|Very Slight Stories | Like short stories, only shorter.||
Tuesday, August 23, 2005
Annabel and David
Annabel looks through a magazine on the plane, the sun shining in on her face. An air hostess hands her a glass of champagne.
She waits on the lawn for Chloe, in her all-white tennis outfit. She takes a practise swing with her racket.
In the evening she stands on another lawn with David. She looks at her red finger nails. David watches the game of croquet. Emma laughs after she misses the ball completely. David takes a sip of his drink and says to Annabel, "This is just like Romeo and Juliet... Only without the drunk swans."
She sighs and shakes her head as she wonders if she can let this one pass. She looks at the sky and shakes her head again. She looks down, with her hand on her forehead. She really wants to forget about this, but she can't. She points behind her at the swans swaying from side to side. One of them falls over. He looks at them and says, "Ahhhh."
The Tree and the Horse
A Walk in the Rain
The East Cork Patents Office
Words are my favourite noises
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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.
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?"
She was sick of people asking her that too.
More blogs about Storytelling.