| Very Slight Stories | Like short stories, only shorter. |
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Tuesday, May 03, 2005The sun begins to set
He lights a cigarette and looks towards the horizon. She sighs and looks down.
Tree: His foot is caught in a snare, but he's trying to act casual because she just told him that she's been offered a job in New Zealand. "New, ahm... who?" he says. Gate: What the tree failed to point out was that the job is throwing fridges off cliffs to test them. She sighs again and says, "It's the chance of a lifetime, but..." "The..." Tree: I should also point out that the gate hasn't been quite right since a Ford Transit backed into it. "I just don't know what to do." Gate: A bird landed in the tree once, and then it just fell over, the bird. For no reason whatsoever. "It's such a long way away." "I... who?" Tree: People are always saying that there's a funny smell off the gate. That's why they leave it open. "It's a huge decision." "Shoe." Gate: Someone carved the word 'Slow' on the tree, and now everyone calls it 'Slow'. That's why the bird fell over. |
The Tree and the Horse Henry Seaward-Shannon A Walk in the Rain The East Cork Patents Office Mizzenwood Words are my favourite noises Archive Links:
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| very slight stories |
They Met a Bear They stopped in a small seaside town and they went for a walk. They met a bear. This is one version of the story. In another version, they met a sailor, and in this one they ended up being held at gunpoint on a speedboat and becoming unwilling participants in a diamond robbery while disguised as a cow, and sharing in the proceeds of that crime. So when they tell the story they just say, "We met a bear. He waved at us." The Story of the Fortune Teller and the Alarm Clock A fortune teller threw an alarm clock at me. This story is deliberately lacking in details to mock the predictions of the fortune teller. Although she was right when she said she'd throw an alarm clock at me. Counting One. Two. Three, the study. Four, a candle stick. Five. Six... Seven is missing, presumed dead. One has taken up the case, and two is helping him in his investigations. They both suspect six. Seven was last seen next to six in the garden. But seven isn't really dead. He's consumed half a bottle of whiskey and he's currently in the orchard, talking to a rabbit. "One of us is as boring as a gate post," he says, "and it's not..." He stops to count on his fingers. "No, actually it is me." Eight nine ten. Debbie and his dog Debbie was sick of people mistaking her for a man. "Is your dog my parole officer?" "No." She was sick of people asking her that too. 
More blogs about Storytelling. 
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