Short Story #2

Every Friday, or on days when Dad went on fishing trips, Mom would pick me up from school during her break, and bring me to the Anchorage public library, where she worked at the checkout counters. I would always look forward to these visits to the library, because I was different. I had a superpower, one that only revealed itself within those heavily air conditioned walls. Only it’s gone now, and I know exactly who to blame.

Burnt

Something I wrote for my creative writing class. It's nothing special, just a first attempt at writing anything of decent length. I'm halfway through my next piece, so I'll post that as well once I'm done, yep yep.

When I was around 10 years old, a group of men in funny clothing kidnapped me and bluntly informed me that I had invented the pop up toaster. Or, more specifically, that I hadn’t invented the toaster yet, but due to anomalies in the space-time continuum, they had deemed it necessary to place me in a more desirable temporal plane. If this is confusing at all to anyone, then please sympathize with my feelings at the time, a poor boy without a clue as to what a toaster was. Being kidnapped, yeah, whatever, that too.

BenchWarMer

The man clung to the left armrest of a bench that comfortably seated two, or uncomfortably seated three. Currently, however, four torsos were waging war against the others in a struggle for neither wealth nor power nor a combination of the two, but for the excellent relaxation only a bench can provide. The man had arrived first, and refused to abdicate. The woman had just broken up with him, and could not leave in shame. The old woman’s back had gone out, and the young boy was merely bored.

A passerby, amused, watched this scene from the opposite bench, alone.

I'm back! Sort of. I'm taking a creative writing course this quarter, so I felt I should try and get back into the writing swing of things. As you can tell, I'm a bit rusty. 100 words are as cramped as a bench with four people on it. 

Don't read this

"Do you believe in reverse psychology?"

"Yes, but I don't want to talk about it."

"...Oh. Okay."

I did not intend to write this. It just...happened, okay?

Moew, said the cat, although it would be incorrect to say that it said anything really, as cats do not have the capacity to speak at all, which isn't really true, but if you look at speaking in the context of human abilities then you would understand my point, a point which really had no relevance to the story at all, the story of the cat speaking, meowing, whatever, you know what, just shut up okay I don't really want to talk about it my day hasn't been so hot I mean here I am talking about a talking cat.

Sanguinolent Tides

Wow, the water is red!

Ah, you’re right. Do you know the story behind this bloody tide? Come closer.  Long ago, a man proposed to his beloved here. Such happiness. Yet, no love is perfect, and soon the woman strayed. The man, enraged, brought her here again. Blinded by anger, he lifted a knife, only to have another plunged into his back by the woman. Even now, his blood flows through these waters, eternally betrayed.

What a fascinating story. Although, you could have just said it was an algal bloom.

Remind me never to take you to the beach, okay?

Board

Son, having a conversation is like playing a game of chess.

It’s your move.

You need to plan ahead, speaking and listening before either has taken place. You need to know what they will say before you ever give them the chance to say it. It is an art, son, an art.

And? It’s still your move.

And? And what?

And what if they don’t say what you want them to say?

In that case, you should stare blankly at them for 10 minutes, thinking of your next move. In both scenarios, your partners like to walk away.

Check mate.