Jim the Writer

a literary blog

Featured

Fragment of a memoir

By

poster: 100 words of fiction“The thing is,” Papa said, “everybody gets that story wrong. They always think the baby died.”

“Well, sure,” I said. “What else?”

Papa shook his head. “The baby didn’t die. The mother doesn’t want the shoes.” He finished his gin martini and motioned to the barkeep for another.

The fan turned ponderously above our heads.

“But why?” I asked.

“The shoes are a gift from the mother-in-law. You see? There’s a conflict. The women don’t get along. The ad is a knife in the ribs.”

“That’s a lot of iceberg under the water.”

Papa grinned and raised his glass. “Salute!”

I wrote this story for the 100 Word Challenge: “Memoir” at Thin Spiral Notebook.

If the gods be merciful

By

The good people of Kal were fixing to burn another witch. The event would close the Festival of the Tyrant’s Demise. “Third one this week,” Proffer said as we watched the wood-stack grow. “They must like the smell. The evil–”

“Judge not, lest you be judged,” I said hastily. And in a lower voice: “Be careful, my friend.”

Proffer narrowed his eyes, but spoke more softly. “You’re right, of course. I’m sorry.”

“We’ll move on before the lighting.”

He sighed, and glanced toward the great temple. “Do you think she has confessed?”

“If the gods be merciful,” I said.

I wrote this fiction for the 100 Word Challenge: “Tyrant” at Thin Spiral Notebook.

See Part II of this story: Her name is Future

What Else You Can’t Do

By

 

He had no music in him, never had.

In fourth grade, before the Christmas pageant, a desperate teacher ordered him to lip-sync “The Little Drummer Boy.” Decades later, a grown man, it still made him sad.

“You can’t dance,” a woman told him over the booming bass at a grad school party. “It makes me wonder what else you can’t do.” A nasty sly smile. A mean drunk, he thought. He wanted her anyway.

He wanted to sing “Drummer Boy.” He wanted to dance. He wanted the music to lift him up and waft him away, but it never did.

I wrote this story for the 100 Word Challenge: “Music” at Thin Spiral Notebook.

Timing is Everything

By

Fellowes, carrying orders for the 3rd Division, stood in the sandy track, clutching the dispatch case against his side like a talisman. Across the field, smoke rose from a distant blue tree-line.

Small groups of men moved about the field. Fellowes started toward one group. All around him, dark shapes lay in the stubble. He avoided looking at them. He couldn’t avoid smelling them.

His way was blocked by a silent tangle of men and horses. At his feet was a kepi with a sky-blue clover leaf on its top.

Fellowes let out his breath.

He’d found the 3rd Division.

I wrote this story for the 100 Word Challenge #380 at Velvet Verbosity.

The Tiny Shop of Hope

By

She was a writer, working on a book about antique furniture restoration. Her research was a collection of disparate facts.

No theme, no center. Would it ever come together? Would anyone care if it did not? Aside from her publisher, of course, whose deadlines were scratched in granite.

She went on searching. It’s what you did. You went on. Today, she found herself in a two-light town west of the city, alone, standing at the threshold of a shop on a musty side street, her hand trembling as she reached for the knob, her heart full of something like hope.

I wrote this story for the 100 Word Challenge #379 at Velvet Verbosity.