In the Winter 09 issue of the MFA newsletter, readers were challenged to write a mini-story in exactly 100 words without repeating a single word. Congratulations to Lindenwood faculty member Charlene Engleking for conquering this challenge! Her winning submission appears below and will appear in the Spring 09 newsletter (which will be distributed mid-May).
Feel free to continue trying to tackle this challenge by adding your own mini-story in the comments sections for this post.
By Charlene Engleking:
In creaking rocking chairs six porch dwellers watch the sun set on another day without visitors. Floorboards answer every dip and return, each sigh; this chorus of complaining joints, sensible shoes, furniture, planking. They remember childhood, but have forgotten today. Most recognize kindergarten classmates' pictures eight decades past, can recite state capitols, Old Testament books Genesis to Proverbs, yet neighbors' names sift through arthritic fingers, lost. Life may be easier without parental memories. No children's snub can damage reality. Moon rises, television noise beckons. Maybe Ed Sullivan, Johnny Carson, perhaps only bedtime. Tomorrow--sunrise: more rhythmic waiting, sitting, remembering, forgetting.