Creative Writing Assignment 1
Write a story about someone telling a story. Put in as much dialogue as possible.
[Feel free to give criticism. Or just tell me what you think. It's not going to be graded. This is a semi-true story. I suffered heavy injuries to my eyes on my (older) brother's birthday and everyone was too busy with his party to notice.]
“ . . . Tell me about yourself.”
He glanced up from his coffee, an amused expression on his face. “What? Is this an interview? Shouldn’t you have done this on the first date?”
Her cool eyes steadily gazed into his as she shrugged. “Didn’t think you would keep. But that might change. William Keene. Grad student. Psychology. Everything I know about you could be recited off your resume.”
“Uh-huh.” He raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair as he smiled. “Well. What is it you want to know? William Keene. Grad student. Psych. Twenty three years old, 5’ 11’’, 143 lbs. My favorite color’s blue, my favorite food is . . . anything cheap, I suppose. What else . . . ? I’ve got this terrible habit of leaving the toilet seat up. And I actually don’t like long walks on the beach; it’s an awful pain to get all the sand out of your shoes and until then, you’re stuck itching all - ”
“ - Will. That’s not what I meant. Tell me something exciting. Something interesting. And personal. Tell me a story.”
“Once upon a ti - “
“ - I’m serious.”
She was. There wasn’t even a hint of a smile. He was struck with a sudden familiar feeling in the pit of his gut, like someone had just asked him for the summation of a Taylor series or perhaps the amplitude of magnetic flux between two conducting rods. In other words, he hadn’t a clue what she wanted.
“ . . . Ah. Something exciting . . . And interesting. And personal. Hm. Something . . . Ah! I’ve got it. What do you think of this? At the tender age of seven, William Keene nearly expired from this world.”
“It’d make for a good headline. Keep going.”
“It was my younger brother’s birthday. I hated him. Everyone does when they’re seven. I was convinced that the Martians had managed to swap out my real brother for an alien creature that did nothing but scream, cry, and defecate all over the place. My parents, poor souls, were completely fooled. They adored him. They decided it would be an excellent idea to celebrate by having not just one screaming toddler to deal with, but six. The more the merrier, they said. Screw that, I said, and I decided it would be a good idea to spend the day up in my tree.”
“Your tree?”
“My tree. We owned a good deal of property; there was a huge field in the backyard with a small copse of trees. They were exotic. Hemlock. I didn’t ever build a treehouse, but I’d often lay back in the branches, idling away the time and watching the clouds go by.”
“You’d be the type. And this was your life-threatening situation?”
“No. The life-threatening situation was when I promptly fell asleep, rolled over, toppled twenty feet, and hit the ground. Face-first. I ended up with a concussion, two broken ribs, and a broken arm. They said later that if the leaves hadn’t cushioned my fall, I may very well have died.”
At this, her expression suddenly changed. “ . . . And when did they find you?”
“Can you believe it? The little monster ended up saving my life. He’d just seen that show - The one where people get hurt, and then we all laugh at them for being idiots. There’s always a kid with a piñata who ends up smashing the family jewels by accident, so of course, he just had to have one for his birthday. Half an hour after I fell, they all trooped out to hang up the piñata and smash it open. They found me with my head smashed open instead.”
“Hm! You know, that explains a lot. I should’ve guessed that you were dropped on your head as a kid.”
“It was nothing. I was up and about within a week. After I got my cast off, I remember being severely disappointed that everything was all back to normal. It was a great deal of fun being the center of attention for a month.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“So? What do you think? Was that exciting enough for you?”
“ . . . What do I think? I think you’re a liar.”
“Oh?
“Hemlock trees are coniferous. They don’t drop leaves.”
“ . . . Tch. Are they really? It’s always the details that get me."
She stood, swinging her purse over her shoulder and pushing in her chair. Though her gaze was directed off to the side, it wasn’t enough to disguise the wide smile that had stolen onto her face.
“Don’t worry too much about it. I think I’ll keep you anyway.”
[Feel free to give criticism. Or just tell me what you think. It's not going to be graded. This is a semi-true story. I suffered heavy injuries to my eyes on my (older) brother's birthday and everyone was too busy with his party to notice.]
“ . . . Tell me about yourself.”
He glanced up from his coffee, an amused expression on his face. “What? Is this an interview? Shouldn’t you have done this on the first date?”
Her cool eyes steadily gazed into his as she shrugged. “Didn’t think you would keep. But that might change. William Keene. Grad student. Psychology. Everything I know about you could be recited off your resume.”
“Uh-huh.” He raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair as he smiled. “Well. What is it you want to know? William Keene. Grad student. Psych. Twenty three years old, 5’ 11’’, 143 lbs. My favorite color’s blue, my favorite food is . . . anything cheap, I suppose. What else . . . ? I’ve got this terrible habit of leaving the toilet seat up. And I actually don’t like long walks on the beach; it’s an awful pain to get all the sand out of your shoes and until then, you’re stuck itching all - ”
“ - Will. That’s not what I meant. Tell me something exciting. Something interesting. And personal. Tell me a story.”
“Once upon a ti - “
“ - I’m serious.”
She was. There wasn’t even a hint of a smile. He was struck with a sudden familiar feeling in the pit of his gut, like someone had just asked him for the summation of a Taylor series or perhaps the amplitude of magnetic flux between two conducting rods. In other words, he hadn’t a clue what she wanted.
“ . . . Ah. Something exciting . . . And interesting. And personal. Hm. Something . . . Ah! I’ve got it. What do you think of this? At the tender age of seven, William Keene nearly expired from this world.”
“It’d make for a good headline. Keep going.”
“It was my younger brother’s birthday. I hated him. Everyone does when they’re seven. I was convinced that the Martians had managed to swap out my real brother for an alien creature that did nothing but scream, cry, and defecate all over the place. My parents, poor souls, were completely fooled. They adored him. They decided it would be an excellent idea to celebrate by having not just one screaming toddler to deal with, but six. The more the merrier, they said. Screw that, I said, and I decided it would be a good idea to spend the day up in my tree.”
“Your tree?”
“My tree. We owned a good deal of property; there was a huge field in the backyard with a small copse of trees. They were exotic. Hemlock. I didn’t ever build a treehouse, but I’d often lay back in the branches, idling away the time and watching the clouds go by.”
“You’d be the type. And this was your life-threatening situation?”
“No. The life-threatening situation was when I promptly fell asleep, rolled over, toppled twenty feet, and hit the ground. Face-first. I ended up with a concussion, two broken ribs, and a broken arm. They said later that if the leaves hadn’t cushioned my fall, I may very well have died.”
At this, her expression suddenly changed. “ . . . And when did they find you?”
“Can you believe it? The little monster ended up saving my life. He’d just seen that show - The one where people get hurt, and then we all laugh at them for being idiots. There’s always a kid with a piñata who ends up smashing the family jewels by accident, so of course, he just had to have one for his birthday. Half an hour after I fell, they all trooped out to hang up the piñata and smash it open. They found me with my head smashed open instead.”
“Hm! You know, that explains a lot. I should’ve guessed that you were dropped on your head as a kid.”
“It was nothing. I was up and about within a week. After I got my cast off, I remember being severely disappointed that everything was all back to normal. It was a great deal of fun being the center of attention for a month.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“So? What do you think? Was that exciting enough for you?”
“ . . . What do I think? I think you’re a liar.”
“Oh?
“Hemlock trees are coniferous. They don’t drop leaves.”
“ . . . Tch. Are they really? It’s always the details that get me."
She stood, swinging her purse over her shoulder and pushing in her chair. Though her gaze was directed off to the side, it wasn’t enough to disguise the wide smile that had stolen onto her face.
“Don’t worry too much about it. I think I’ll keep you anyway.”