Week 4 - Writing Short Shorts

This week we are focusing on the Short Short, a 300 word or less, short story that is more of a snapshot into a scene or moment in time. It is brief, vivid and descriptive. It is actually challenging to have only a small amount of words to work with and create a captivating snapshot of a bigger scene successfully. I had major writers block with this week's story. One thing is consistent with my work. It's all dark or deals with a scary situation. I should definitely analyze that at some point!

Hope you enjoy!

Goat Man - Short Short by Erin Felsen
She was told the story of Goat Man because they wanted her to be afraid, and it worked. It was dark and all she could hear were she sounds of gentle breaths from the other girls sound asleep in her bunk. The only other sound that filled the room was the thumping beats of hear heart that seemed to get so loud each note wrapped itself around her neck and suffocated her. Goat Man, half man,half goat, vicious, was out there stalking the woods in the hills surrounding the cabin. She tried to hold on to as many thoughts of laughter, s'mores and crackling wood from the time earlier that evening around the campfire with her friends, but it was not enough. She pulled her sleeping bag up over her head, but couldn’t drown out the fear of him. Even though she knew he was not real. She was more afraid of the possibility of his existence anyhow.

The Calm - Short Short by Erin Felsen
The sirens started to sound and the radio reported the storm closing in. Mother grabbed as many blankets, candles and all the snacks she had been preparing for weeks knowing the storm was heading our way. Joan was franticly trying to decide which of her dolls was worth saving and which could be sacrificed to the storm. Father was still not home from a week on the road. He was hopefully outside of the city away from the storm, in the cab of his truck, not worrying about us. I know mother was worried about him. How could she not wish he was here with his family during all this? The howling of the wind and the smell of wet pavement filled the air, closing in on us, and it was time. Mother grabbed mine and Joan’s hands and rushed us down stairs to the basement. The lights flickered off and on until the room was completely dark. The fear began to set in as I felt suffocated by the silence. Mother held us close, Joan held her dolls, and we prayed that our house would be spared and that Father would make it home to find us safe. This storm was worse than the last and I knew I had to be brave for Joan, but inside I knew it was the end.

An Attempt at Slam Poetry

I have not written a blog in several years. YEARS! I can't believe it. I used to write daily or at least once a week. Then I moved. And my life was turned upside down, mostly in great ways. So here I am, done will college, and taking a creative writing class to get back into writing. This week's unit topic was Slam Poetry, Procedural Poetry, and Found Poetry. While I do not care much for Found Poems, I had never heard of them and I am sure many of you haven't either. They are basically poems that are works of writings from other sources (i.e. a newspaper, advertisement, the Bible, etc.) and are retyped into poem form, novel form, etc. The poetry is actually the process it takes to put it together into a new form, not necessarily the words itself. It all seems to artsy and obscure to me.

What I loved most this week was Slam Poetry. Think of the spoken word poem "Woman, Whoaaaa Man" in the movie So I Married an Ax Murder. Or perhaps you're familiar with the Beat Generation. All of it used to seem so cheesy and out there to me, until this class. It is beautiful and so powerful. if done right, the words flow like lyrics to a song. The sounds roll off the tongue, fly at you and hit you in the heart. There is crescendo and finality at the end that is as soothing as actual closure to something in life. It is pure art and I only wish I had the courage inside to fight the paralyzing fear I have of public speaking to be able to read my poem out loud.

So this will have to do. I will share with you my Slam Poem. It is called Your Eyes and it is pretty straight forward so I am sure you'll understand the subject. I've also included some of the other poems I wrote this week. One is a haiku and the other is a procedural poem in form of a recipe. I hope you enjoy! And I promise to begin to blog more.

Your Eyes (Slam poem by Erin Felsen)

Your eyes.

They were closed for three months but your ears,

They never stopped hearing.

Cheering for you to get better, but you disappeared.

Fear inside of me knowing that my dad would expire.

Desire.

I wanted to see you sit up in that bed.

Head to toe yourself again,

But I knew.

You.

My dad. Glad you were not going to suffer, but sad,

So sad that you were going to die.

Inside I was afraid of taking steps alone.

Home would never be just that.

What was mom going to do without you by her side.

Hiding away from the family and friends standing there, holding you.

Glued to your bedside and trying to hold back feeling the pain.

Gaining nothing by being so shut down.

Frowns on the faces of those who watched you.

You.

You took your last breath and so did I.

Died.

Fire Mouth (Haiku by Erin Felsen)

A pizza slice

It burned the roof of my tongue

Water saved me

Recipe for Bullying (Procedural poem by Erin Felsen)

Ingredients:

Judgmental mindset and an audience

A busy hallway in a high school building

Societal pressures

Cell phone

Social media account

Snappy hashtag

Bad judgement

Instructions:

1.       Show up at school and hang out in the hallway before class

2.       Notice the differences in everyone

3.       Use a dash of bad judgement to single out the lonely kid or the nerd with no friends

4.       Take out your cell phone and take a picture of said nerd and post it to your Instagram

5.       Use snappy hashtag and share your post virally with the rest of the school