SHORT STORY #2

THE SHORT STORY WITHIN

 

It was a crisp clear autumn evening. The breeze lightly pushing through the open

            window, causing the freshly starched curtains to flutter lightly. It was clear that

            the seasons were changing. The hot humid summer had been nudged aside by the

            fall air. This is my favorite time of the year to write. After all, I must give myself

            plenty of reading material for those long winter nights.

 

The cool smell of the autumn lingered in the room. In the near distance I could hear the

            sounds of the leaves rustling in the trees. They seem to be working hard to free

            themselves, eventually making their way to the ground. It seems like a perfect

            evening to ponder thoughts and transcribe them to paper. I glanced around

            looking for inspiration. Thinking, surely something would jar these brain cells.

 

As I stood in the breeze, which gently engulfed the room, my attention turned to the

            drifting aroma of freshly brewed coffee. I turned to the computer and flipped the

            switch. Then as if in a trance, followed the aroma to the kitchen, there on the

            cabinet was the source of the aroma, the trophy – fresh coffee. It seemed to be

            gently calling my name. I retrieved my favorite cup from the cupboard and  

            carefully poured the coffee – my diamond in the rough. The fragrant stimulant

            started to open the clogged cells of my brain. Savoring my first sip, I puttered

            back into the other room. Standing over my desk, I looked at the stacks of

            scribbled notes. Somewhere in this pile there was surely an inspiration.

 

Taking another sip of the coffee, I nestled into my chair. My attention was diverted out

            the open window. As if in a daze, I found myself gazing out into the open world

            beyond. Breathing in the crisp evening air – I became engulfed in thought. Where

            do I start? When do I stop? What do I really say? Time seemed to stand still, or

            moving at the pace of a snail. I seemed to be digging deeper into my thoughts to

            grab onto some sort of short story.

 

Suddenly – CRACK – the sound of a branch falling from the tree outside, broke my spell.

            I shifted in the chair, and looked in amazement at the computer screen. It seems

            that while I was stranded somewhere in the realm of deep thoughts, the little short

            story fairy took over. The screen was full of very descriptive words. Each

            sentence was complete and correctly punctuated. Wow! This is great! Reading it

            over, I suddenly declared – this short story is complete.

 

                                                Written by Marilyn Duncan – Buck

                                                Copyright 2009