Short Fiction

Today I've been working on some short fiction experiments and I'm enjoying that form so much. Some journals take only 500 or less words and others will take pieces with up to 1000 words. It's such a rewarding exercise--I love boundaries that push me to write better, to choose words carefully.

And then I get on this blog and try not to be too sloppy.

The sky is darkening outside. In about five minutes I will see the bus drive up and flash its lights as Merry climbs off--she always waits for just a moment and then she shoots down the road, backpack bobbing behind, all the way down our greening side yard, and through our gate where she slows down, giving me enough time to rush down the stairs to welcome her. In winter she'd pause at the bottom of the porch steps to stuff as much snow as possible into her mouth, furtively because I don't like them eating too much snow. I'd stand there in the shadows of the hallway, watching her shovel mittenfulls past her lips.

Our yearly ten trees are leaning against the shed, waiting for a dry, warmish day--only one fruit this year as we have as many as we can handle.

Oh, there's Merry now, turning a little twirl by the fire hydrant, so I'd better hurry!