WRITING EXERCISEAnswer any of the questions below as briefly as possible, writing down your first response. (If you like, refer back to the Writing Exercise you did in Chapter 2: Truth in Fiction). Then set a timer for 60 seconds. Use one of your answers to write the opening of a short story—one paragraph or more. Now re-set the timer for 30 minutes and finish the story. You don’t have much time, so just keep writing. Don’t worry about craft or structure. Write until the timer stops. Remember Neil’s advice: you can start a short story at any point in the narrative.• What was the most embarrassing thing you’ve experienced in the past few years?• When was the last time you cried, and what caused it?• What shocked you so much you were speechless?Watching the vandalism and arson on Lincoln Mall live in Facebook.• What was the very best or worst moment of your childhood?• Have you fantasized about revenge recently? Against whom?• Pretend you’re on your deathbed, looking back at your life—who did you love the most? Be brutally honest.
The crashing of glass was coming from every direction. The frightened rabbit ducked behind a small bush, terrified by all the noises. His nose twitched, smelling so many new and terrible things around him. A loud bang made him pop in the air, bouncing six inches straight up, before racing across the sidewalk and into the tall grass on the other side.
A teenage squirrel had also taken refuge there, surrounded by the local foliage and along a cement wall. They exchanged looks, both confused and distressed. Bright lights flashing sporadically made them both jump, the squirrel springing high enough to land on the window sill and scurring away. The rabbit hunkered down, ears flattened against his back, trembling at the unknown cacophony assailing him.
What could possibly be going on so late at night? Yelling and bursts of loud noise had woken him and brought him out of his little hideaway. He could see large groups of people congregating in front of a building, shouting and waving their long arms at another group of humans on the other side of the street. The tension was almost a living thing, writhing its way between the crowds, moving and encouraging them into a greater frenzy.
Suddenly the air took on a new scent, one that was spicy and stinging at the same time. The little rabbit blinked rapidly, trying to clear the moisture streaming from his eyes. The ground beneath him pounded as humans ran past his hiding spot. As the stinging only increased, he ran wildly out of the grass, ricocheting off someone’s leg and tumbling into the street. From the little he could see, a mass of humans was heading in his direction, walking in a straight and solemn line. He tumbled back, tripping over his gangly legs, racing directionless up the street.
When his feet finally connected with grass, he slowed his pace and shook his head, trying to get a sense of his surroundings. He’d reached a tree, which lay between the street and walkway. Looking around, he saw a patch of juniper bushes about thirty feet away, across another thoroughfare and beyond another collection of humans. These were standing quietly, a silent herd of people holding similar items in their hands.
He took a step or two away from the tree, tentatively feeling out how the humans would react. They didn’t appear to notice his existence, concentrating only on each other and the white objects in their hands. He took another couple of steps and, when they still hadn’t looked in his direction, raced full tilt towards the bushes. Once inside he breathed a sigh of relief, grateful for the clear air and quieter surroundings. He nosed some fallen leaves into a small pile and then nuzzled his way into them, like a dog circling before finding a comfortable position in which to lay. The occasional smash of windows breaking and random screams of upset humans caused him to raise his head in concern, but even those died out after a time.
What a strange night for the little rabbit, clearly unaware of the great and dreadful happenings in the human world around him.
One year later
The cafe was nearly empty. They’d stayed way past the normal crowd, to the point that the waiter was glaring at them behind their backs. The two women were so focused on their conversation they hadn’t noticed any of it.
“And that’s how I ended up working at ‘Sensuous Titles Delivered’,” Keira finished.
Her dinner companion burst out laughing. “Are you saying that after having one of the worst relationships known to man, you ended up working at a romance novel publishing house whose acronym is STD?!”
“It sounds worse when you say it like that,” Keira grumbled. “And it’s not like I planned it that way, Miriam. After things fell apart with Mark, everything happened so fast. My apartment was already packed up because we’d planned to move everything once we got back from the honeymoon. Since my landlord had already rented it out, I only had two weeks to figure out what I was going to do. I hated Seattle and knew I wasn’t staying there, but I also couldn’t bring myself to move home to Kansas City. I knew I wanted to live in a metropolitan area, so I started applying for any editing positions I could find, from Los Angeles to New York City. This was the only one that offered me a job that started immediately, so I took it. About a month later I was asked to interview for a great position in New York, but I’d just started this job, finished unpacking and wasn’t about to uproot my life yet again.”
“Well, I’m glad you landed here,” Miriam said, patting Keira’s hand affectionately. “It’s nice to know another person in the Chicago area. I just wish I’d known you were here sooner. There’s so much to do and it’s always more fun with a friend.”
Keira smiled. “Thanks. I’m glad I noticed on Facebook that you’d moved here too. It’s been a little lonely, but good. I’ve had the space to get over everything that happened and to start rebuilding my confidence and self esteem. No matter how many times you tell yourself it wasn’t your fault or it’s his loss, you can’t help but feel like you weren’t enough. You weren’t worth the risk. That you were the reason why it didn’t work out...if only you’d said something different, done something different, swallowed your pride and begged, then you would have ended up with your happily-ever-after,” she said, finishing off her scotch in one quick swallow. “Rationally I know even if it had worked out in the moment, it wouldn’t have ended well. It’s not like he would have magically become dependable, simply because he was wearing a wedding ring. Thankfully ‘time heals all wounds’ isn’t a complete lie. It’s allowed for some perspective and distance, for things to fade, and makes it easier to not replay everything in an endless loop. So I’m taking my time and things have slowly gotten better.”
As Miriam reached out to pat Keira’s hand again, she glanced at her watch. “Holy crap! Do you have any idea what time it is?”
Keira checked her phone. “Midnight?! We’ve been here four hours! When did that happen? We should get out of here. I think they closed at least a half hour ago!” She grabbed her purse, leaving a disgustingly good tip on the table as they hurriedly made their escape.
Once outside, hugs were exchanged and promises made to get together again soon. Since they’d lost touch after college, they were determined not to let another four years go by before hanging out again. When she got in her car, Keira even added a reminder to her calendar to text Miriam in a week to find time when they could meet for dinner.
One of the few good things about being on the road at midnight was the lack of traffic. The normally forty-five minute drive during rush hour only took twenty. Finding parking near her Brownstone was a different story. It took an additional ten minutes to find a spot almost two blocks away. She walked quickly, both grateful to not see anyone out and a little uncomfortable with how oddly quiet it was at that time of night.
As she strode home, she passed her favorite row house on the block - a stately home of white painted brick and thickly trimmed windows, beautifully contrasted in black. Whoever lived there must have a green thumb, because the flower boxes hanging from the first floor windows were overflowing with red geraniums. Keira wondered if the inside was as classy looking and wished she were friends with the owners so she could see for herself. Her steps briefly slowed as she imagined how she’d decorate it, mimicking the exterior with white walls and ornate black crown molding and baseboards, a few well placed pieces of colorful art and giant, built-in dark wood bookcases. The sound of a distant car alarm brought her out of the daydream and she quickly hurried on.
Keira walked up the steps of her beige stone building. Built in 1903, it was an end unit nestled beside one of red brick. She liked the contrast between these types of older dwellings. Each one had a personality, as opposed to the newer cookie cutter versions in the more affluent parts of town. Those felt like they were trying too hard to look “hip and edgy,” with lots of giant windows and exposed steel beams, each somehow just a duplicate of the last. What hers lacked in edge it made up for in coziness. The rooms were long and narrow, with high ceilings and an inordinate number of sherpa throw blankets on each floor. Her roommate was a petite, perpetually cold blonde named Samantha, who managed Keira’s love affair with air conditioning by wearing slippers and wrapping herself up in a blanket whenever she was home, which was infrequently. As a flight attendant, she was traipsing the globe more days than not. In her quest for solitude, Keira couldn’t have found a better situation.
After locking the front door behind her, Keira crossed the living room and made her way into the kitchen. She placed her purse on one of the stools abutting the marble-topped island. Samantha’s parents owned the Brownstone and had remodeled it a couple years ago, sparing almost no expense for their only child (the request for heated floors had been shot down). The kitchen was a modest size, but very functional, with lots of storage packed into a small space. It even had a tiny pantry with a skinny glass door. Keira added water to an electric kettle sitting on the counter and grabbed her peppermint tea, scrolling thru her phone and turning on some music while she waited.
Once the tea had finished steeping, Keira grabbed her mug and phone before heading back to the living room. She picked up the book she was currently reading and headed for the stairs, trying not to spill her tea while navigating up the two flights. Keira had the whole third floor to herself, since Samatha used the master suite on the second floor and her parents stayed in the guestroom down the hall from it when they were in town.
Keira set the book and tea on the nightstand and quickly went through her nightly routine before donning a t-shirt and shorts and climbing into bed. “TGIF, am I right?” she commented to the hardback as she got comfortable, thankful that she didn’t have to get up at an ungodly hour for work the next morning. A natural night owl, turning out her light before 1:00am was an unusual occurrence.
Reaching for her phone to change the music to something less peppy, the haunting strains of Christina Perri’s “Jar of Hearts” began emanating from it. Even before she looked at the screen, she knew the initials MC would be glowing up at her.
This wasn’t the first time Mark Crawford had tried calling late at night. She could picture him having just gotten home from hanging out with friends, wandering around his lonely apartment. In the years she’d known him before they started dating, he’d never done well being on his own, single and unattached. Every couple of months she’d get a random “hi” text or late night call. Sometimes he left a message, but most times he didn’t. She made the mistake of answering about a month after she’d moved to Chicago. His remorse at how he’d handled the situation and how badly he felt for hurting her had chipped away at her anger. Repeated professions of how much he loved and missed her began melting the wall she’d built around her aching heart. He then made a colossal mistake in the form of unrealistic expectations and a complete lack of personal investment in their relationship. He hinted her leaving had been an overreaction and then outright asked her to move back to Seattle to resume their relationship. After using a few choice words that amounted to a vehement “never call me again,” she hung up the phone and vowed to herself that was the last time she’d ever speak to him.
Surprised at how sad a technological reminder of his existence still made her, she swiped “end call,” turned off her bedside lamp and retreated beneath her comforter, leaving her tea untouched beside her book.
Poor little rabbit! I hadn't thought of the animals in the area- now I'm wondering about that little cat that lives near the Capitol and was so friendly to people as they left the South side of the buidling each day! I hope he didn't get caught up in those protests turned riots. You did such a good job of describing the situation- seriously? You wrote that in 60 seconds? As for your Chapter 2- LOVE IT! You got a great deal of depth into a few pages and lots of images of where she's living, what she's feeling. looking forward to Chapter 3!
ReplyDeleteSo, we were supposed to write the opening in 60 seconds. I think I had 2 sentences done...maybe 3? We then set the timer for 30 minutes and wrote until it went off. So the whole short story was written in 30 minutes.
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