Story 3
For a day the queen and vagrant posed as each other. The queen smelled pigeons as the vagrant bit into strawberries. For lunch the queen was kicked in the ear; the vagrant had the eunuchs. Orchids showered the park as her Majesty found relief under the petals. Ink splattered treaties while Turk ambassadors dogged the vagrant. They did this every season.
At supper, the queen bathed in the tavern toilet water. The vagrant fainted into the Baths of Gratzi with their thousand swans under the lunar eclipse. Behind the gates, they made love knowing it would next be under snowfall.
Thursday, June 19, 2008
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
100-word Story a Day Challenge cont.
Story 2
A single blue crab gripped the inside of the cage Eric hauled out the Chesapeake. His boat mimicked the dance he made around Nati-Boh cans, sloshed in starlight. Eric dropped the cage onto the deck and did not care it was broke open.
The 20ft vessel shook as its outboard started. Eric darted between buoys and slurred his daughter’s name into the spotlight. She would be in front, waiting for another boat ride, if he could say her name sober. He focused into the distance and opened his throat. Eric yelped as the crab’s pinchers tore into his sandaled toes.
A single blue crab gripped the inside of the cage Eric hauled out the Chesapeake. His boat mimicked the dance he made around Nati-Boh cans, sloshed in starlight. Eric dropped the cage onto the deck and did not care it was broke open.
The 20ft vessel shook as its outboard started. Eric darted between buoys and slurred his daughter’s name into the spotlight. She would be in front, waiting for another boat ride, if he could say her name sober. He focused into the distance and opened his throat. Eric yelped as the crab’s pinchers tore into his sandaled toes.
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
100-word Story a Day Challenge
The fine folks at the Fabulist have issued a challenge to their readers, the writing portion doing with posting a 100-word story a day (for how long I do not know). It sounds like way too much frolic and fun to pass up, so...
Story 1
Silas jerks the stirring wheel and pain rips his shoulder. He stops the truck; the slender figure from the trail darts into the underbrush. “Goddamn deer,” he exhales, climbing out of the Rover. He turns off the CB as park chatter spills out. Silas hears faint, rushed breathes, smells jasmine on the air, feels humidity between trees.
Silas carries his first aid kit to where the bush quivers. Instead of snout he sees small white palms. Instead of antlers he sees moth wings. He falls into the laughing woman. Crows avoid his corpse long after the woods fill with flashlights.
Story 1
Silas jerks the stirring wheel and pain rips his shoulder. He stops the truck; the slender figure from the trail darts into the underbrush. “Goddamn deer,” he exhales, climbing out of the Rover. He turns off the CB as park chatter spills out. Silas hears faint, rushed breathes, smells jasmine on the air, feels humidity between trees.
Silas carries his first aid kit to where the bush quivers. Instead of snout he sees small white palms. Instead of antlers he sees moth wings. He falls into the laughing woman. Crows avoid his corpse long after the woods fill with flashlights.
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