Very Slight Stories | Like short stories, only shorter.





'Darcy and O'Mara' is a novel by Arthur Cronin.
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Tuesday, January 24, 2006

 

Emmet and Elaine

   She leant across the top of the piano and sang a song. They sat in silence on the patio. She told him she was a nurse. If she had told him this while they were on the patio they would have had something to talk about, but she told him while they were surfing. "A nurse?" he said while she was buying a hat.
   Ronan stood at the open window and said, "It was one of those days. Every day is one of those days. A grey sky. The smell of paint is the only thing that gives these days any sort of character. Listening to Maisy talk about the keys. She doesn't say much and what she does say is about the keys." He threw a boomerang into the field, and then he closed the window. "Lost keys and lost days doing nothing at all, nothing to distinguish one day from the next, all one day in the mind." The boomerang came back and broke the window. "I really didn't think that would happen."
   Emmet looked at the broken glass on the ground. Then he turned to Elaine and said, "You're really a nurse?"










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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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