I’ve written a series of very short stories as part of a program called Round Robin. For eight weeks we had to write something every day based on short “prompts” from the instructor. Had to set the timer for 12 minutes. Not any longer, hence their brevity. Tried to squeeze as much into a few paragraphs as I could. Some stories, as you will see below, even had multiple chapters.
Alarm goes off…stop writing.
WARNING: These stories are for entertainment only.
The daily prompt is the title.
If you would be so kind as to indulge me, the next few submissions will include three (very) short stories I’ve written as part of a program called Round Robin. For eight weeks we had to write something every day based on short “prompts” from the instructor. We had to set the timer for 12 minutes. No longer. Hence their brevity. Had to squeeze as much into a few paragraphs as I could. Some stories, as you will see, even have multiple chapters.
Alarm goes off…stop writing.
WARNING: These stories are for entertainment only. If you’re not up to escaping for a couple of minutes and allowing each short story to unfold on its own without much in the “deeper meaning” department, please do not read.
Can we really be nearing the end of 2019? It seems like only yesterday that I was making excuses for not wanting to go out on New Year’s Eve! (I got a million of ’em… )
November and December have always been crazy busy months in my life; Halloween kicks off a slick slide thru November’s family birthdays, all the way to my own birthday on December 4, and then the multiple get togethers and dinners that lace the three weeks until Christmas itself.
A few weeks ago we had some snow that didn’t really stick. A few days later I saw a young father pushing his kid in a baby carriage. “Are the sidewalks clear?” I asked and he said … “yes .. FINALLY!”
In January.
He was a very young man.
It’s Sunday. Column day. And I’ve got …nothing.
It’s not that I’m ‘blocked.’ No, I can think of a million things to say, and even good ways to say them.
The Canadian relationship with winter and snow is a lot like marriage; some love it, and look forward to their time together. Others tolerate winter, but spend a lot of time apart during cold patches. Still others grumble, but it’s a loving martyrdom that takes the good (skiing) right along with the bad (shoveling.)
We’re deep into it now, we Canadians, the meat and potatoes of winter. There’s snow everywhere, the winds are howling, and you risk frostbite every time you peep outside the door to see if the stalactites hanging from the eaves have killed the postman yet. Or if the sidewalk ice got to him first.
On Friday night I spent 2 hours in the car traveling from Toronto International Airport to my house in the far-off suburbs. Why? Because it was the first true snowfall of the season. It wasn’t even a particularly bad snowfall but despite the best efforts of the perpetually inaccurate Weather Network, people just weren’t prepared. A massive accident to the east of Toronto involved over 50 cars. Ramps off our main highway (401) were littered with flipped vehicles, impacted vehicles and stalls. Fortunately, a phalanx of 21 snowplows passed us in the opposite direction to clear the 401 from east to west. In other words it was a winter night like any other in this country. We live a Bob & Doug MacKenzie cliché.
Bullseye Records of Canada
Segarini: Don't Believe a Word I Say 