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.

Part 2 - The Story of Brooklyn

She wasn't necessarily running away as much as she was starting over. The past decade was spent in a relationship with a man she met when she was very young and unsure of herself. Life hadn't been easy on her, throwing curve balls of tragedy and loss her way far too often. She finally got the courage to take back her life and start fresh.

The wind gets warmer as the morning approaches early afternoon and the sun rays kiss her cheeks through the windshield. She was no longer smiling as she reminisced about the past three months and the incredible pain she felt from letting someone in to her most private and secretive world. She had met someone that she thought was genuine and connected and ended up seeing the ugly truth. After putting herself out there, leaving her vulnerability and sensitivity exposed, she was left feeling used and slighted. She was not cared for as she deserved, hurt and let down, begging for passion and equal care, always feeling like she was there as a service to him when it suited his needs.

Each memory as it races through her mind causes the tears to build up and it gets harder to choke it down. Before she realizes it she is driving faster into the wind sobbing and asking why she wasn't good enough to love under her breath. It wasn't that she still cared for him or wanted him to reciprocate the affection now. It was too late for that. It was the closure from an explanation that she needed to hear from his mouth that wasn't the bullshit lines he'd been feeding her for months.

She needed to know why he pulled away and why she wasn't good enough, even though deep down inside she knew it was him who had been broken from a trusting love he thought he had with someone else. He had been damaged perhaps beyond repair and lost his own vision of self respect and worth. He had forgotten how to trust and love because he was hurt so badly by his past failures. He was blinded by his pain so badly that he was unable to recognize she was a beautiful, smart, capable, strong woman who would have cared and loved him had he let her. Although hard to believe at this moment, she will learn with confidence that he will never find any better or truer woman than her.

The tears start to dry up as she closes that chapter of thoughts in her mind and reevaluates her situatuon. She is driving with a destination in mind. She is not going to be alone forever. He was just a chapter in a long story of her life, most of it left to unfold. The story of Brooklyn.

The Real Question

 Here is a short story I wrote for a short story contest. I hope you enjoy...


She woke up in a haze, unsure if it were reality or still a dream. Each morning lately begins the same way. Feet shuffling on the cold worn wood floors, she makes it to the bathroom vanity, grabs hold of either side of the sink to brace herself, opens her eyes and stares deeply into her reflection in the mirror.

Typically she breaks her stare and brushes her teeth, not really focusing on any particular thought, letting her mind drift into a silent void. Today was different. As she held her sharp stare a tear ran down her cheek, trailing down the corner of her mouth with her lips closed tight, tasting salty and bitter. A single drop hit the sink and with it her heart ached. She knew inside that she was worth so much more. That she had forgotten to love herself and was not being loved the right way. Today she seemed older. More experienced. More confident than even a single day before. 

As the story goes, she had met someone who she thought to be great, who stoked the flame of her spirit and invigorated her in ways she herself was not even aware of initially. He was intelligent and charming in a quirky and peculiar way. He had a quick wit and a wicked sense of humor, yet was serious and awkward at times. He was mature in so many ways yet childlike and silly out of the blue. He was so different than anything she had known and a welcomed change of pace. He was kind and passionate and made her feel so beautiful and desired. Weeks went on and each day was better than the next. They spent hours talking and building a friendship. His embrace seemed genuine and comforting and despite the challenges they both faced as they each approached their own crossroads, they seemed to be able to share romantic moments with a true connection. 

She was always skeptical and never truly trusting, yet with him she made a conscious effort to be different. Opening her heart and sharing her deepest thoughts, she let him in and in turn he seemed to do the same. Life was a breath of fresh air; silly laughter, witty banter, smiles and gentle touch. If there was a way to stop the ticking clocks to stay within the moments of complete calm and passion with him she would have done it.

As more time passed and they each approached different variations of road blocks life presented them, things began to change. She and her feelings for him only grew, but yet the distance seemed much greater. Almost overnight he grew distant. He no longer called to say good morning.  Pursuit of her and wanting her company was halted. She felt saddened by the lack of care and communication. She felt as if she were an anchor, unwanted, attached and needy. At night she would gaze at the lines in the vintage plaster on her apartment ceiling thinking about what is was that she was doing wrong. What about her was not enough? She was sure that most women at some point feel this when someone pulls away, but yet she felt like her situation was unique. A thought that she now realizes is so cliché.  

Finally, addressing the situation with him, she learned that it was he who was struggling, afraid of taking a leap or reaching another level. Intimacy and connection was seemingly suffocating to him, while to her it was what she has always longed for in a relationship. It was companionship to her and the companionship he claimed to desire; an understanding and mutual respect that was what she had always understood defined a healthy, committed relationship. 

As they continued on seeing each other, the moments were still great, yet the time together was much less frequent. She heard from him less and less and the worry of what it all meant was at times overwhelming. The questions also grew inside. What was she fighting for or holding on to? Why didn’t he care? What was wrong with her? What did she not do that he needed? Why did she trust? 

As you read on I am sure that by now you are thinking this is just a typical girl meets boy story and classic drama, however this is not the point of this story and I will spare you any more lengthy detail. Out of every question that came to her mind, the one she never considered was perhaps the most important. How should I be treated? That is the question she should have been her main concern. She should have taken an inventory of her own self-worth.

On this morning, as she continued the routine of reluctantly opening her eyes, wiping off the crust from a deep sleep, she found the right question. Looking herself in the eye she was very much so aware. She was alert, focused, definite and sure that she was worth more than what she was receiving. For the first time empowerment had shaped her vision of herself and had shown her that she was beautiful. Beautiful physically, attractive in a classic sense, but also a beautiful spirit. She had a strong and loyal heart; a gentle and comforting touch; a passion that burned like a hearty fire; intelligence in both a traditional and unconventional way. She was driven and successful with limitless possibility. He was lucky. She deserved communication, his attention and loyalty, praise and comfort, love and passion. She deserved to give that to herself as well.

The tear that fell from her eye down her face and onto the counter was not a tear of sadness for the distance in the relationship she was in that she wished would reverse itself and become closeness. It was sadness for herself, that she had forgotten who she was and what she believed. It was disappointment that she was unable to see her own beauty and demand that she be treated better. It was the feeling of pain that she could not make someone love her and see that she was an asset and worth the effort. 

She brushed the streaks from the tears off of her face, brushed her teeth, took a shower and refused to look back. She vowed to never again forget who she was. She would never again forget to always be true to herself.