Have you ever thought about what fiction is? Probably, such a question may seem surprising: and so everything is clear. Every person throughout his life has to repeatedly create the works he needs for specific purposes - statements, autobiographies, dictations - using not gypsum or clay, not musical notes, not paints, but just a word. At the same time, almost every person will be very surprised if he is told that he thereby created a work of fiction, which is very different from visual art, music and sculpture making. However, everyone understands that a student's essay or dictation is fundamentally different from novels, short stories, news that are created by professional writers. In the works of professionals there is the most important difference - excogitation. But, oddly enough, in a school literature course, you don’t realize the full power of fiction. So using our website in your free time discover fiction for yourself. Life by Elda Armourdrien (best autobiographies to read txt) 📖
- Author: Elda Armourdrien
Book online «Life by Elda Armourdrien (best autobiographies to read txt) 📖». Author Elda Armourdrien
“Modern Damage”
The sun beats on my reddened scalp. Water scrapes my hairy legs. Grunting, panting, I scoop at the black mess. My basketball shorts are covered in slime. My gray t-shirt is no better. My toes dig into the sand, brace for the inevitable.
One scoop. Two scoops. Three scoops. Oh shit!
My arm brushes my scrubby beard. My head finds the seabed. Floating above me, floating away from me, is the black silhouette of my bucket. Bit by bit, oozing bits of crud joins its neighbors.
I flip over, sand swirling around me, and resurface.
Again
, I think to myself.
“A Simple Picture”
A gentle breeze rustled through the fog. The sun crept through scattered, green leaves. The shadows fell haphazardly to the stones and twigs of the earthy floor. Birds—Chickadees, Cardinals, Buntings—create a simple melody in the forest. Drilling like the sound of a gentle summer thundercloud, Redbellies, Downies, and Palliates hid their fiery reds. A gust of warm, moist air brought the sweet scent of honeysuckle and moss.
The wooden rocker squeaked in the breeze. Silver wind chimes beckoned for action. I lowered the coffee cup, the ceramic clicking dully on the wooden armrest, and stepped out to meet the day.
“The Present”
Scissors?
Nah, teeth’re fine…
You sure it’ll fit?
Ca’mon… Ah, see, teeth work.
I don’t think it’s going to fit.
You worry too much.
The box is bending.
You need new glasses.
The ribbon is tearing…
It’s at least a quarter of an inch thick!
Yeah, and ripping.
You want to do it? It’s your idea, anyway.
Hey, I suggested the sweater. You bought the 3-D monster.
Tape?
Scotch?
No, real tape.
Okay… Here you go.
See! A little duct tape, and all’s well.
Uh huh… Well I’m
taking it to the post office.
She’s all yours…if you can catch!
Publication Date: 08-21-2010
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