An Elephant, an Aging Clown, a Broken Bone, and Plastic Surgery – My Story

This is one of two stories using the same prompts. My cousin, Jenny, and I are both writers and decided to each write a story using the same prompts. You will see two blog posts, one with her story and one with mine. The prompts came from a Storymatic Box, which I received for Christmas. We both took some liberties with the broken bone.
This is my story.

In the Shadows

The young man sat cross-legged in his usual hiding place, under the bleachers. Through the legs of the gathered townspeople, Ricky watched the old clown perform his routine. Horace waddled over in his big red shoes, stopping in front of a husband and wife. Laughter erupted from the crowd when he backed up, wiggled between the two, and put his arm around the wife.

Continue reading “An Elephant, an Aging Clown, a Broken Bone, and Plastic Surgery – My Story”

An Elephant, an Aging Clown, a Broken Bone, and Plastic Surgery – Jenny’s Story

This is one of two stories using the same prompts. My cousin, Jenny, and I are both writers and decided to each write a story using the same prompts. You will see two blog posts, one with her story and one with mine. The prompts came from a Storymatic Box, which I received for Christmas. We both took some liberties with the broken bone.

This is Jenny’s story.

         Humphrey tended to Bessie as lovingly as he would have his own child, if he’d had one. Caring for the elephants in the Zamziski Family Circus had been a lifetime appointment. His grandfather had cared for the first three elephants that Aldesto Zamziski had acquired when the fledgling circus had toured southern California in 1922. Three young Indian elephants – two girls purchased from a zoo, and a boy from a rich silent film actor who originally thought it would make a lovely yard decoration, but had changed his mind when the elephant had instead decorated the yard with something less than attractive. Continue reading “An Elephant, an Aging Clown, a Broken Bone, and Plastic Surgery – Jenny’s Story”

Too Far (a short story)

Tears burned Daniel’s eyes as he clenched the newspaper and read the obituary for the third time. He wiped his nose with a tissue and asked, aloud, “What right do I have to mourn?”

Being alone in his apartment, no other person answered his question. His guilt, on the other hand, had a strong answer. “You don’t have any right. You are a horrid person. The entire family suffered because of YOU!”

He placed his head in his hands and sobbed, unable to stop the tears of his grief and regret for what he had done. He could never make amends for his selfish betrayal. Some things were too big to forgive. Continue reading “Too Far (a short story)”

Forever

Pierre-Auguste_Renoir_-_Luncheon_of_the_Boating_Party_-_Google_Art_Project.jpg

I’m the one toward the middle, holding the glass of wine. I wish I could put down that glass, at least at night, when the visitors have all left. Still, holding the glass for eternity is better than having that man beside me staring at me every second of every day and night. It’s been over 100 years now, and still he stares.

I am the model and actress Ellen Andrée, or so I thought until 1882. When Auguste painted his last brush stroke of me, on “Le déjeuner des canotiers,” I was terrified. It appeared I’d moved from real life to being stuck in the painting. I tried to call out to Auguste, but I couldn’t move or make a sound. He could obviously see me here. How did he not notice that I was missing from the room where I was modeling? Did he think I’d left the room that quickly? Continue reading “Forever”