Geek Perspective » Fiction

“A Poet on a Couch”

James Laslavic — Tue, 08 Dec 2009 14:38:01 +0000

I just finished the final* draft of my short story “A Poet on a Couch” for Ms. Elizabeth Hille’s class, English Composition: Narrative Storytelling. There’s a decent chance that I’ll be reading it tomorrow for the class, and if that goes really well, then maybe I’ll submit it to some competitions. And if you read it and enjoy it, then leave a comment to let me know!

Thank you to Ms. Hille and all of my classmates for all the useful feedback from the very first draft onward.

Also, special thanks to Stephanie Breijo, Elijah Colpitts, Krystal Kranz, Toby Mayer, Mason Prenevost, Chris Ramm, and Sabrina Wenske for top-notch editing and proofreading.

*Update: Heh, oops. I misunderstood. We read our stories, but we actually we have another week, so I’ll probably make some more changes after all. I’ll upload the actual final here on the 15th.

Update 2: As promised, I’ve uploaded the new version. Made more changes than I thought I would. The link points to it now.

Again, if you read it, please leave a comment (or at least vote in the unrelated poll).

“10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1.”

James Laslavic — Wed, 14 Oct 2009 03:23:56 +0000

This extra short in-class writing assignment was an exercise in being frugal with words. The first sentence had to have exactly 10 words, then the next one had to have 9, then 8, and so on.

“I can’t believe it’s not butter!” sang the boy, grinning. He was just like a commercial: thrilled, bouncing, mindless.

Is this what today’s youth has come to? Superheroes and spaceships replaced by stupid slogans? Where did all the dreams go? Boy, we let them down. We were terrible shepherds.

It’s too late. We’re zombies. Dead.

“Don’t say what’s happening.”

James Laslavic — Tue, 13 Oct 2009 02:49:37 +0000

For each of these three quick in-class writing assignments, the instructor gave us a few things that the stories had to include, but the fun part was that we weren’t allowed to directly state some of them. I’ll include the bullets after each story so you can see if you figured out what was going on.

I think the third one is the most amusing, but also the most obscure.

Prompt 1

Focus on the waves. Focus on the waves. Focus on the waves.

The hive of blue vests swarmed around him as he stood there facing the beach, breathing and blinking and trying to keep his doughnuts.

“The chalk won’t draw itself, Marty!” said his chief in the same disinterested, grumpy tone he’d interviewed him in. Marty felt a gruff pat on the back push him forward, and then the chief waddled past.

Focus on the waves. Focus on the waves. Focus on the waves.

His hand seemed to move on its own, slowly trembling its way down to the pouch on his belt, taking the chalk out like it was something dirty and unfamiliar.

Focus on the waves.

The sweat of his palms was dampening the powdery stick.

Focus on the waves.

He closed his eyes and gulped, kneeling down and holding his breath.

Focus on the waves.

The chalk stick connected to the asphalt, and Marty led it around tightly, like a noose. He could feel the blood drain from his face, the moisture disappear from his mouth, the tightness from his grip. But not the seconds from his watch. The jagged white line just kept going and going and going, and Marty felt like he would be stuck forever in this nauseous limbo.

Just focus on the waves, Marty.

Just focus on the waves.

Prompt 1′s Bullets

Young man’s point of view.

Murder happened.

Water in the scene.

Do no directly reference murder or use graphic details.

Prompt 2

One delicate, foxy step after the other carried her forward through the golden wheat. her cheeks were burning because she’d been smirking and giggling to herself for almost an hour now, she was so impressed with her cleverness.

Her hair was a mess, her blouse was missing buttons, and the basket of tomatoes swinging at her side was dropping a trail of juice. But her husband wouldn’t notice, because he never did.

Another spell of self-satisfied chuckles washed over her, and she flicked her hair out to hold her face up to the sun. Everything was magical. i twas all a game, and she had already won, so all there was to do now was enjoy the breeze and rub the places on her face and breasts where she had been caressed.

Wait. Her breast. She froze in mid-stride with bulging eyes, holding herself. She looked down to be sure, and then dropped the basket. By the time it hit the ground, she was already almost back at the rod.

The lack of a bra is something her husband would notice.

Prompt 2′s Bullets

Middle-aged woman

Having an affair

Going to see her lover (do not introduce) or just came back

Include a road and a field

Do not mention the affair or that she’s cheating

Prompt 3

“You must be very hungry now, honey,” said my mother with an acidic barb in her tone. I just sat there for a second at the prison-like table, staring straight forward. I couldn’t say anything, so I just nodded.

“How about a banana sandwich? Hmm? Would you like some banana, Sarah? Hmm?”

I glared daggers at her. She squinted back at me.

“Yes, I’m going to make you a banana sandwich.” The knife rose and fell in heavy chops, like a guillotine. “Just let me know if you want more banana in there.”

“Mom!”

“The sandwich, I mean.”

“MOM.” My nostrils flared, and my shoulders were tense with a primal readiness to pounce over the table and strangle her.

She just kept squinting at me, chopping the banana into tinier and tinier pieces. “You should wash your hands, don’t you think? It’s always good to wash your hands, sweetie.”

With a growl, I reluctantly slinked over to the sink. even as I turned the nob, I didn’t look away from her.

“Don’t forget to pray either.”

“I hate you.”

“Eat your sandwich.”

Prompt 3′s Bullets

Young girl

Caught by mother masturbating

Now in kitchen

Must not mention the masturbating

“Where were you last night?”

James Laslavic — Mon, 12 Oct 2009 02:26:52 +0000

For this in-class writing assignment, we had to write a story that hinged on a character asking, “Where were you last night?” We had about ten minutes to write it. After that, we had to write the same story from the other character’s point of view.

I definitely like the second one more than the first one, even though I forgot a few things since we had to write really quickly.

Story 1

The stained glass vase shattered instantly, exploding out with sparkling blues and purples and greens that danced and jingled all along the floor up to the door. Silence followed, unpierced even by the slow beeps of the heart monitor.

“Where were you last night?” she asked quietly after a frozen eternity.

“I was here with you, dear.” Tom carefully stepped around the bits of glass to get over to her bed. Gently, he lifted her head and fluffed the pillow beneath it, then took her hand and removed the wedding band to wipe the sweat from her finger.

“Oh. I see.” Her voice was softer, a bit more sad and vulnerable in spite of her best efforts. “What did we do?”

Tom smiled for her and set her hand back down after sliding her ring back on. “Well, we watched a movie, and then you beat me at checkers, and–”

A nurse knocked on the door and cracked it open. “Mrs, Tilldrup, it’ll be be five minutes before the surgeons are ready.”

“Oh. Yes, thank you,” she said with just enough of a tremor in her voice to betray her confusion.

The door clicked shut, so Tom continued after beginning to sweep the glass into a corner with his foot. “I bought you a vase for the flowers, but it seems like they threw them out already.”

Another pause. Tom turned his back so that she could not see him stuff his palms into his eyes just for a moment. “Julia, I’ll bring you new flowers. Sunflowers. You like sunflowers more than roses anyway.” He dried his hands on his pants and turned back to her with a smile.

“I thought you were buying flowers for me last night,” she said with a concerned furrow in her brow. Worry lines spread from the corners of what remained of her one lip over the terrible seared ruins of her lower face. “Where were you last night, Tom?”

“I’m right here, Julia. I was with you last night too.” He smiled for her.

Flipped Perspective

The washed light of fluorescent bulbs pointed into her face, just like it always had. She tried to move her head and hold her hands up to block it, but the only arm moving in the room belonged to the clock on the wall.

“How long have I been here? I want to move,” she thought to herself just as the door opened. In walked Tom, and a big smile spread across the cracked remnants of her face. He smiled back at her, but then his foot caught on the corner of the door and the stained glass vase he’d been holding kept going without him. It smashed on the floor in a cacophony of blues, purples, and greens until all the little bits had danced and jingled as far as they could go. A silence followed that even swallowed the rhythmic blips of the heart monitor.

Suddenly, Julia was filled with terrible worries, and she blurted out as slowly as she could make herself, “Where were you last night?”

“I was here with you, dear.” Tom carefully stepped over the shards of glass, and she felt his clammy hands gently lift her head to fluff her pillow. He then took her hand, removed the wedding ring, and cleaned a circle of sweat that had formed under it before sliding it back on.

“Oh, I see.” Even she could hear her voice grow softer, sadder, and more vulnerable. She tried to just move on. “What did we do?”

Tom smiled for her. His smile was always so reassuring.

“Well, we watched a movie, and then you beat me at checkers, and–”

The door clicked open again, and a nurse’s head poked through. “Mrs. Tilldrup, it’ll be five minutes before the surgeons are ready.”

What surgeons? What for? How bad was it? But she didn’t want to seem confused, so she just choked out, “Oh, yes, thank you” as politely as she could.

The door clicked shut. Tom looked down and began to sweep the glass into a corner with his foot. “I brought you a vase for the flowers, but it seems like they already threw them out.”

Another pause. Tom turned his back to her and inconspiculously lifted his hands to his eyes and then wiped them on his pants. He turned back to her with that smile, that reassuring smile.

But then, she was suddenly filled with worry. “Where were you last night? Tom?”

“I’m right here, Julia. I was with you last night, too.”

She tried to put her hands up to block the light, but couldn’t. Tom just smiled for her. She loved his smile.

“Your tie is coming loose.”

James Laslavic — Sun, 11 Oct 2009 18:34:53 +0000

This was a very, very quick and dirty in-class writing assignment where we were just supposed to make a character with a few qualities and stick them in a situation. Before that though, we made a list of five qualities. For our writing, we had to give the character the opposites of those qualities without being too conspicuous.

Just remember that these in-class prompts are done in like 5-20 minutes (this one was about 5), and I’m transcribing them verbatim from my notebook. Mileage varies.

Qualities

Inquisitive – Uninterested
Rational – Illogical
Merciful – Unsympathetic
Creative – Unimaginative
Articulate – Undescriptive

Short Story

“Your tie is coming loose,” said Thomas without even looking up. The barrista ignored him, so Thomas said it again. “Your tie is coming loose.”

The pimply barrista slapped a plastic top over the the whipped cream island, raising a brow slightly.

“I’m not wearing a tie, sir.”

“I know,” said Thomas blandly. “I meant your apron-smock-thing, in the back.”