Two Stories
Here are two very short stories that I wrote this afternoon that I will never ever be able to sell anywhere. One is essentially a dream I had; the other is not.
The Brickwork Plaza
Henry leans against the doorframe of an old barn. He reads a catalog of pornographic toys and sex paraphernalia. Two men drive up with a tractor and ask Henry to leave the doorway so they can get in. The two men operate a garage out of the barn. Henry moves on.
He runs into Julie, who has a picnic basket. They walk down the street towards the downtown plaza together. They pass a church that bustles with people getting ready for a charity brunch the next day. A group of elderly men block the sidewalk; one of them has a monstrous beard. Julie steps out into the street to pass them. Henry squeezes between a fence and a short post. His checkbook and thumb-drive fall out of his pocket. The checkbook falls in a puddle and many of the checks are ruined. Henry and Julie collect the remains of the checkbook and the intact thumb-drive.
A large woman who can barely support herself from age or ruination approaches them from the bustling church. She leans heavily on Julie and hands Henry the largest shard of the thumb-drive's shattered case. She expects Henry and Julie to volunteer at the charity brunch in return. She tells them to get a good night's sleep and be at the church for nine.
The plaza is a number of hexagons that flow into one another. It occupies the side of a hill and the brick paving isn't very good. Henry and Julie wander from one area to another. Henry wonders why he doesn't spend more time at the plaza. Some friends visited Henry recently and he regrets not bringing them here.
Julie busies herself with the picnic basket amongst some flower beds. Henry listens to a street preacher who refuses to give his true name. He tells Henry to call him Malik. Malik was once the subject of a commemorative stamp issued by the town post office. The image did not look at all like Malik; it was vaguely and inaccurately racist. Malik enters a church that opens onto the plaza. It is a very fashionable church.
A group of schoolchildren led by a chaperone come around the corner. The lights in the fashionable church turn on. Malik comes out of the church and Henry invites him to join the picnic. One of the schoolchildren recognizes Malik and they have a short conversation. The schoolchildren move on. Henry has a vision of demons against the crest of a wave. They all sit down to eat hamburgers amongst the flowers.
In the World With Two Italies
In the World With Two Italies there are, of course, two Italies. They jut side-by-side into the Mediterranean. The rest of Europe stretches appropriately to accommodate the extra border length as compared to our Europe. The Strait of Gibraltar doesn't work at all.
Both Italies are identical. There is no point trying to figure out which of the two corresponds to our Italy and which is the copy any more than there is in trying to figure out which of your fingers came first. Both Italies have always been there. To the inhabitants of this world, the concept of a single Italy is as odd as binary Italies is to us.
They say ogni italiano ha un gemello. Every few years on some special occasion or holiday, a science foundation from one of the Italies will announce they have discovered a way to determine who is the original and who is the twin. Everyone smiles and laughs at the scientists' little joke every time, for the humor of the scientists is like that of a small child - earnest and innocent.
Neither Italy has been to war in over a hundred years. Everyone is too busy fishing or cooking or playing dominos or such. No nation has even considered invading or attacking for to disturb the peace of the Italies would be uncouth and shameful. This pax italiana has spread to the entirety of Europe and the Mediterranean coast. To the same end, the nations of the world have all agreed to limit recreational travel to the Italies, lest they overwhelm the people.
Do not be mad at our lonesome Italy for not being the sanctuary that the two Italies are. To do so would be like being mad at your brother for not having wings with which to carry you to school, which is petulant and selfish. We should not be mad at Italy for not being two Italies, but rather comfort her in her grim knowledge of what she cannot be.
The Brickwork Plaza
Henry leans against the doorframe of an old barn. He reads a catalog of pornographic toys and sex paraphernalia. Two men drive up with a tractor and ask Henry to leave the doorway so they can get in. The two men operate a garage out of the barn. Henry moves on.
He runs into Julie, who has a picnic basket. They walk down the street towards the downtown plaza together. They pass a church that bustles with people getting ready for a charity brunch the next day. A group of elderly men block the sidewalk; one of them has a monstrous beard. Julie steps out into the street to pass them. Henry squeezes between a fence and a short post. His checkbook and thumb-drive fall out of his pocket. The checkbook falls in a puddle and many of the checks are ruined. Henry and Julie collect the remains of the checkbook and the intact thumb-drive.
A large woman who can barely support herself from age or ruination approaches them from the bustling church. She leans heavily on Julie and hands Henry the largest shard of the thumb-drive's shattered case. She expects Henry and Julie to volunteer at the charity brunch in return. She tells them to get a good night's sleep and be at the church for nine.
The plaza is a number of hexagons that flow into one another. It occupies the side of a hill and the brick paving isn't very good. Henry and Julie wander from one area to another. Henry wonders why he doesn't spend more time at the plaza. Some friends visited Henry recently and he regrets not bringing them here.
Julie busies herself with the picnic basket amongst some flower beds. Henry listens to a street preacher who refuses to give his true name. He tells Henry to call him Malik. Malik was once the subject of a commemorative stamp issued by the town post office. The image did not look at all like Malik; it was vaguely and inaccurately racist. Malik enters a church that opens onto the plaza. It is a very fashionable church.
A group of schoolchildren led by a chaperone come around the corner. The lights in the fashionable church turn on. Malik comes out of the church and Henry invites him to join the picnic. One of the schoolchildren recognizes Malik and they have a short conversation. The schoolchildren move on. Henry has a vision of demons against the crest of a wave. They all sit down to eat hamburgers amongst the flowers.
In the World With Two Italies
In the World With Two Italies there are, of course, two Italies. They jut side-by-side into the Mediterranean. The rest of Europe stretches appropriately to accommodate the extra border length as compared to our Europe. The Strait of Gibraltar doesn't work at all.
Both Italies are identical. There is no point trying to figure out which of the two corresponds to our Italy and which is the copy any more than there is in trying to figure out which of your fingers came first. Both Italies have always been there. To the inhabitants of this world, the concept of a single Italy is as odd as binary Italies is to us.
They say ogni italiano ha un gemello. Every few years on some special occasion or holiday, a science foundation from one of the Italies will announce they have discovered a way to determine who is the original and who is the twin. Everyone smiles and laughs at the scientists' little joke every time, for the humor of the scientists is like that of a small child - earnest and innocent.
Neither Italy has been to war in over a hundred years. Everyone is too busy fishing or cooking or playing dominos or such. No nation has even considered invading or attacking for to disturb the peace of the Italies would be uncouth and shameful. This pax italiana has spread to the entirety of Europe and the Mediterranean coast. To the same end, the nations of the world have all agreed to limit recreational travel to the Italies, lest they overwhelm the people.
Do not be mad at our lonesome Italy for not being the sanctuary that the two Italies are. To do so would be like being mad at your brother for not having wings with which to carry you to school, which is petulant and selfish. We should not be mad at Italy for not being two Italies, but rather comfort her in her grim knowledge of what she cannot be.