55 Word Story
So, I’ve been staying with some friends. Silas and I. It has been difficult, but I couldn’t stand living in the demolition zone any longer. It is not a separation from Paul as much as it is a separation from the house. I had become so depressed that I lifting myself from the bed was becoming impossible. Mascara a herculean effort. Paul is taking this time to put our home back together and I hope he does it quickly.
In the meantime, I have been listening to a collection of 55 word short stories about love and death. The collection itself is not really very good. But, the idea was inspiring. Since, I don’t have too much to give, 55 words seemed managable.
Second Storm
They had stayed here– in this den– three year’s ago during the ice storm.
They had watched a film, drunk wine, made love– passionately– on the day bed in the middle of the night.
Now she’s here again. Work clothes packed haphazardly in a suitcase. Toothpaste and a paperback book.
Alone.
Wounded and alone.
March 29th, 2009 at 8:20 am
you have validated the whole idea for the collection. i hate that you had to write this story, but it’s pretty awesomely poetic. now you must read amy hempel. her stories are a bit longer than 55 words, but not much. they have the same kind of punch. love you.