I love the idea of short stories, the shorter the better. My favourite, by an author unknown to me, goes something like this:
“‘it’s really hard trying to live beneath a man that’s learning to play the violin’ she said to the police officer handing over the revolver”
This single microscopic story led me to follow the same formula and try and recreate something similar. My attempts are below:
Audience unphased, the busker continued as his batteries rolled slowly away from the silent amplifier
Illuminated by the tinder glow, the brand new lighter wrapped around 14yr old fingers, was swallowed in to the dry woodland night. Soon it would be the other way round.
Soaked through & muddied, she consumed the wells edge and absorbed her unreturned echo: ‘can you hear me?’.
‘A homecooked meal already? and I hardly know you. What is this? Chicken?’. More vegetables were served as the ratcatcher smiled.
‘Once we find the weapon, we’ll find your husbands murderer’ said the officer as her widening eyes followed the frozen leg of lamb sliding back into the freezer.
Brushing aside the last 10 attempts of ‘he loves me not petals’ she picks one more daisy.
As the corpse lay smothered under the hotel duvet, the agent reiterated down the phone ‘She said she isn’t getting out of bed for less than a million’.