This summer I participated once again in the WritersWeekly.com 24-Hour Short Story contest, and I won a prize. Okay, I didn’t place in the top three, so the prize was not of the cash variety, but my story was recognized as “worthy” which is far more important to me. The story is titled, “The Meek Inherit the Earth,” and it offers a glimpse into one young man’s emergence into the wide world, with his chicken under his arm, just as everything is falling apart. I won’t publish it here, since I hope someone else will also find it worthy, but if you would like to read it, please use the contact page to let me know. – Kim 😉
By Kim Davis © 2011
Late, late, late! It seemed like no matter how early she started getting ready she just could not get out of the apartment on time. Now she was going to blow her interview with Dr. Bonham before she ever got there. Crap! Of course she had neglected to plan enough time to park, and totally ignored the fact that she didn’t know her way around the Northwestern campus. Continue reading “Strings of Solace”
Part 1: Two Voices: Person #1
It was 5:59 a.m. as Larry made his way from the back storeroom up the big center aisle past the heaped sales tables to the glass doors. He could feel the tension in the air as the press of women bore down on the plate glass. He hoped it didn’t break before he could get the door open. He couldn’t stand Early Bird sales. Usually he tried to hide out in the stock room for the first fifteen or twenty minutes till the blood lust had calmed down a little on the sales floor. Continue reading “Point of View Exercise”
In 2010 I belonged to the Madison County Writers Guild where we worked our way through Ursula K. Le Guin’s Steering the Craft. It was a lot of fun.
Here’s a part of the first exercise we did. The instructions were to write a paragraph that included at least three repetitions of a noun, verb, or adjective.
Crunch, crunch, crunch, came the noise from across the aisle as the man chewed his Fritos. She tried to ignore him, staring straight ahead as the elevated train squealed going around a bend in the tracks. Crunch, crunch, crunch – it was growing louder as to her horror, the man leaned across the aisle. He stank and his clothes were foul and stained. The smell of him was even stronger than the smell of the corn chips. Crunch, crunch, crunch, Smack! She heard closer still as he reached out and tugged her sleeve. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to will him away.
“Excuse me, Miss” he exhaled his foul breath across her, “but can you tell me what stop comes next?”