Tag: Six Sentence Story
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2704: A Different Six
Without Sense I am tired of men who grinwhile cities burn, of suitswho call it strategy, of flagsused as shrouds. I am tiredof the loud being mistakenfor strong, of crueltydressed as realism,of madnessgiven microphones while decent peoplecount coins,ration heat,and bury children. Do not ask mefor balance when the scale itselfis broken. Do not ask mefor…
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3003: The Six Liturgy
Liturgy for the Paddle Wheel — where old and new collide I. The Animal of Iron and BreathIt came up the Rhône like a great beast learning to speak.Pistons for lungs, smoke for voice,paddle wheels striking the waterwith the rhythm of a heart that never tires. We stood on the bank and watched it approach,this…
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4 Feb: Six Sentence Story
Brigid’s Diary: Prologue Brigid’s Diary: Prologue — 12 November 1830Note: Set before the dated pages that follow. We left England before the crows could count us, a small arithmetic of breath and bread. The field-reapers and threshers learned new names for old hungers; men with clean hands arrived asking who tended the sick, the broken…
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0202: Liturgy of Unmasking of a Beach
Liturgy: The Unmasking of a Beach (Or: Where Water Meets the Wound) Note: This week, I am trying something completely different with my Six. Not a six sentence story (as usual) but the (anthropomorphic) psychological effects of storm-driven tides on a local beach. I. The Withdrawal of the SeaThe tide does not come to cleanse.It…
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2.12: Six Sentence Story
At the Intersection of Odd Numbers Bon Appétit — The Pepperbright Canticle The bell above the door startles itself into a shriek of fingernails on a chalkboard as a woman, trailed by a rosy-nosed child in a cat-eared hat, ignores the door slamming shut behind her and asks, “What do you have for a dinner…
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8.10: A Six Sentence Story
The Small Matter at the Aire de la Clermont-Ferrand Rest Stop The cubicle door springs open with a bang, and a woman emerges; our eyes meet in a flash of mutually accusatory side-eye, wads of loo roll fill both of her hands. “French toilets,” she drawls with a weary little heaven-tilt of the head, the…
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09.04: The Garden of Ordinary Apocalypses
The Garden of Ordinary Apocalypses “The Old Woman Wakes the Crow”(an ekphrastic poem after Caspar David Friedrich’s painting “The Tree of Crows/Raven Tree,”) The crow’s nightmare was this:a tree split open like a ribcage,its branches—vertebrae of dusk,its roots clutching a bellthat only rings for roots. “Hush,” says the old woman,peeling a lychee with her knife.“You’ve…
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6 Nov A Six: A Veil of Single Malt Whisky
At an Intersection Named After an English King and a SaintA Six Sentence Story: Part 36 Under a Veil of Single Malt Whisky Pierre’s getting right up my nose lately; he and the scent of linseed oil are wedged in my sinuses … (it’s like pine trees damp with rain; it’s a scent you never…
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2 October: A Six – Part: 32.1, The Nature of Things
At an Intersection Named After an English King and a SaintSix Sentence Story: Part 32.1 1964: The Nature of Things, Part 1 Cerberus There’s a crow in the oak – it’s watching the line where the battle broke. “I don’t know, Grandmother,” I’m in tears; the silent sort that claws, and she turns her back…
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4 Sept: A Six – Part: 26 Navigating a Debris Field
At an Intersection Named After an English King and a SaintSix Sentence Story: Part 26 Navigating a Debris Field last week: Pierre will have to stay here with us; we will clear out the storage room for him,” I say, and Hanzō nods silence; it is the heart of a noble relic that agrees. Navigating…
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