Avalanche

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

(See Reincarnated for other posts in the series.)

Who first noticed?

No one knows.

The phenomenon wasn’t immediately apparent. The population had reached its maximum number – approximately 7.3 million – a few years prior. Only demographists had been mildly concerned. Most knew the population would taper, but not that soon.

There came reports of exceptional toddlers who claimed to remember past lives. At first, a few tabloids deployed their reporters to interview the parents and their terrific two year olds. Ironically, those writers didn’t spin their stories; they and their editors believed them to be so absurd that they published them almost verbatim.

Those stories were the snowballs; what followed was the avalanche.

The world would never be the same.

Husband and Wife

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

(See Reincarnated for other posts in the series.) 

He stared into the mirror at his face so young and plump. His mother’s voice – still foreign – spoke what would be the ceremony’s next line. He mimicked her diction and intonation robotically; she smiled knowingly.

The priest knocked, told them that the time had come. The boy felt awkward, excited, confused. His mother reassured him that this ceremony would help bring closure.

When the boy entered the sanctuary, he stood dumbstruck. Twenty people stared at him intently, lovingly. He approached an old man in the first pew. The boy spoke what had been familiar words in his once native tongue, ‘Hello husband.’ The old man grinned and hoarsely replied, ‘Hello wife.’

Joy

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

More money,

More horsepower,

More square feet,

More education,

More love,

More…

Are we never enough?

Those thorny little epithets flung behind our backs,

Those eye rolling glances cast between those we deem powerful.

They has an effect.

(Only if you let them)

They makes us doubt.

(If you wish)

 [What we half create,

And what perceive.]

Isn’t getting better the point?

To progress!

Which begets progress,

Which begets progress,

Ad infinitum.

Quod Erat Demonstrandum.

{Give to Caesar what is Caesar’s}

Do you want to know a secret?

Do you promise now to tell?

Progress may bring happiness,

But intent remains the font of joy.

{Give to God what is God’s}

Forced Awakenings

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

I approached the cashier; he spoke to a woman about Star Wars.

I’m a fan. The first movie I saw in theaters was Return of the Jedi. I sent away five proofs of purchase to obtain the Emperor action figure. Twice. I’ve watched the movies – even Phantom Menace – myriad times.

When Disney hired Abrams, I felt giddy. Not only is he an incredible director, but he’s good at keeping the story quiet, just like I like it.

I was to see The Force Awakens that night. I put my items down. Then the cashier revealed that…

For those who’ve seen it, you know what I mean.

He flinched when I snarled.

Guns

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

He walked into the den where his wife was writing. ‘They’re dead.’

‘Huh?’

‘My mother. She said. They died.’

‘Who?’

‘My brother.’

‘Oh my God.’

‘His son too…’

‘Your Godson?’

‘Not anymore.’ He stared out the window.

She hugged him.

He sighed, then chuckled, then began laughing uncontrollably; tears streamed down his face.

‘What is wrong with you?’

‘Maybe now they’ll change the gun laws.’

‘What do you mean?’

He turned on the television. ‘… gunman was the father of a child killed in the Newtown massacre.’ A pause. ‘For those of you just joining, at least twenty are dead with many more wounded at the NRA Convention in Louisville, Kentucky.’

Sighs

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

He entered the den, closed the door, sat in the recliner, and sighed. His wife and children knew better than to approach him. At best, he’d ignore them; at worst, he’d scowl and yell.

He wanted to eat with his family. He wanted to listen to his children recount their days. He wanted to play Scrabble with them until bedtime. He wanted to retire to the bedroom with his wife. He wanted to explain to her how he felt stuck and needed to find another job.

But he didn’t. He couldn’t.

Instead, he reached for the remote, turned on the television, and stared at the screen until he drifted into oblivion.

Worthy

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

The priest leaned forward.

She sat with arms folded and stared out the window.

He spoke softly, ‘You are worthy of love and forgiveness.’

She sneered.

He didn’t react, then repeated, ‘You are worthy of love and forgiveness.’

She glanced at him, rolled her eyes.

‘You are worthy of love and forgiveness.’

She turned her head and glared at him.

‘You are…’

‘No, I ain’t. Get the fuck outta here!’

He bowed his head briefly, then spoke, ‘You are worthy…’

‘I killed my kids. I ain’t worthy of shit!’

He looked into her eyes. ‘You are worthy of love and forgiveness.’

She averted her eyes; a tear streamed down her cheek.