Very Slight Stories | Like short stories, only shorter.





'Darcy and O'Mara' is a novel by Arthur Cronin.
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Tuesday, October 11, 2005

 

Love in the Air

   Terry stops to tie his laces on a long green lawn, and a tree tree tree, tree. There's only one tree but its presence is four times greater than that of Terry.
   Polly Polly Polly Polly Polly Polly Polly Polly.
   At the most, she'd just be 'Polly Polly' if she wasn't wearing that T-shirt.
   The little birds and love-related words in the air, shoes on the ground where Polly took off her shoes. She moves in slow motion through the flowers. He walks towards her, looking into her eyes, a breeze in her hair. He stops to pick a flower for her.
   The cat cat cat cat cat. Tree tree tree tree. The cat fell out of the tree.










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Henry Seaward-Shannon
A Walk in the Rain
The East Cork Patents Office
Mizzenwood
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.

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.







Very Slight Stories: like short stories, only shorter

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