Writing well means never having to say, “I guess you had to be there.”
– Jef Mallett
Month: October 2012
haiku 237
94th birthday –
Grandpa asks again
who I am
#quikfic 24
Tina had to stay after school again today. She simply won’t quit repeating what you said when the hammer hit your thumb.
Fiction: Darkening Doors
The lady of the house opened the white front door to her modest bungalow-style home. On the doorstep stood a middle-aged man in a plain suit. She recognized him from his signs.
“Good afternoon,” he said. “I am Alfred Samiel. I am visiting every home in the district which I hope to serve in the legislature. I would like to take just a few moments to tell you where I stand on the important issues we face.”
She scowled at him.
“I know your stands on the issues. I don’t know how you can say any of that crap. You’re disgusting. You’ll never get my vote. I hope to God you don’t get elected.”
She slammed the door on him, and he heard something fall from a shelf inside.
Samiel stared hatefully at the closed door, silently fuming. None of the well-intentioned warnings had prepared him for the fact of rejection. He poured out his anger and stepped down from the porch, moving on to the next house.
He reminded himself that it didn’t matter if he was not loved. All that mattered was making a good effort. When election day came, he was certain he would be elected – despite the woman’s prayer to the contrary: God wasn’t running a candidate for office.
Behind him, the white door now bore Samiel’s silhouette. The homeowner would later discover that paint would not adhere to it.
Quotable 124
Before you learn to write well, to trust yourself as a writer, you will have to learn to be patient in the presence of your own thoughts.
– Verlyn Klinkenborg
haiku 236
neighborhood leaves
gather on
corner lot
#quikfic 23
“Burn the witch!” the townspeople cried, save one. It would be his job to cut the huge pile of wood, and his back already hurt.
Quotable 123
A writer who waits for ideal conditions under which to work will die without putting a word on paper.
– E. B. White
haiku 235
nearly forgotten sound –
rainwater trickles
into storm drain
#quikfic 22
Tom misunderstood the hobby as tombstone robbing. He had built up a fine collection, but his display was worrying the neighbors.