squares: short stories

in time

2010-03-15T15:37:00.000-07:00

"The dream! The dream!" he cried, "The dream!"
His neighbor in the next apartment banged her fist against their adjoining wall. He hesitated as he paused for breath, thought but... the dream, "The dream! The dream!"

Pounce

2010-03-03T09:57:00.001-08:00

The pounce is thought out. It is action personified. Muscles rippling, legs finding sure ground. Two lazy eyes glance to the side. Suddenly the string is captured, between two soft paws. The attack has begun.

Bitterness

2010-03-03T09:55:00.001-08:00

"Bitterness is such an easy pill to swallow," she says.

He asks what she means.

"Watch it go down so easily; It's sweet at first." She closes her eyes.

He says, "I don't see it. What's happening?"

Her eyes snap open and she watches his mouth as she says, "Exactly."

A Turn

2010-02-18T10:41:00.000-08:00

She waits by the door. Bright sun heating the floor, her feet in the shadow of her chair. Another waiting patient turns to her with frustration
-How long have you been waiting?
She sighs, glances at the door. No answer is good enough or true. She lies
-Not long

I offer something, you offer something back.

2010-01-29T16:07:00.000-08:00

"Dialogue. It's a
conversation --
a give-and-take --
a back-and-forth.
I offer something,
you offer something
back. It's not a
one-way street,
doll. It's not just
about the words
coming out of my
mouth. Are you
listening? Are you
willing to participate?
Are you going to give
up pieces of yourself,
one word at a time?"

Violin-violets

2010-01-25T17:07:00.000-08:00

Precision-fingers,
watchful chin,
could it be
violets --
real or conjured?
-- that emerge
from her violin?
What next,
magician-
musician?

Dream

2010-01-23T19:00:00.000-08:00

The dreams I have remain the same. Like this: a constant echo across a vast, empty space. Unchanging and untouchable is how I forget.

Sad eyes

2010-01-16T19:43:00.000-08:00

Sad eyes, his mother said when he was born. Why so sad, dearheart? He couldn't answer her, could only gaze sadly, could only lay in her arms as she continued to bleed a slow deadly leak until she was gone, inescapable sad eyes of blue.

Ah

2010-01-16T19:40:00.000-08:00

"See," he says, pulling her in front of the mirror. "You are beautiful."

She looks at her reflection, sees the beauty; looks at his reflection, sees the earnestness.

"Ah," she says. "But what does it mean?"

Lead

2010-01-16T16:43:00.001-08:00

She walked across the street on the crosswalk. A car slowed, its driver watched her carefully step past him. She was slow, deliberate. She looked down, to the left. Each leg felt lead-heavy, she almost couldn't walk. Seeing him watch her, she whispered I hate you, I hate you.

Liar

2010-01-15T14:01:00.000-08:00

- I don't long for it much

- What's that?

- Chocolate

- Liar

- Maybe

Not a Harley

2010-01-15T10:19:00.000-08:00

Mother and I walked through the silent neighborhood. We looked at the sidewalk cracking in front of us. I tripped on a mossy line, disturbing the bugs. It was early spring. Mother pointed to the double-headed daffodil.

An old man wearing a black aviator cap and thick round goggles drove past us on his scooter. He slowed as we caught his eye. With bulging eyes he stared into ours and said, "It's not a Harley."

Parable

2010-01-15T10:14:00.000-08:00

I held the needle to my eye. So close my lashes almost threaded through.
"Like this?"
She nodded.
"I can't get through. It's too small."
She sighed, "Oh, I forgot. You have to be a very tiny camel."

Try again in an hour

2010-01-14T20:44:00.000-08:00

So you think you have cancer. But when you call the clinic to make an appointment, their computers are down, and she tells you this abruptly and instructs you to try again in an hour. An hour? you repeat back stupidly. Well after all what's another hour with undiagnosed cancer. You reach for your tea and take a sip but it's no longer as hot as it should be.

Why? Wherefore? The beginnings.

2010-01-12T13:12:00.000-08:00

Hi! Caitlin here. The idea for this site came about while I was sitting in a bakery waiting for a friend. Having nothing to doodle on but some old receipts, I started writing, then it hit me: short stories on receipts! If the stories are awful, who cares? They're short, they're three words long, they're 150 words written in miniature, it's all up to me (and Jenny) how long we want it to be. There aren't really any rules.

So let's get going.