speaker.

Joan snorted in derision and Melanie elbowed her in the side.

“Sorry,” Joan whispered.

Melanie dabbed at her eyes and stemmed the flow of tears for the time being. Joan was blushing with embarrassment as well as glancing around to see who else had heard her. Melanie doubted anyone else had; Joan, at least, was subtle. But still, now was not the time for pessimism.

Her eyes began to wander back toward the photographs and so, not wanting to begin crying again so soon, she focused her attention on the casket instead. It was empty, of course, except for the few things people had placed inside themselves before the service began. Very few bodies had been recovered from the nuclear power plant, mostly those on the fringes of the complex. Melanie's dad had worked right next to the reactor, where the first explosions hit. Even if they found a way to get in that deep, there probably wasn't anything left for them to bury anyway. Thus the empty coffin.

Melanie began to cry. Mike leaned into her as much as he reasonably could to give her support and Joan patted her on the knee. Melanie rested her head on Mike's shoulder a listened to her uncle as he finished his remarks.

“...whoever it is that brought this disaster upon our family, and the hundreds of other families who have been similarly affected. Just as they blazed a terrifying light into our lives in their attempt to scar and destroy us, so let us burn all the more brightly. For we must be beacons of hope, and not despair. We who have suffered so much can now extend the helping hand to those around us, who too may be suffering, and together we will become so much the stronger.”

Melanie leaned over to Joan and caught her attention.

“Joan,” Melanie said, “Would you burn a little flame for my dad?”

Joan looked at her, uncertain. She'd been instructed not to burn while at the funeral and had every intention of not causing problems here, of all places.

“Please?” Melanie begged, “I know it's stupid, but it would mean a lot to me.”

Joan nodded at last and rested her hand on Melanie's knee. A small flame spread out from the back of her hand until it covered Melanie's knee.

“Someone's been practicing,” Melanie said as the fire continued to burn without scorching her dress or burning her skin.

Joan smiled a wane smile before turning back to watch as the casket was carried down the isle to the waiting hearse outside.

POETRY: LAST WEEK'S POEM

This weekend brings change

School is over, work begins

I'm making movies

Update: This Week

Sorry for the lack of posting this week. I had finals last week and graduation this past Saturday for my MFA in Producing for Film. Lots of family in town and just haven't been able to post. Never fear, I'll be back to speed this Friday.

SHORT STORY: THE BOY AND THE CAR

He could only stand there and watch in horror as the car rolled forward. The was no one else in sight and the little boy wouldn't get out of the way in time. The car bumped up and down and the boy cried out for a few moments and then all was silent.

There was nothing he could do, nothing he could have done, and so he walked away. The empty car and broken boy were swallowed up in the night behind him. He couldn't remember how he got home. He just woke up in his bed the next morning, still dressed and dirty from the previous day.

There was nothing about it on the next days news. He wondered how long it would be before someone found out. Would they be able to trace him to the scene? His heart thumped in painfully in his chest and he skipped breakfast in the hopes of calming his knotted stomach.

Work was unbearable. People laughing, talking, working. All he could do was sit and stare at the screen. And then that night when he tried to fall asleep he kept seeing the little boys face, pleading with him to do something, to save him. The screaming still echoed in his mind.

The next day was the same. He couldn't eat. He couldn't sleep. His supervisor sent him home early to get some rest, thinking he was sick. That night he wrote down a confession but he was too sick now to deliver it. He'd have to wait until morning. For now, he let himself dry heave. Fighting would only prolong it. His heart pounded harder and it wasn't until midnight that his stomach stopped convulsing. And shortly after, his heart stopped hurting.

The next day his supervisor called to check in on him. No answer. The day after that the supervisor called again. No answer. On the third day with still no answer, the supervisor called the police. They found his body curled on the floor. He'd been dead for over two days. They found the confession he'd written but when they got to the place he described they found nothing there.

IMMOLATION: Chapter 25

“This is where her car was found,” The young officer said as he lead Judge Dervin through the parking lot. “We've talked with her friends and coworkers and have confirmed that she frequented the cafe, but...”

They stopped walking and Judge Dervin wiped the sweat from his brow. He never realized how hot Texas was. The officer's continued silence grew uncomfortable.

“But what?” Judge Dervin prompted.

“Your Honor, we've found some disturbing things in your daughters car.”

“Such as?”

The officer pulled out a pad of paper from his pocket and flipped through some pages until he reached the notes he was looking for.

“For one thing,” The officer said, his youthful face showing his discomfort with having to be the one to tell Judge Dervin, “We found plans to the nuclear reactor that was destroyed.”

“She was a nuclear physicist,” Judge Dervin said in defense of his missing daughter.

“Yes,” The officer said, turning to another set of notes, “And she'd marked the plans in exactly the same way that the reactor was destroyed. Your daughter went missing before the reactor was destroyed,” the officer continued, “So these plans couldn't have been a study on the accident.”

Judge Dervin nodded. “I'm sure she'll be able to explain all this once we find her,” He said. He didn't want to believe his daughter could have been a part of that disaster.

“That's not everything,” The officer said and Judge Dervin felt himself droop just a little bit more. “The plans were labeled as one of five.”

“You think there will be more nuclear plants destroyed?” Judge Dervin asked.

The officer shrugged. “We don't know what else they might be targeting,” He said. “We were hoping you'd be able to shed some light on this.”

Judge Dervin shook his head. “We haven't really spoke to one another in quite some time.”

The officer didn't respond to that. Instead he made a note of it on his notepad and resumed walking. Judge Dervin followed.

“The only other thing we found was a list of what we believe are code names for the members of this group.”

The officer handed Judge Dervin the list:

Green Tea, Tea Leaves, Leaves Early, Early Bird, Bird Feather, Feather Weight

“Early Bird,” Judge Dervin mused.

“Do you know who that is?” The officer perked up, ready to write down anything Judge Dervin said, “Is it your daughter?”

Judge Dervin held back his glare. “I am not convinced my daughter was involved with this group. In fact,” He went on, “I think she may have been trying to gatherer evidence against these people and they found out and stopped her before she could tell anyone.”

The officer said nothing but Judge Dervin knew by his expression that he wasn't convinced.

“But anyway,” Judge Dervin continued, “I seem to remember hearing someone referred to as Early Bird not too long ago. I just can't remember where I was or who said it.”

“Well, if you do, let us know,” the officer said and then walked back to the rest of the police leaving Judge Dervin alone with his thoughts.

“Please,” Judge Dervin muttered as he tried to hold back his emotions, “Please Samantha don't do this to me.”