The Talent - John

I give to you a continuation of The Talent in eleventy-one words...

His name was John. He grew up in a small house with his parents and younger siblings. His life was short. There were no memories of a wife. Or of a love interest. He did not attend school, but rather worked as long as he could remember. Except for Sundays; church was always for Sundays.

The story ended abruptly. Painfully. I focused, somehow, on that moment. He was hunting rabbits with his brother. He spotted some, was waiting them out. But the rabbits ran, spooked by something. Someone. ‘Run!’ he shouted; his brother fled. He struggled, briefly. Then a stab. Followed by searing pain. Then nothing.

No living soul remembers him.

Puppet

I give to you a story in eleventy-one words...

The puppet stared at her.

‘You need me more than I need you,’ she spat.

She swore the puppet smirked.

‘A sweet lovable koala? I know differently.’

The puppet fell back, seemingly exasperated.

She sat him up. ‘See, you have a terrible attitude.’

The smirk remained.

‘Maybe I’ll toss you into the trash. Or, better yet, into an incinerator. How about that?’

The koala fell forward, she thought, to hide its laughter.

She righted him again. ‘I know. I will destroy your reputation instead.’

A voice called, ‘Darlene, let’s go. We’re waiting for you.’

‘Coming,’ she answered. She extracted her hand from the puppet, grabbed her jacket, and joined the others.

Open Book

I give to you a text conversation I had with a friend in eleventy-one words...

Have fun last night?

Yes, but it was a bit much. People. Sweat.

I escaped the muchness.

There you go.

There I went, technically.

Very you.

A predictably open book as it were.

I think you have a few chapters locked away.

Does anyone ever share everything? If so, is it not but an approximation based on personal bias? No person can ever be captured except in collections of fleeting moments.

Poetic and true.

Not sure it’s poetic, but it certainly smacks of the elusive concept called truth.

You love words.

Are you nicely calling me verbose?

Affirmative.

I am also accomplished at curt one-word replies.

I’m well aware.

Truth abounds.

Dragon

I give to you a true story from my vacation in the Northwest in eleventy-one words...

He pushed away from the table with a huff and eyed the restaurant for his opponent. He stalked towards the exit, turned at the far corner, and traipsed back into the bar area. Upon his return, he spotted a manager and purposefully approached him.

‘I lost,’ he pointed to the screen. ‘I am Dragon.’

The manager smirked, ‘Okay?’

‘I want to know who beat me.’

‘Ash did, according to the screen.’

‘Who is Ash?’

‘I don’t know.’

He sputtered a bit more, to no avail, and returned to his seat.

Meanwhile, Tara, Ashley, and I – dragon slayers all – barely contained our laughter. It seems Dragons take their trivia seriously in Lynnwood.

Pig

I give to you a conversation about a pet pig in eleventy-one words...

The two older women ate their breakfast in a café overlooking Alki beach.

‘My sister bought a pig.’

‘A pig?’

‘Yes, a pot-bellied pig.’

‘Why?’

‘I think she’s going to eat it.’

‘She bought a pig to eat it?’

‘That’s what she did with the rabbits.’

‘She had rabbits?’

‘Yeah, she raised them and ate them.’

‘How did she kill them?’

‘She brought them to a butcher, I think.’

‘That’s strange.’

‘I know… She has a dog and a parrot too.’

‘So she has a pig, a dog, and a parrot?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Is she going to eat the dog and parrot too?’

‘I don’t think so. Gee, I sure hope not.’

Justice

I give to you a story in eleventy-one words...

She saw the aggressive driver tailgating. When the tailgatee moved, he accelerated towards the exit. But she switched lanes, forcing him to slow considerably. She smiled, convinced that she had exacted justice.

As they exited, he swerved into the left lane, while she remained in the right. They were adjacent when they came to the merge. She signaled and inched in front of him, expecting that he would yield. He didn’t. The cars collided causing his mirror to break. She hit the gas. ‘Stop!’ he yelled. She drove through the next light, leaving him far behind. She took a series of turns. He hadn’t followed. She sighed, relieved at her escape.

Fun

I give to you a true story in eleventy-one words...

I sat, writing in Washington Square Park.  A young black woman with bright red hair and unfocused eyes sat beside me.

‘Hi,’ she said.

‘Hi’

‘Do you want sangria?’

‘No thanks’

She took a swig. ‘A cigarette?’

‘No’

‘Is that your diary?’

‘Of sorts’

‘Do you have a girlfriend?’

‘No’

‘Why not? You’re attractive, smart, ambitious.’

‘I’m not looking.’

She paused, glanced around conspiratorially, and half-whispered ‘Do you want to have some fun?’

‘No thank you.’

I packed my bag and stood.

‘Aww, where are you going?’

I thought it best not to say, far away from you. ‘I have to be somewhere. Have a good day.’

‘Okay, well bye then.’