Introduction
Every Monday my writing partner Emily and I create a weekly challenge that we write to for the next seven days. Back in March, we had a challenge that was “three-paragraph stories.” This kind of micro-fiction is a tough kind of writing. There’s more room to spread out than the famous, dubious, legend of the Hemmingway challenge of a six-word story, but similarly, the tight ration of space means moving action quickly with very sparse details looking to land a punch.
Writers also love to talk about writing and try to polish up a pearl of wisdom on how to do it well. I’ve looked, and I can’t place the quote that got lodged in my mind some years ago. So please forgive my paraphrasing here; “Any good writing should deal with either sex, death, or both.” While I don’t agree, it’s compelling enough of an idea that I occasionally lean into it. I’ve certainly followed that wreckless advice with these three tiny stories. I hope they at least season your day with a dash of something interesting.
Thank you for reading,
-CKM
1. Wonder Bread
I wish I could say it was one thing, but it wasn’t. It was eight thousand things, one after the next that tore Papa down. It was when they paved the old dirt road. It was when the potholes littered them roads like a mortar shelling. It was the new grocery and the ladies’ hat shop next to it. It was more than anything that damned sliced bread.
I thought it was a miracle. I thought it was the lightest thing, delicate as a lace doily. It tasted to me like what they must eat in New York or Paris. It didn’t tear me down. The only thing torn in the situation were holes in bread that hardly took a touch to make. Papa’s bread, however, could tear a hole in the roof of your mouth.
But it wasn’t the bread that tore a hole in his mouth. It was Black Tuesday. It was a Colt 1917 bought when Papa was momentarily flush with stocks cash. He bought it when times was good off a man who’d used it in the Great War. He used it when times was bad. We hadda have a closed-coffin service. That service cost mosta what money we had left. We sure can’t buy no Wonder Bread now.
2. Florescent Wedding Planning
It’s going to be somethin’. I can almost see it now. We’ll be married by Felix’s brother. My dad’ll sing a song instead of giving a spoken toast. And everyone I know’ll be there.
Right now, everything’s a bit more difficult. It’s a lot of paper-cup coffee, and fluorescent lights. I take walks around the block. Never too long. Gotta stay close. Things can turn in a fast minute.
I don’t know why Felix drove that night. It was so foggy. He’d never drinks that much. It’d been such a nice day. I was waiting at home for him. I was going to surprise him with fancy underwear. I don’t know how this happened.
3. Something Wild
He wanted to see a bear. Europeans had killed almost all of the dangerous animals that once lived there. Ennui was a bigger threat to him than anything with tooth or nail. Ennui had brought him to the edge of death more than several times. He wanted to see something dangerous, glorious, and wild.
He booked a flight to the States. He ordered guidebooks off the internet. He bought gear and trained.
The grizzly stood on his hind legs and offered a growl. Even with the fearful beast at fifty meters, ennui was at least a hundred meters further off.
