Words

Fish can swim in the ocean.

LOL

"Well, that didn't go as expected."

Ice skating or nah

"Whoa! Great idea!" Then, she slipped.

Six Word Stories

Ernest Hemingway is credited with writing the shortest, saddest story of all time:

For sale: baby shoes, never worn.


Why is that a story? It has conflict. What is the conflict? Well, that depends on where you fall on the sentimental/cynical continuum.

Many people read it as the story of hopes shattered: maybe a woman bought baby shoes in anticipation of having a baby but was never able to. Or even worse: maybe those shoes were a gift to a baby who didn't survive. Whatever the case, the owner of the shoes can't bear to possess them anymore but doesn't want to throw them away. Maybe it gives her peace to think that some other baby will be able to wear them.

Come to think of it, don't we all have tangible objects that are reminders of dashed hopes and dreams? That baseball bat we used until we didn't make the team. Those dried flowers that were a gift from a date. Paints and brushes we bought, hoping to express ourselves artistically until we realized how untalented we are. Now those items sit on a shelf or in a corner, mocking our insufficiency. Why are we hanging on to them?

I'd say that's a fair amount to get from a six word story. But the more cynical among us might say that sounds like an ad on a Facebook yard sale group; maybe the shoes were a duplicate gift and the seller just wants to get top price for them. It's still a story--there is a still a conflict--but it's not a rich one.

For today, write a six word story. It should have an (implied) conflict and should be narratively rich enough to provoke thought. After you write your story, comment on two stories of others, suggesting the story behind the six words as you understand it. In the comments, you can explain your thoughts about your story after a few people have tried to explicate it.

Here is my six word story:

He leaped. "No! Changed my mind!"

In Response to Harris

It started to rain so we decided to take a break for the night at the cave. I was so tired but couldn't sleep. I couldn't see anything and the thought of having something I couldn't see around us that could kill us, scared me. While thinking these scary things, I thought I kept hearing noises coming from deep in the cave. I decided starting a fire would be the best idea to help ease my mind, so I felt around for two rocks. Eventually I got the fire going and kept it going with the sticks that were laying around in the cave. I sat there, thinking about where we were going to go from here to get out of the jungle in the morning, when I heard a scream coming from the back of the cave...

In response to Josh

Time. Time. Time. I don’t know how long I sat there, staring at those numbers on the clock. I had slept. I had done it. I turned toward the pill bottle, smiling in happiness, but something was wrong. There were no pills left.

I picked up the bottle, looking at it. I looked at it from underneath. I looked down at it. From the left. From the right. I looked and looked and looked, fighting the rage that was filling me. Rage at the terror that felt like a knife coursing through my head.

There were no. pills. left.

It was then I heard something, a voice that was faint and fuzzy. I was staring at that pill bottle, tears welling in my eyes when I looked up suddenly.

For the first time since I could remember, I heard something. It wasn’t like the torturous noises I had heard all throughout my dreams, throughout the past days. It sounded real.

”It was too much. The new drug, it was too much for her system.”

The room in front of me blacked out for a second, replaced with darkness. I shook my head, clawing at my eyes. It did it again, and again, and Again.

Finally, the room in front of me vanished all together. I opened my eyes slowly, staring up.

At first I thought I was going blind. All I saw was white. Bright, bright white. Then I realized I was in a room. The walls were white. The ceiling, white. Even the labcoats of the two people standing in front of me.

I recognized the voice of one of them. It was the voice of Doctor brown. But the man was not doctor brown.

I looked at where I saw, on a small chair. No chains bound my hands like in my dream. It was simply Velcro. Velcro that held me down as I screamed in panic.

My eyes swum with tears, blinding with the light from those glaring lights above me.

The tears clouded my vision, so that all I heard was the familiar voice of the man who was not Doctor Brown.

“We’ll have to bring her down off it. Then we can try the next drug.”

In response to Josh

Time. Time. Time. I don’t know how long I sat there, staring at those numbers on the clock. I had slept. I had done it. I turned toward the pill bottle, smiling in happiness, but something was wrong. There were no pills left.

I picked up the bottle, looking at it. I looked at it from underneath. I looked down at it. From the left. From the right. I looked and looked and looked, fighting the rage that was filling me. Rage at the terror that felt like a knife coursing through my head.

There were no. pills. left.

It was then I heard something, a voice that was faint and fuzzy. I was staring at that pill bottle, tears welling in my eyes when I looked up suddenly.

For the first time since I could remember, I heard something. It wasn’t like the torturous noises I had heard all throughout my dreams, throughout the past days. It sounded real.

”It was too much. The new drug, it was too much for her system.”

The room in front of me blacked out for a second, replaced with darkness. I shook my head, clawing at my eyes. It did it again, and again, and Again.

Finally, the room in front of me vanished all together. I opened my eyes slowly, staring up.

At first I thought I was going blind. All I saw was white. Bright, bright white. Then I realized I was in a room. The walls were white. The ceiling, white. Even the labcoats of the two people standing in front of me.

I recognized the voice of one of them. It was the voice of Doctor brown. But the man was not doctor brown.

I looked at where I saw, on a small chair. No chains bound my hands like in my dream. It was simply Velcro. Velcro that held me down as I screamed in panic.

My eyes swum with tears, blinding with the light from those glaring lights above me.

The tears clouded my vision, so that all I heard was the familiar voice of the man who was not Doctor Brown.

“We’ll have to bring her down off it. Then we can try the next drug.”