June 15, 2007
55Friday: The "One Sentence Story" EditionHaiku
I hadn’t logged in to my del.icio.us for a while; when I did so today, one of the “popular” links on the main page caught my eye.
One Sentence - True stories, told in one sentence. [link]
Since I’m the resident doyenne of fast fiction (ironic, innit?), I was predictably and immediately interested.
As soon as I thought, “This might be fun for 55Friday,” your torment was assured. Last week, we had as many haikus as we did examples of nanofiction, so I know you like to change things up a bit. Oh, and to those who wondered out loud why we do this writing-thing/expressed how you’d like to see less of these posts on SM, I have three things to type:
1) Others actually love what you dislike.
2) It’s a tradition! We’re desi, we love rituals and routines!
3) As one of you put it in a very kind email:
I noticed that you haven’t posted a 55Friday topic in a while. I hope you didn’t discontinue it. I love 55Friday because it’s the only time during the week when I’m creative. One day a week, I get to feel like I’m living up to that ever-present new year’s resolution to “write more”, so please bring it back if you can.
So, please ignore this if it doesn’t have any effect on your knickers and move on to something which will— and that’s solid advice for every post you wrinkle your cute little nose at, not just 55Fridays.
Okay, back to one-sentence wonders. The most significant difference between this and our typical 55s? These are supposed to be true, real, non-fiction. I chose a few from the site, to inspire you and help demonstrate what to do. Most of these were plucked from the “Best of” section.
I don’t wish that I had Jesse’s girl…why did he find a woman like this:
Jesse
She’s ruined half of my music library for me.
Since these are true stories, this one made my heart crack:
zot
I am heart-sick because, like many parents of children with profound disabilities, my most secret and unspoken prayer is “Dear God, please let me outlive my child.”
This (since they’re supposed to be true!) is just wrong :)
Adam
The pedestrian looked concerned, as he bounced off the bonnet of my car.
The following reminds me of my little sister; though she pretends to scribble in the air to quickly figure out which her right is, instead of doing what’s below.
Jabberwocky
I know 18 digits of pi and can recite the quadratic equation, but I still need to make an L with my hand to find out where left is.
This could have been written by one of my closest friends, a quondam lawyer and current SAHM:
ilinapde
I always thought I’d be a type-A career woman my whole life, but there he was on my chest, squirming, blinking, crying, clutching my little finger with all his might.
If this IS a true story, wow:
countedx58
How fitting it was that my best friend’s abusive husband died a painful death from melanoma of the rectum.
Have a bit o’ humor:
Erik Wennstrom
It was one of those exams that you absolutely must pass if you want to continue in the program, and I failed the set-your-alarm-clock-properly portion.
THIS is for the most unsuitable girl I know:
dooya
Recently I realized that I waste my life on the internet … and published this insight in a blog.
Kinda poignant:
denton
I want to hold her to stop her tears, but I know my girlfriend would not appreciate that.
And a final pinch of humor:
zooey
Only later did I realize that the taxi driver wasn’t making an obscene gesture, but rather, trying to inform me that I had left a box of takeout on the roof of my car.
See? Wasn’t that swift and yet satisfying? :) Some of you are intimidated by the prospect of writing 55 words which contain an entire story; maybe creating something zimbler, like one sentence will free you from your fears.
Here, the silk ties which will bind your hands, if you so desire:
All stories must be one sentence and one sentence only. Yes, there are ways you can write a gramatically correct sentence that goes on and on and on (hello, semicolon!) but please keep it reasonable. The idea is to tell a story from your life in as little space as possible.
The best One Sentence stories are ones that give the reader a clear picture but also leaves them thinking, “I wonder what happened after that…”
Try to avoid starting your story with “One time…” or “I remember when…” and other similar crutch openings. [link]
If you love what you’ve done and care to submit it to the actual “One Sentence” website where I pulled all of today’s examples from, click here and paste away.
And finally, our standard fine-print:
Obviously, you may ignore this new kink in our virtual writing-orgy and 55 away, especially if you prefer creating fictional stories vs. retelling true ones. We’ll love you and your nanofiction just as much, I promise. The point is to write, right? :)
anna on June 15, 2007 12:25 AM in Haiku · T·r·a·c·k·b·a·c·k address · Direct link · Email post
He kissed me goodnight last Tuesday, his beard soft and ticklish... and that was the last time I saw him.
hmmm i probably should've thought about it more but it's 10:10 pm (way past my bedtime) and I did not want to pass this up.. hey ann, do you know what ever happend to Pattie Kaur?? :)
sorry, I forgot to do spell check ... I meant Anna... i forgot the other A... sorry :)
Losing virginity to an aunt at 15 made him unloveable.
i wish i could say the same to you.
To wake up in bed with a black eye, stinking of cheap 2 for 1 beer, next to your most hated girl in the world slobbering all over you is never a good start to the day.
I love the smell of neiyappam in the morning!
A cool breeze blew and took her with it, merging her with the night sky, while I stood at the edge of the cliff,watching her go, smelling her sweet smell for the last time.
every time she saw him, it amazed her that it was possible to be attracted to and fearful of a person at the same time.
He wondered if his sentence was too short, like Paris Hilton's.
Clarence Thomas wondered if he'd always be an Uncle Tom to his sister's kids.
I had listened to the stranger's tales with fascination so far, but when he pointed to a great oak tree and said "and that's the tree I am buried under", I knew my solo forest trek had taken a disturbing turn....
He clamored for his freedom and upon its arrival, he put it into the fridge and his parents shaadi.com'd his docile ass.
The Tamil Brahmin looked discriminatingly at his reflection as he brushed his teeth in the morning, the one time he could answer himself without reservations, and asked if he was being casteist enough, elitist enough to succeed.
And there we were in the back seat of my mustang not realizing that we had spectators
That's hot.
Kaavya, sure she had a magnum opus on her hands this time around, began her book, "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times."
This does not fit either the 55 words or the one sentence limit, but, for those who can read Bangla, Bonophul had a bunch of short (less than half a page) stories. The most poignant one I remember is "Ekti Neem Gachher Golpo" (Story of a neem tree; of course it's not really about the tree) (Might have got the name wrong, knowledgable ones feel free to pitch in). Of course he wasn't pitching it as a short short-story, just as a short story. Nevertheless ...
One minute to create one line, she wON THE LOTtery.
I looked at the photograph of those cute kids, and wondered why the T-shirts didn't come in XS or XXS.
She was always taught to stand up for herself and yet she let him do that to her.
If hell exists should I try not to sin, wondered the masochist.
Anand Jon passionately defended himself on the witness stand, shouting, "I did not have sex with that woman!"
Since she was a super figure with awesome boobs, I instinctively said Good Morning but she did not immediately check on her cleavage and that's when I realized I was in Vancouver not Veerasamipettai.
He mused if people all over the world would realize how empty their lives were, if not for the Indian invention of zero.
My attempt to make the best true story of my life into one sentence:
After I impulsively took my last chance ever to kiss him, he pulled away, looked into my eyes and said "I think we need to talk."
As Father's Day approached, she wondered if his two sons knew about their half-sister but she heaved a sigh and went back to the kitchen where the mess made by the two little boys and their dad awaited her very special expertise.
i call in sick when i'm not so i can go surfing, eat mommy's cooking and blaze all day.
Reading #25 I ponder, it our fate to never have the things we dream about, or do we dream about the things we can't have?
Their playing with words became unexpectedly dangerous when they tied themselves up into knots during a game of Quipu.
Sunita was thrilled to be crossing the final frontier, but her hopes were dashed when she was turned back for not having her immigration papers.
Living my life in "to be continued" till he comes back in August.
Intense nostalgia Immediately Intensifies when he realizes he could be watching FDFS Sivaji with Ilango, IlanCheliyan, Ilavarasi, Ilanthirumaran, Imran, Imtiaz, Indraneel, Indumadhi, Inbavanan, Indirani, Inteqab, Inimozhi, Iraimani, Isha, Isaimurasu, Irumudi, Ishwari, Iyappan, Inbavanan, Ilamborai, Induja, Isaiarasi and Ilaiyaraja In Indira talkies, Ilandiraikondan taluk Instead of discussing Insignificant Idiots Including obama and hillari on the Internets.
yabba ambathanju varthai porumporumnu ayiduchu :)
On a humid Vegas evening, standing at the corner of Sodom & Gomorrah, our father-less platoon of children and mothers were rudely accosted by a swarthy fellow who claimed he had room on a hip-swiveling trip to Bombay--despite the come-hither hitch in his jaunty gait and the WD40 sprayed liberally on his thinning hair, the matriarchs declined his offer and shoved the children into the nearest cabaret.
Standing in eight inches of basement sewage, holding the churning 150 pound augur as it snaked through the pipe, he could not let it go, to wipe the brown piece splashed on his cheek.
Crap; I can't belive I hit the "Post" button too
Oh, but HMF, that was a true story, and, at the risk of being overly cheesy, a dream come true.
I wasn't questioning whether it was truth or not.
He finally realized why the chicken crossed the road, but alas, was hit by a bus as he paused mid-stride, struck by his revelation.
Not exactly true, but here:
"or forever hold your peace..," shit, how was she ever supposed to hold it in for that long?
Deep in thought trying to write a clever one-sentence story for a web blog that he frequented, Bahadur did not realize that had inadvertently complicated his life by remaining motionless while his boss leaned over and whispered, "if you keep staring out that window I will assume that you are trying to tell us that you are not motivated to keep working here"
Quasimodo sighed as he cleaned up the pieces of his crack'd mirror for the umpteenth time, wondering how he was ever going to shave.
Sure, he could write something intense and emotional that rang true, but if he was capable of faking that kind of authenticity, why wouldn't he just run for president?
Rahul.. multiple-liner, rule-breaker, A dreamer.
The girl at the bar sniggered since Rahul was unable to proceed beyond his one-liners ...
Rahul, in his prescience, preempted his future doubters with post 42, which as is well known, is the answer to life, the universe, everything.
She seethes and suffers, attacked by envy of Rahul ,his effortless wit and seeming abundance of time while she slaves away at her soulless job.
"No, I don't have change for a hundred;" she said, stepping out of the car.
Staring at my trash can, I think, if I don't like it, where can I throw it out?
My name is Sri Vatsam Murthy but you can call me Sir Watson Murphy...
In 3rd grade, during lunch, my mother showed up at school to apologize for the night before when she hit me with a high heeled shoe and called me a bitch for no reason she could share with her eight-year-old.
Runa looks up in fear at her boss, staring at her computer screen.
How ironic that he closed the door on me and opened it for her and I closed it back in return and opened it for someone else and now she closed the door on him HA.
Rahul wonders; "Will they still love me, when they find out I'm 12?"
My biggest worry is whether they'll still need me, still feed me, when I'm 64.
He ran his hands gently down my back, about my hips and up and down my thighs before handing me my boarding pass.
She recoils in horror upon reading this - has she really been fantasizing about meeting someone younger than her son?
good one Jazz (55). never saw that coming.
Jazz, that was classic, beautifully done!
Even though its been more than a decade since that terriying ride to the hospital, she still creeps into his room at night to check that her child is breathing.
He wondered to no one in particular whether the bloggers would get around to posting the story about 'Desi Girl Presents Thesis in her underwear' before he left work for the day.
I muse upon those halcyon times that sparkle iridiscent in my memory, when I was still youthful enough to compete in the spelling bee.
Tonight she waits to speak with her beloved in silence. Once again we will prove all things felt depend
upon what is not felt.
“36 MPG! So what do you think?” she said and a few months later, I was sneaking up her driveway, hoping that she had not seen the big red bow driving in.
Sure, that car dealer had been tough, Maya's dad thought, but he'd really softened up in the last couple of hours after being immersed in boiling water.
No, for the last time I don't think I am ready for this jelly.
"How come the Clintons get invited to all the nice weddings, and I don't", Obama thought to himself.
He gazed tenderly at her dark eyes, her full lips and at the small hole in her forehead as he blew the smoke off his gun.
Jazz,
Another great one!
I've only gotten into one fistfight my entire elementary school career, however I won, but she was pretty tough.
In the beginning there were Adam and Eve and then there was incest and all mankind came from that sin and so GOD is a pervert.
she removed the last of his clothing and took the view of his body in, thinking, maybe it wasn't all in his head.
Since no one is doing a 55 today, I thought I quick whip one.
Before the start
“If you come by my city, call me”
End of First
“Next time you visit, could we get some coffee?”
Halftime
“No more Airports or Good bye’s ever again!”
End of Third
“You could not have tied that bow?”
Final score
“The Cigar says it’s a girl!”
We both won, no overtime.
She was excited to know how great her boss would feel when thrusting with ease once she ordered her new sharpener.
I've already seen Kill Bill:
You know, Kiddo, I'd like to believe that you're aware enough even now to know that there's nothing sadistic in my actions. Well, maybe towards those other... jokers, but not you. No Kiddo, at this moment, this is me at my most masochistic.
Bill... it's your baby...
The guys racing on Harleys vroomed by my car making me wish I was on a bike instead of in a boring sedan and a split second later I heard a loud crash and my car ran over something.
As always, I rolled over in the morning to that glowing face, those lustrous hands, and that ghastly shrieking noise from my alarm clock which I'd shut off if I could just find the goddamn snooze button.
He told me he loved me so many times in the past; when I finally found the courage to say it back to him, he walked away.
As George woke up to the mess he'd made in his bed, the realization slowly dawned that his physician had not been questioning the competence of his administration when he said the President suffered from incontinence.
One time, in band camp, ...
"I can't feel a damn thing;" she screamed at the man hovering above her, "are you always this gentle, was it the drugs you gave me, or are you just a great dentist?"
I wonder how many children I would have had if I had married him and how many years it would have been before we divorced.
I wondered if I should tell him that I now like someone else.
I looked at her and she held my gaze, neither of us willing to admit defeat, until I finally gave in and gave her the one thing she wanted most: catnip.
I used to think I was a people person until I realized that I view all my meaningful relationships as being maintained long-distance over the intimacy of my shiny pink KRAZR, and the friends I've surrounded myself with are merely time-passes.
Runa awakes in a cold sweat, echoing in her brain are the words; "I'm Chris Hanson..."
I’d tell you to go to Hell, but I work there ....
The entire FBI bunker cheered as they realized that all they needed to ID their predator was a meetup.
He was dark, muscled, handsome and in uniform and their eyes locked as she walked by him; he looked back and she did too and it was raw and pure; who would know if she took him home on this weekend of healing?
They pushed her towards the figure lying on the bed, "pay your respects, get your blessings" but she cringed and pretended to touch her forehead to the ice-cold feet of her brother's body as the women wailed and beat their chests.
And then he figured out how he could maintain a perennial presence on his favorite blog, but where in the world was he going to find a thousand monkeys and a thousand computers?
I was filled with infinite joy sleeping next to her and her child - problem was, neither she nor the child was mine.
Rain poured and lightening thundered and the hatred made her wish that when the phone rang it would be the highway patrol telling her that he had had an accident and as she watched the rain through the window with tears in her eyes, the phone's ring shattered the silence.
Hilarious stuff Manju and Rahul!
Six years later, I sometimes wonder if it's possible to feel anything at all, ever again.I've had three postcards published on PostSecret.It took my divorce for my family to finally learn how to actually talk to each other respectfully, as adults.I did not understand my first encounter with racism when it happened to me, because I was only eight years old, but now the memory fills me with rage and indignation.Most good stories can be summed up in one sentence, but unless you're Rahul, it only makes them seem depressive or poignant.