On My Father and On Happiness

Another small hint fiction and a slightly larger story for you. I feel bad for not posting another story yesterday, so I’ll catch up today.

On My Father

He loves peanut butter,
He loves chocolate,
But he hates Reese’s.

On Happiness

When you ache
From all the times you thought you’d fail
And you were sure it was over;
When you thought you were stuck,
And that someone pulls you up.

On Baseball

In honor of spring training and the weather being nicer, I’m posting a short story on baseball, titled: On Baseball. This is shorter than usual, so I might post something a little later on in the day. Stay tuned!

On Baseball

No one has enough time
To sit and watch
A newly installed clock
Behind home plate counts
Down
Until
It’s time to go.

The Dark, Lonely Coffee Shop

This is a short story piece where craft was more of the focus. I wanted to play around with anaphora, which is starting sentences with the same beginning repetitively. I also wanted to try out writing longer sentences. I really like how this story came out. I’m hoping to expand upon it one day so look out for it. Enjoy!

The Dark, Lonely Coffee Shop

In that dark, lonely coffee shop on the other side of town where few people thought to venture—mostly out of made up fear—sat a lonely, middle-aged man whose wife of twenty-two years had passed away prematurely, who had both moved to the neighborhood immediately after being married, before hard economic times and the rezoning of school districts sent their long-time friends, and neighbors, all white, running for Florida where they could retire early from their union jobs and enjoy the benefits they built up over the years without worrying about being taxed into oblivion, despite the fact that Florida’s Republican governor’s lack of approval for universal healthcare and desire to deny global climate change while denying the more frequent superstorms that were slowly, and surely, destroying the coast, where the majority of the sixty-five-and-up crowds, including the lonely, middle-aged man sitting in that dark, lonely coffee shop on the other side of town’s friends and former neighbors, lived.

In that dark, lonely coffee shop on the other side of town where few people thought to venture, the lonely, middle-aged man ordered a small coffee, dark and black, which reminded him of his late wife who had prematurely passed away while fighting cancer for over six years, who had always told him she believed that black coffee was the secret to her living and being able to fight for so long despite the circumstances, who ultimately passed away anyway, but the lonely, middle-aged man was unable to let go of those words because he knew, and was able to see, that his wife truly believed what she had said, that that cup of coffee held more weight than the chemo, which made her feel sicker, and the endless pills of various shapes, sizes and colors. In that dark, lonely coffee shop on the other side of town where few people thought to venture to, the lonely, middle-aged man was reading a folder given to him by the doctor about possible treatments that were all too familiar, but he read them as if it were the first time because a part of him still couldn’t believe that his late wife had actually passed away, and then instinctually ordered that small coffee, dark and black, knowing that there was no reason to rush back home because all of his friends and neighbors who had moved to Florida were still gone, and even if he had gone home to call them and inform them of the news, no one would come back to the old neighborhood because that fear they all shared still existed in their minds, and how would the lonely, middle-aged man whose late wife of twenty-two years find peace from anyone other than his late wife’s words and voice that always calmed him, like on those dark, lonely nights after his friends had run away to Florida?

Orion’s Belt

I’m beginning to get a nice stockpile of work for you all, provided you all still follow me. You’re still interested, right? I haven’t forgot about you. This is my last semester so it is constantly crunch time. My thesis is coming along nicely. I’m working on my first revision. In the coming days and weeks, I’ll have a good mix of short stories, poems, and microfiction for you all. To start, I have a small microfiction piece I came up with after reading some kind of article online. Hope you enjoy. Keep an eye out tomorrow for something new.

Orion’s Belt

Have you ever thought about the stars where their light finally reaches us, sometimes long after they’re already gone? Do they ever run out of light? Is there a known case where a well-known star ran out of light, vanished forever? What happens to its constellation? Does it disappear or could it create something new? Could you imagine Orion’s Belt without its center star? Would Orion notice he’s missing a belt buckle?

Crossroad

Continuing with the theme of using pictures as prompts, I wrote another quick story for you guys. I love the contrast going on with the picture. There’s so much going on in this moment of time. Hope you enjoy as much as I did.

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Crossroad

The autumn air isn’t as cool as it normally is this time of year. One frost was all it took to change the leaves from green to yellow and orange and red. Children play tag, slaloming around the tree trunks while their anxious mothers yell for them to slow down. Squirrels leap from tree to tree while birds fly down to scavenge the crumbs of hot pretzels and nuts from carts outside the park. One of the boys trips and falls, his mother shoots up instantly, scalding the boys for acting so carelessly. His younger sister looks on and cries for her heated mother. Runners stride past, seeing the commotion, but quickly shifting their focus back to their pace. Without work to worry about, their lives have become their mile times, they compensate with brightly colored running tights and shoes that match the colors of the trees.

It’s eleven in the morning, and Blake has already been hard at work for six straight hours. The elevator is out today. He’s a janitor in a large office building on the upper west side. He hasn’t felt the sun on his skin yet, only the cold, autumn breeze seeping through the windows he’s washing. The clouds took over early, hiding the moon, forcing him to stare at the passing street lights while on the El. Constantly walking up and down the long flights of stairs with all his cleaning supplies wears him out. He takes his lunch early, climbing down the stairs accepting the fact he’ll have to again climb back up. Every step he takes makes his legs shake. The further he descends, the louder the car horns blare. The louder they blare, the harder his head pounds. The stairwell starts spinning and he desperately grabs hold of the banister. He sits on the stairwell and cries. All that’s on his mind his home, hoping this job is only temporary. Out the window, he sees the trees full over color. A smile barely breaks through the surface.

In the Fog

Hi everyone, I liked how my story came out yesterday so I did something similar tonight. I used another picture as inspiration for this short flash fiction piece, and I think this is pretty good too. Enjoy!

Here’s the picture: 26116134450_cbafb10429_z.jpg

 

In the Fog

The fog looked as soft as the moss we were stepping on as we attempted to walk through the forest. It was fall, and cold, and rainy, and the leaves on the trees were all dead. The wind must have blown all the leaves away, we thought, as we stepped carefully over the fallen rocks realizing the ground was bare. There were no chipmunks or squirrels flying through the trees or looking on the ground for nuts and acorns. We were alone with no sense of where we were going. No initial plan, no GPS, no food. No sun, no moon. With night creeping in fast, and no tent, the trees too small to climb up, we found a small cave to huddle in for warmth. We had a lighter, but the branches were wet from the rain. After violently shivering for nearly the entire night, we finally managed to close our eyes. Soon after, we don’t know what—something large—made its presence known.

Roller Coaster

I know its almost 1:30am, and technically tomorrow, meaning that I missed my deadline, but oh well! Also, since it’s late, and I’m incredibly tired, I wrote a hint fiction piece. For those of you who follow my blog, I’ve done this many times in the past. I learned about hint fiction during my undergrad at Queens College. For those that haven’t followed my blog, or don’t know about hint fiction, hint fiction is a story that is twenty five words or less. This took a lot longer than you would expect, but I’m pretty happy with how it turned out! I hope you are too. Tomorrow, I’ll write something longer. Enjoy.

Roller Coaster

Feeling every little bump,
he grips the bar tightly.
His heart can’t take it,
and feels it, smiling,
as he goes down one last time.