Wednesday, June 13, 2012

Messages, A Little Story...

My Favorite Castle

Wednesday Weekly Writing Prompt!

It's Wednesday and so I'm writing another little tidbit of a story. Here's the link to Nicole Pyle's site: HERE.

This week's story must include the following words: 

Again, less than 500 words, the finished story must be linked to Nicole's site and there's a week to complete it. If you're thinking about giving it a try, do it! It's really fun.


    The moment Tom opened the door to his cramped apartment he knew she was gone. The realization of his loneliness descended upon him like a bomb. This time, he thought. She would not be coming back.
    The door closed, the familiar squeak of the aging hinges mixed with the sounds of humanity under stress came from the city street seven floors below. Tom looked around expecting to see her, but knowing the futility of his gaze would yield nothing. The apartment looked pretty much the same, Sarah never had a lot of physical possessions—only memories of her remained in the humid air.
     It was late. Tom had waited, even volunteered to close the coffee shop. He purposely missed the last bus and took a taxi, all in an effort to come home an hour later than normal. He did this because he was afraid to face the very reality that now engulfed the solitary man.
    Tom walked into the kitchen and spotted the answering machine that sat on the counter. One message, as proclaimed by a red blinking number "1" on the small device. Tom hoped it was Sarah that had called, but the pain of hearing her voice would prove worse than if he didn’t. Tom ran his fingers through his jet-black hair and dropped his keys on the counter as he listened to the voice-mail message. He let out a chuckle as the voice from the small white box came not from Sarah, the woman he once loved, but from his grandmother. He’d call her later.
    The easy chair in the apartment’s only room called to him and Tom answered its siren song. The faux leather offered as much comfort as any inanimate object could and Tom expelled spent air from his lungs as he welcomed and thanked the object for assuming the weight of, not only his body, but his soul.
    Tom wasn’t sure how long he slept. An ambulance at least 70 feet below woke him and he saw the pale light of morning filter through the window. He rose and saw something on the coffee table. On the table rested a postcard. Had it been there when he came in last night? Tom’s hazy mind didn’t know. He picked up the postcard and his eyes focused on the picture of a bright orange building. He knew all about that building and where it was. Sarah’s family used to vacation there when she was a child. He turned the card over. It was blank.


  1. I love your use of the word jet. It reminds me to make sure I check all the meanings of each word in case they can be used in a not obvious way.

    1. Thanks Carrie--I appreciate it. I had every word but Jet and I wanted to use it for something different than an airplane. I thought about substituting a jet flying over instead of an ambulance, but the hair thing came to me and I found a way to put it in the story. Thanks for noticing! Looking forward to reading yours!

  2. I really, really like this story. It feels very melancholy and dark, but in a very positive way - a human way. I also like your descriptions, they flow very nicely. The ending was wonderful, and I love it. Very well done! Keep up the great work!

    1. Thanks Chessny! I worried a little about the ending (thought about extending it a bit...) but when it's all said and done, he's alone and there's nothing left but the picture. Thanks again for the kind words!

  3. Oh this is so perfect. I couldn't help but think of that one song, "Solitary Man" once you mentioned it. Now I'm dying to know if that's a secret message from her or something. :) Good, good work! And thank you for joining in the blog hop!

    1. Nicole--these little exercises have been such a blast! Thank YOU for going through all the effort to keep them going. I actually thought about having the girl leave a message on the card, but that didn't feel right. But, if you'd like to imagine something more there, no problem... ;) Thanks again!

  4. I love that line about the faux leather chair offering as much comfort as an inanimate object can. I brought me back to how my bed makes me feel and a very real idea that an object is sometimes the only thing around to comfort a person who is going through a tough time. Great job again, Keep them coming.

    1. Thanks Sydney! I actually thought about some way to give this guy comfort, but didn't want it to come from another person. It's a little weird, but...well, you know. Thanks again!