| Very Slight Stories | Like short stories, only shorter. |
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Tuesday, July 26, 2005By the Sea
Bill and Adam stand in an empty car park near the sea, a strong breeze blowing litter over the ground around them. The only sound is from the seagulls and the breeze. A piece of paper rolls along the ground. Adam points at it and says, "That's where you went to school." Bill looks down as it passes by, carried away by the breeze.
After a wedding they stand in the church yard and pose for photos. They wait in the background as the family photos are being taken. Susanne puts her hat on a dog and laughs. Bill points at the dog and says to Adam, "That's what you look like." Adam looks down at the dog and the dog looks back up at him. On a quiet beach, Bill looks out to sea, the wind on his face. Adam is a few yards away, looking down the beach. The only sound is from the wind and a barking dog. A small grey house moves around on the sand and then runs away with the dogs. "That's where you live," Adam says as he points at the house and the dogs. The dog from the wedding ended up judging the swimsuit section of a beauty contest, all because he was wearing a hat. He looked very thoughtful in the hat, and people valued his opinion. |
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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