Tales From Fiction Writing Class

Tales from fiction writing class

Create a scene using details and imagery to convey a feeling without stating it directly, use like dialog.

"I'm just trying to help you. You ‘re going to go to Hell."

My throat dried out. It felt like those mornings after I had smoked a couple of Menthols 100s the night before while drunk at some bar. My nose was starting to burn as well, like when you're underwater and you breathe in. Caleb seemed to notice my discomfort after a moment.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. Just ... I'm sorry."

The lights in the restaurant seemed too bright all of a sudden. The other customers all seemed to be too happy to be real people. Even the glass of water next to me looks too pretty to drink. It's probably from the tap, filled with iron and rust particles. Drinking anything in this place sounded awful. 

Silence set in then. My eyes wandered over to the tables that surrounded us. There was a man in a suit with a bolo tie that didn’t like his salad but still eating it. A ceiling fixture on the opposite wall had an overlooked cobweb on it. A woman sitting a bit away wore a pretty summer dress with a pair of black and white Adidas sneakers, looking cute and quirky.

I heard Caleb start to talk again, but I continued to stare at her shoes." I think once you start going to worship with my family you'll really like it. The people there are so welcoming and nice. You know it kinda hurts my feelings that you won't even try to come just once." I wish I was cute and quirky.

The woman noticed me staring at her then and gave me a rude look. I slowly turned my body forward in the chair as my stomach contoured into a painful ball. Caleb was looking away now, but he felt my eyes on him. He took a deep breath and put on a forced smile before looking at me again.

“I got you something." He pulled a red jewelry box out of his pants pocket and slide it over to my side of the table. "Happy six months." The piano music was now very melancholy yet it hadn't changed keys. His hands started shaking a bit. He wanted me to explode into a smile and kiss him passionately, then he’d feel better.

"Uh… here." He reaches over and opens the box. It was a small heart pendant encrusted with three white diamonds. The one that’s super popular with many women right now. The one that his sister had flaunted at me two months ago over dinner and I had pretended to love out of politeness.

I should rub my eyes, but then I'll smear my makeup and it'll get in my contacts and it'll look like I'm crying and I'm not crying.

"Please say something."

“I don't feel well,” a hoarse voice says.

He has a look on his face. One I can't name, but I know it well. The one some old classmates I don't talk to anymore had. The one a street preacher had when he yelled at me for wearing a skirt. It seems a lot of people have this look. An old roommate had it. The cashier at Walmart. My mom. 

“You’ll feel better after you eat.”

Oh, my darling. I know you are not a Cathedral, but you’re no less holy.

- Unused bits from a never-finished book

Oh J

Even when I try to leave

You pull me back. 

Perhaps if I was a better poet, you’d like me for. 

A Garbage Story That I Had To Write In Under 100 Words And 10 Minutes Or Ghost Boy

There once was a boy who saw ghosts. So, one day, his mom toke him to see a psychic. 

As the psychic read his palms, she began to scream. “ He has the gift. The gift.” The boy became scared and they left.

Eventually, the boy grew into a man and became a regular guest star on Dr.Oz and The Maury Show that gave readings to the audience. He got married at 45, then divorced at 63, then remarried at 65. This marriage stuck until he died at 89. But no one could see his ghost.  

“ You are so brave and quiet I forgot you were suffering.”

- Ernest Hemingway, A Farewell to Arms

I started riding the bus on Saturday nights

I started riding the bus on Saturday nights after you left. 

When the bus driver asked me where I would get off I told him the mall but I had no intention to. I would just ride around in circles, listening to music, and stare out the window at the buildings bathed in the night light. 

I don't know why you affected me so much. I'd like to say it's because I gave you my virginity, but I'd be lying. 

Maybe I just like the bus. Being there in the darkest, sitting in the silence, it’s almost felt like meditating.