SUNDAY'S SURPRISE: Open the Envelope (m)

iVillage Member
Registered: 03-25-2003
SUNDAY'S SURPRISE: Open the Envelope (m)
8
Sun, 02-10-2002 - 11:42am

SUNDAY'S SURPRISE: Open the Envelope (m)


During our SSB chat this past week, Elailah made this suggestion for an exercise. Write a short story that contains no adverbs or adjectives. So are you up for the challenge? The subject is open but let’s make the word limit a minimum of 250.

Happy writing,

Mac

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Avatar for countrygal23
iVillage Member
Registered: 03-26-2003
Sun, 02-10-2002 - 2:11pm

Here's mine and it was a challenge!


Kelly slammed her door shut and fell onto the bed. She grabbed a pillow and punched it. She recalled the memory of what had transpired.

Houston stopped her after school and said, “We need to talk.”

So they went to his truck. Kelly climbed up and in and scooted over and he sat beside her.

Houston gazed into her eyes and said, “I like you Kelly but I think we should break up. I want to date other girls.”

Kelly replied, “You’re dumping me so you can go out with that slut!”

“I’m tired of being tied down,” Houston explained.

Kelly moved over to the door, opened it and said, “Go to hell!” then she exited.

She remembered stomping to her car, starting it and driving home.

The telephone ringing brought her back to the present. Kelly answered it, found out who it was then hung up because the caller was the slut and her friend.

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iVillage Member
Registered: 03-25-2003
Sun, 02-10-2002 - 7:31pm

Good job, Maria (m)


I didn't realize how challenging it would be (I'm working on mine now).

I liked how Kelley didn't buy off on Houston wimping excuse for breaking up with her and then how she hangs up on the slut! Good for her.

Mac

iVillage Member
Registered: 03-25-2003
Sun, 02-10-2002 - 8:56pm

Here's mine (m)


I had just leaned down to the basket of clothes I was hanging when Heath called out my name. I ran towards the kitchen door expecting to find him sprawled out on the floor, the result of a heart attack or something.

Instead he was standing at the stove staring into the oven. “Maggie, can you tell me what this is?”

“They're beans,” I answered.

“Yes, I quite aware what beans are but why are they in the oven?” He squinted his eyes and his lip began to curl.

“Well, the recipe...you see it called for a Dutch oven and I didn’t know where Kenmore is made but--”

“God, you worry me sometimes,” he said. “Don’t you know anything?”

I stomped across the room and pulled the pan from the oven, water and beans spilling from it. “I told you I didn’t cook when you married me.”

I realized at that moment--after five years of marriage--that Heath didn’t fully understand the meaning of “didn’t cook” back when he told me it didn’t matter. We were in love and horny and both tired of waiting to prove our love to each other. So we’d hopped in his truck and took off across town. I had worn a dress that most resembled something appropriate for a wedding and he borrowed his uncle’s suit.

After the Justice of the Peace announced us Man and Wife, we pecked each other on the lips and headed for the Motel 8 up the road.

We made love three times that night and as we cuddled together, I’d whispered in Heath’s ear, “I never told you I don’t know how to cook.”

Still tingling from head to toe, he’d mumbled, “It don’t matter.”

iVillage Member
Registered: 09-24-2003
Sun, 02-10-2002 - 9:25pm

No Small Bone to Pick


He rolled over and checked the clock, again, for what must have been the hundredth time. The time, 2:30 in the morning, it was still dark outside. How could you call this morning? This was the middle of the night as far as he was concerned.

Lying there thinking of yesterday, the acid burned a hole in his stomach. He must have been out of his mind to call his boss an idiot. Yes, that was it; he’d lost his mind. He heard his wife of two years sleeping next to him moan. How could he tell her he no longer had a job? Her belly created a mound in the middle of the bed, growing their child in that pouch, another reminder of his failure.

As the acid climbed up his throat, he decided he better get something to eat to settle his nerves. He got out of bed, threw on his robe, and wandered into the kitchen. The refrigerator door clicked open, the glare of the light reflected off his forehead as he stuck his face halfway into the fridge. There he spotted the carcass of their turkey dinner. He pinched off a piece of breast meat and popped it into his month, and forgot to chew the meat before he swallowed.

His eyes grew wide with fear as he clutched his throat,a sliver of bone lodged there. A perfect ending to a ship dead in the water.

iVillage Member
Registered: 09-24-2003
Sun, 02-10-2002 - 9:40pm

Well Mac...


That was a great amount of detail in a very short-short. Good job...and it made me smile, and reminded me how folks only a couple of decades ago got married because they wanted to have sex, not for love...but then who knows what love really is until you've been married, Oh, about 10 years.

Thanks for posting, kat

Avatar for countrygal23
iVillage Member
Registered: 03-26-2003
Sun, 02-10-2002 - 11:46pm

Splendid


I love the voice in this piece! The plot was great and the humor appealing, a lot of story in a short amount of words.

Great job,!!

Maria

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Visitor (not verified)
anonymous user
Mon, 02-11-2002 - 12:26pm

It's amazing what the heat of passion will make us do! Great Story! (n/t)


Avatar for portraitinflesh
iVillage Member
Registered: 03-28-2003
Mon, 02-11-2002 - 5:31pm

Here goes


Grammar and I have never been the best of friends, so hopefully not too many adjectives/adverbs slipped through here.

Ramona

***

“Eat your skin.” Dad’s voice broke the silence that had been hanging over the table since he’d come home with a bucket of Kentucky Fried Chicken.

“She doesn’t have to if she doesn’t want to,” Mom said. “The skin has a lot of fat.”

“It’s a waste if you don’t eat it,” Dad said, ignoring Mom. “I won’t have you being wasteful. We can’t afford that right now.”

I knew where this conversation would be going. Mom would say something about how I was old enough to make decisions for myself. Dad would say something about how I still needed discipline and instruction. The words were sometimes different, but their purpose remained the same.

What it all boiled down to was the fact that Mom and Dad could no longer communicate. So they tried to talk through me. It worked about a third of the time.

I poked my spork into my mini-mountain of mashed potatoes. I had something to tell them. I’d had suspicions for over a month now. So when I got home from school that afternoon I locked myself in the bathroom. The home pregnancy test told me what I’d known for a while.

Mom and Dad were still arguing through me. I didn’t catch what words were being said, but I could tell from their tones that the shouting would soon begin.

I knew I’d have to tell them. I also knew they wouldn’t hear me.

Visitor (not verified)
anonymous user
Mon, 02-11-2002 - 5:39pm

You make it look so easy...


watch out for those fishbones, lol. Poor guy. Great job of writing without adjectives and adverbs.

Happy Monday to you, Eyewrite

Visitor (not verified)
anonymous user
Mon, 02-11-2002 - 5:40pm

Yup, you did it!...


If it was hard work, it didn't show up in the piece you posted. Great job. An intruiging story without those pesky adjectives and adverbs.

Happy Monday, Eyewrite

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