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
