Lions

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

No matter where he was, they always got in. Always...

The lions hadn't seen him yet, but once they had they would attack.

Sitting quietly never worked, and he wasn't quick enough to escape.

He could yell for his foster family, but it was the middle of the night.

Just then a knock came. The lions froze. 'Everything okay?' his foster mother asked. They stalked toward the door. In a moment of courage - for fear they would attack - he yelled, 'No!'

At that she opened the door and chased after the felines until he told her they had fled. Then she hugged him and sat with him until he fell asleep.

Whisper

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

Leaning on a red mahogany walking stick, he stood crookedly atop the grassy pinnacle, surveying the almost unidentifiable remains of the fallen holy edifice. Faded memories emerged momentarily like rays of sunshine amidst a hurricane’s eye. The church seemed a relic, the result of a targeted bombardment in some distant war. It could be said that the building had been blown to bits by indifference, his included. But he didn’t feel regret, exactly, but rather a longing for a time when he didn’t have to try so hard to find meaning.

He walked to what had been the altar and, with effort, sat upon the ground listening for a soft whisper.

Continuum

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

Wrapped in an expansive, though inadequate, crocheted navy scarf and a pea coat with its anchor-inscribed buttons, I both watch his fingers play across the ivories and listen to his mantic melodies, muted by branches of the stark, leafless northern red oak.

I remember when we sat here, our knees touching as the summer sun set. Only now do I understand that neither we together nor each of us individually were broken. Funny how points in time taken discretely seem disjointed, as if the chronology is all wrong, but how those same points in time strung along a continuum somehow make sense.

I rise, tip the pianist, and walk home alone.

Second Amendment

I give to you a reflection in two times eleventy-one words...

A well-regulated militia being necessary to the security of a free state, the right of the people to keep and bear arms shall not be infringed.

Why did The Founding Fathers include the second amendment? To protect self-government. To give the United States of America, one of the boldest experiments in the history of the world, a chance to exist in a world that decried its very existence. And endure, the United States did, partially because of those arms. They served their purpose from the country’s revolution to its civil war.

The world has changed. First, technology has rendered the second amendment obsolete; the United States government has little trouble quelling its citizens’ armed efforts with superior weaponry. Second, and more importantly, self-government has become a habit in the United States, even if it remains undervalued by many of its citizens.

For these reasons, arms in the hands of the people no longer secure liberty; they merely escalate tensions, provoking violence and anger and fear.

We must now embrace alternate methods, those employed by Mandela and Gandhi and Menchú and King. We must meet violence with peace, anger with joy, fear with love. We must move to eradicate arms in the hands of the people, lest they aid in the destruction of the very ideal the second amendment was meant to protect.

Hat

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

‘I open neither my heart nor mind without donning my tri-cornered hat.

‘I initially wore it to team meetings; it proved unexpectedly empowering, enabling me – the consummate introvert – to lead them expertly. I subsequently wore it to every meeting, each an unmitigated success.

‘It seems, however, such millinery is inappropriate for client onsites. The clients didn’t seem to mind, but my boss told me to remove it. He fired me on the spot when I refrained.

The parents eyed him as the boat docked.

‘Quite the journey! Speaking of which, I hope you’ve enjoyed yours on the Pirates of Caribbean ride!’ He tipped his tri-cornered hat to the rapidly fleeing families. 

Suspicious

I give to you the latest snippet in the Reincarnated (click the link for previous entries) story in eleventy-one words...

Charlotte demurred. ‘I punched him back.’

‘Ok?’

‘I caught him off guard; he actually started crying.’

Olivia pursed her lips.

‘What?’

‘You felt sorry for him.’

‘Well, yeah.’

‘You comforted him.’

Charlotte shrugged.

‘Alright, so how can he help?’ she asked, exasperated.

‘He knows how to find people’s families.’

‘Has he helped you?’

‘No, but I don’t remember much.’

‘Has he found his family?’

‘No.’

‘Oh my God, Charlotte.’

‘What?’

‘He’s playing you.’

‘He can help you.’

Olivia paused. ‘Why me?’

‘He knows about your two sons.’

‘How?’

‘I don’t know. You should talk to him.’

‘Yeah…’ she responded suspiciously.

They shared an uneasy silence.

‘Ok,’ Olivia responded, ‘when and where?’

Bullets

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

The men walked into the building, extracted their semi-automatic weapons, fired.

People scrambled, fell, bled.

The men advanced.

A young girl emerged from her hiding spot; she nonchalantly approached the leader. ‘Why do you do this?’

The men’s leader chuckled. ‘For glory, little girl. Now go hide before I shoot you too.’

‘I am not afraid.’

He pointed his gun at her forehead. ‘You are a stupid little girl.’

‘You are an angry little boy.’

She touched the gun as he attempted to pull the trigger. The gun shattered as if made of glass.

She smiled.

The leader stepped behind his men. ‘You cannot stop their bullets.’

‘Maybe not.’

They fired.