NEW! .4K Writing Competition: A Season to Be Brief

[Nanohedron]

OK, I'm in.

Entry:



“Sir! Sir! Got a cigarette?”

Jack turned and oriented his eyes to the fellow he had just passed by a few yards already. What was up with that, the delayed-reaction panhandle? Jack always knew when a passerby was a candidate to give him the pitch; he could see it every time, even from a couple of blocks away. Still, he never got used to having people beg while addressing his receding back. It was just plain creepy. Jack took in the figure and decided to give the fellow a smoke.

“Got a light?”

“Sure; here you go, then.”

“Thank you, sir. Thank you.”

“No problem.”

Jack turned to go on his way, and heard the fellow spit.

[Cal]

Ok, I'll stop lurking and come out of the woodwork... you've only yourself to blame. It's just a short one...


Taking the P...

John liked trees. He was absolutely certain that trees liked him too. He was even more certain they liked him when he was hugging one, especially one of those slender silver birches that grew on the hill. His terrier Jack like trees too, especially when he was dribbling on one.

Today, as he hugged one of his favourite trees, John couldn't get the thought of toilet seats out of his mind. They were wooden toilet seats of course, not the sleek modern white ones, nor the old dark Bakelite ones, simply wooden ones - pine ones, teak ones, and even blue painted ones. What they also had in common was that the seats were down but the lids were up. He wondered whether the silver birch was hinting that from her perspective there might be more to the Feng Shui of open toilet lids than he'd allowed. He'd always scoffed at the concept of money pouring down an open toilet.

John pulled his kaftan straight under his Arran sweater and hugged the birch more closely, allowing his cheek to rest against the damp bark. He remembered his mother instructing him to lift the toilet seat before relieving himself. He remembered female flat-mates moaning about the seat being left up. He considered the injustice of being born male and having to decide at crucial moments whether to approach the toilet forwards or backwards and to raise the whole seat or just the lid as appropriate.

'This is the best thing about living in a forest commune', he said to Jack, 'being able to commune with nature and gain insight into the mysteries of the universe'. Jack cocked his head on one side, stared quizzically, then turned and trotted off to water a particularly fine oak.

[Will O'B]

Will, that's a cute but oddly disturbing tale.

Well, I guess that's because I'm just a cute but oddly disturbing kind of guy.

It's also, 200+ words above maximum word allowance. Some nice entries served as window dressing last time because of length-ineligibility.

Yeah, I know it weighed in over the limit, but I figured what the heck. I've had many a fine, and not so fine, publication tell me in very creative ways that I have no writing talent. I certainly have no illusions that any words I happen to string together here would ever win me anything, especially when I read what the rest of you write. It's fun just to have a place to post some of this stuff, and to be able to read other people's stuff as well. BTW, thanks for going to the trouble of actually counting the number of words in the piece - - was it really that boring?

Will O'Ban

[Nanohedron]

I liked it. I'm still wondering about the lump on his head.

[emmline]

BTW, thanks for going to the trouble of actually counting the number of words in the piece - - was it really that boring?

Will O'Ban

Will...quit with the self-deprecation...I liked it! cute, odd, and disturbing are all ways of life with me.
(it just seemed long, so I let the mac do a word count.)
Emily

[emmline]

Ok...one more, then I'll bug off for a spell:

Entry:

Arty Conover


Arty Conover pulled a lone chair away from the fireplace, and pushed it under table 5. He gave the dining room a satisfied nod and shuffled back into the kitchen with his carpet sweeper.

Cleaning up after the old folks, that’s what he did. After they all went to bed. He pulled a torn napkin and a bit of blue yarn out of the sweeper’s head, then wheeled it into the closet.

Yep. Arty kept it clean all right. He spotted a dried up noodle on the stainless steel counter, and gave it a quick scrub, wincing as his finger joints burned with arthritis. Then he wrung out the dishrag and shuffled back to the dining room to give the tabletops a once over.

Dang. That chair by the fireplace again. He thought he put them all back but couldn’t trust his own memory anymore. There you go chair. Get under the table now, and stay there. Arty picked a piece of blue yarn off the chair’s seat, and carried the trash can to the dumpster outside the kitchen’s back door.

Ok trash can. There you go. Back to your spot in the dining room. Arty squinted at the fireplace. There was a chair next to it. He shook his head. Dang he wished he could still think. He pushed the chair under the table, picked a bit of blue yarn off the floor, and shuffled back into the kitchen.

Arty liked helping with the old folks, and he liked it quiet, after hours. He was proud that he could take care of himself. Not that he could afford this kind of place anyway, but he got by.

The moon was full and bright as Arty started his walk home, but the wind nipped his ears, and he tucked his hands deep into his jacket pockets expecting to feel, as usual, the torn inner lining. Instead his right hand hit a soft wad. He pulled it out. A stocking cap, crocheted of blue yarn. Where did you come from hat? Arty wished he could remember, but there it was. He pulled the soft edges over his ears and shuffled home.

[susnfx]

I'm concerned about the possible, although admittedly not immediately recognizable, disparagement of tree-huggers in Cal's story. I'll let it go - this time.

However, the story did remind me of my odd brother-in-law who, on moving to a rather isolated house, peed on all the cedar trees around it to keep the coyotes out of his territory and supposedly protect the dog.

Susan

[IDAwHOa]

However, the story did remind me of my odd brother-in-law who, on moving to a rather isolated house, peed on all the cedar trees around it to keep the coyotes out of his territory and supposedly protect the dog.

Susan

Makes note to self to refer to this once new house is built in Idaho.....

[fearfaoin]

I'm concerned about the possible, although admittedly not immediately recognizable, disparagement of tree-huggers in Cal's story.

I first thought Cal was going for the usual knee-jerk reaction for the term "tree-hugger".
But it turns out even the tree-hugger who has moved into a commune with like minded
naturalists still cannot escape his sociotechnological bonds enough to be as close to
nature as his dog.

[Will O'B]

Will...quit with the self-deprecation...
Emily

Not a real attractive trait, I know. Something I always need to keep an eye on. Just feeling down on myself more than usual lately, I guess. Oh, well . . . I just need to get over it.

I enjoyed both of your pieces also, Em. The second one more so, because it reminded me of some of the older folks that I've known on and off throughout my life. That piece displayed a certain warmth.

Will O'Ban

[Bloomfield]

Will...quit with the self-deprecation...
Emily

Not a real attractive trait, I know. Something I always need to keep an eye on. Just feeling down on myself more than usual lately, I guess. Oh, well . . . I just need to get over it.

LOL!

[Will O'B]

Will...quit with the self-deprecation...
Emily

Not a real attractive trait, I know. Something I always need to keep an eye on. Just feeling down on myself more than usual lately, I guess. Oh, well . . . I just need to get over it.

LOL!

Wondered when someone would pick up on that

[Will O'B]

I liked it. I'm still wondering about the lump on his head.

Thanks. Scar tissue from his recent lobotomy by his good buddy Beerbaum, perhaps?

Will O'Ban

[Nanohedron]

I liked it. I'm still wondering about the lump on his head.

Thanks. Scar tissue from his recent lobotomy by his good buddy Beerbaum, perhaps?

Will O'Ban

There IS that. Forgot about the lump mine left for a while. Had to tell everyone I banged my head on the fridge reaching for a beer.

[Will O'B]

I liked it. I'm still wondering about the lump on his head.

Thanks. Scar tissue from his recent lobotomy by his good buddy Beerbaum, perhaps?

Will O'Ban

There IS that. Forgot about the lump mine left for a while. Had to tell everyone I banged my head on the fridge reaching for a beer.

Forgetfulness can be a lobotomy by-product - - or so I've been told. But I can't seem to remember by whom.

Will O'Ban