Freedom

Freedom, celebrated for our battles. For our ability to choose--to a point. But I found freedom in the saving of a life--worth my own. Small, green and black.

Short, short story #22, as apart of the BlogShorts Challenge. 

To the North

In remembrance of a poem once loved, I sniffed and followed my nose to the north. And found that things were no different than here and only I had changed.

Short, short story #21, as apart of the BlogShorts Challenge. 

The Boys

I cried when I met you both. It's strange to think, because I've never cried when meeting anyone. But, holding you guys for the first time changed everything for me.

Short, short story #20, as apart of the BlogShorts Challenge. 

Falling Astronaut

Slowly, he rotated, cursing his god, crew and suit. Probably cursing the Earth, as well. In all of this--this inevitable death--why couldn't he be still, un-rotating, before burning.

Short, short story #19, as apart of the BlogShorts Challenge. 

Bad Change

Temperature rises. Five degrees Celsius. The Timpanogos glacier. Zeppelins over Russia. Strange currents. So much more. And still you don't worry, because it doesn't matter to you. Not your problem.

Short, short story #18, as apart of the BlogShorts Challenge. 

Feeding a Family

"Can you throw that sandwich away?" she asked, as I came in. I turned and walked outside, looking for the crusts. Ants had found it first, and so I left it.

Short, short story #17, as apart of the BlogShorts Challenge. 

The Pressure of Waves

She went out, into the water, standing with her knees touching the waves. The sun was setting behind a stream of orange clouds she wondered where her mind had gone.

Short, short story #16, as apart of the BlogShorts Challenge. 

We Met Back East

When I was six, you were four. And I teased you in North Carolina. I don't remember this, but I'm sure I did it because, even then, I liked you.

Short, short story #15, as apart of the BlogShorts Challenge. 

Hoping to Move Back East

Dark green trees are calling. I can hear my childhood. We've longed to go back, and I know, after some school is finished, we'll find ourselves surrounded by that green.

Short, short story #14, as apart of the BlogShorts Challenge. 

Biking Home

The sounds of the city deadened, listening to talk radio, learning about science, riding alongside traffic, I pedal home carefully, and deliberately, continually looking up. It is a beautiful day.

Short, short story #13, as apart of the BlogShorts Challenge. 

Exchanging of Change

I often stop at a gas station on my way to work for a drink. The same man takes  my dollar-five and keeps the change. He probably has a dollar.

Short, short story #12, as apart of the BlogShorts Challenge. 

Pure Night

Darkness. It is thick. It is Unmoving. It is silence. The sun is dead and the moon is hid from sight. But the stars; the stars, as always, shine through.

Short, short story #11, as apart of the BlogShorts Challenge. 

Pouring

The drums. Oh, the drums thundered against the growing "tap, tap, tap" of the rain. The clouds reveled themselves in sudden shows of static electricity. I stood, wet, head lowered.

Short, short story #10, as apart of the BlogShorts Challenge. 

It's Easy to Drive

I wake up late today. The air is chilly as I  step outside. The air is cool and beautiful until I forget of its miracle and quickly drive to work.

Short, short story #9, as apart of the BlogShorts Challenge. 

There Will Always Be A Holy-war

He lanced the last ship as he had deemed it unworthy. Unworthy of God's love. The stars shone all around the two spaceships, their brilliance being lost in the holy-war.

Short, short story #8, as apart of the BlogShorts Challenge. 

The Destroyed Green-Way

The scattered trees from the tornado leave wild ideas in my and my brothers eyes. We venture through the forest, deep and green and damp, looking for nothing but time.

Short, short story #7, as apart of the BlogShorts Challenge. 

I Almost Killed a Bird

I almost killed it. It looked sick. I approached it and the bird moved. It looked at me and opened its mouth for food. It was simply learning to fly.

Short, short story #6, as apart of the BlogShorts Challenge. 

Books

I grew up to super heroes and evil villains. To space ships and time travel. I would travel the universe, I would swing from a web. And with great power . . .

Short, short story #5, as apart of the BlogShorts Challenge. 

Weekend Stories

Sorry, I wrote these over the weekend, but was unable to put them up on the blog.




Movements
We sat, silent to ourselves. Watching. The movements rehearsed and practiced over hours and hours of blistering rehearsals. For one night. For the performance to move even the strongest men.

Short, short story #3, as apart of the BlogShorts Challenge. 

Growing Up
I grew up dreaming of laser guns. I was a lonely space traveler. I never brought companions or friends or crew members. Just me, traveling to distant stars. Fighting aliens.

Short, short story #4, as apart of the BlogShorts Challenge. 

Winter Night in Passing

My breath was white from the cold. Winters white frost which hung like a statue in the air. I could only stare and imagine. The stars, as always, were brilliant.

Short, short story #2, as apart of the BlogShorts Challenge. 

Coming Home From Work

I love doing projects and challenges when it comes to writing. I've written 30 short stories in 30 days. And, a year later, 14 in 14 days (those were much longer). I've also won the NaNoWrMo (National Novel Writers Month) where I had to write a 50,000 word novel in one month. (I actually wrote 75,000).

I have found a new challenge, it is a bit easier, but at the same time... maybe not. It is the BlogShorts Challenge. In this, I will be writing 30 flash stories, 30 words or less each, in 30 days. I think it'll be fun. So here we go, with the starter:

Coming Home From Work
As I walk to my front door after work, I look through the window. In hopes that I will see my son waiting for me. Smiling, pointing towards the door.

Short, short story #1, as apart of the BlogShorts Challenge. 

Want a good read?

Been looking for something to read? Want something that is going to force you to stay up late into the night desperately craving for more? A book that will force you to skip meals and become utterly anti-social while reading? Well, here you go:

A Short Stay in Hell.

But don't take my word for it. Here are some reviews:

"I have never been so moved by a view of hell. Peck’s hell is no brimstone, fire, and burnings – a view that has never been meaningful to me nor one that has instilled any fear in me. In contrast, Peck’s hell does both of those things. This view of hell appears, at first blush, as an almost pleasant place where the inhabitant has a well-defined and seemingly manageable task after which she is allowed to move on – hence the title, “A Short Stay in Hell.” And yet, this hell produced in me a frozen hopelessness that I could not shake even weeks after finishing the book. I fear this hell. I fear it with my whole being. Maybe it was because of the initial sense of the task’s manageability that I ultimately felt such a deep sense of despair. This is story telling at its finest. This is fiction that penetrates to the core.”

"I have never read anything that has given me such a profound sense of what ‘eternity’ might actually entail, or that has soured me so completely on the merits of ‘eternal life.’ I do not mean to paint the novel as negative or depressing so much as thoughtful and insightful. The concept of hell that is developed in this story becomes a metaphor for exploring what matters most in life (whether it be mortal or immortal): love, companionship, meaning, and purpose. The result for me has been a deeper appreciation for the opportunities my present life affords, let the eternities bring what they may…” 

“There are only a few books I’ve read that have truly changed the way I look at life, and this is one of them." 

"Peck has done such a phenomenal interpretation of the human condition and spirit in this poetic rendition of Hell.” 

“The central conceit is brilliant and there’s a real sense of pathos for our author’s desperate attempts to find and maintain human connections in an ageless place. I read it in one setting, desperate to find out if hell has an End. Peck has a real flair for capturing the yearnings of the human spirit, hell-bound or no.” 

This is easily one of the very best books I have ever read. Ever!! (Which is why I've read it eight times)!

Wet

Dripping , drops of water litter my face

I dare not look up

The building is shelter and warmth

on moist days

But I am outside, squinting from the wind

and water

Looking for my car that has  been

Parked

much to far away.

*written in May, 2011 on a rainy day.