The Storm

A series of conversations between two men in a dying world.

how long have you been here?
-where?
on the road.
-that depends.
on what?
-what year is it?
a late year.
-then a long time.
a long time.
-yes.
and your child, how old is he?
-i think he is six, I'm not sure. my watch doesn't work.
take mine.
-i couldn't.
take it. there's a spare battery in the bag, somewhere in there.
-you don't need it?
not where I'm going.
-and where are you going?
home.

 

-is that why you have the gun?
it is.
-you're gonna do it.
yes.
-may I...
may you what?
-may I have it...when you're done?
it won't be any use to me.
-so yes?
yes.

 

-a bird.
where?
-on that branch.
where? i can't see.
-look closely, it's resting on the end. it's covered in ash.
oh my lord.
-i know.
i haven't seen one in years.
-me neither.
it's beautiful.
-it is.
it's beautiful.

 

-what do you taste?
i taste peaches.
-peaches?
peaches. red wine. a hint of autumn.
-divine.
and you?
-what do i taste?
what do you taste?
-i taste charlette's cooking. the cold lemonade she brought out to me and samuel the years before the storms began.

 

your son is far out.
-he knows how far he can go.
and the string around his waist?
-you can never be too careful.
not with the ones you love.

 

do you miss her?
-who?
your wife?
-of course.
you never cry.
-i care for samuel. i can not let him see me cry.
you're lucky.
-why?
you still have someone to hide your tears from.

 

the storm is coming.
-yes.
just like yesterday.
-yes.
it will kill us one day.
-one day.
it will kill us all.
-maybe, but today is not that day, and I pray it will not come soon.
but I do.
-then you are lost.

 

-are you leaving?
yes.
-where to?
i've already told you.
-is there nothing I can say--
no.
-nothing at all?
no.
-then go.

 

*gunshot*

 

papa?
-yes, samuel?
where is uncle vern?
-he's gone.
gone?
-yes.
where did he go?
-somewhere where he could be free. somewhere where the ash doesn't blow in the wind to choke our lungs. somewhere where the sun shines brightly in our western sky.
where is that, papa?
-home.

Reviews

[Damian Alan Gray]

Not to parrot TJ Timmins, but I was amazed at how well the personalities and the environment came across in this story even though you used no description. This is a good write, but moreover it is an interesting write. Short as it was, it nevertheless left me wondering where and how the story might progress further. It also left me speculating as to what sort of storms may have caused all this death, destruction and hopelessness. Ah, but I suppose a good tale SHOULD leave the reader questioning and using his or her own imagination to fill in the blanks. So, bravo! I also want to offer you some extra kudos for using the word *gunshot* instead of something like *bang*. With this simple wording, like the rest of the story, you do not disregard the reader's intelligence. Again, Bravo! Impressive writing from an impressive mind.

[run vs remember]

That was really unique, very captivating right to the end. You clearly have an amazing gift for dialogue. The scene you set was very powerful...great story!

[Constance]

This is a powerful piece, and I could hear the voices in my mind, clear as day, as I read. You have quite a way with making dialogue feel natural and real here.
I could also imagine the world they lived in, though it isn't described in passages, thanks to the dialogue. This is a captivating, wonderful piece, that needs no support to stand, though it is only a little bit. Marvelous work. Going into my favorites to remind me how dialogue should be written to the utmost.

[T.J. Timmins]

It really struck me as something you'd hear in a Samuel Beckett play, if that means anything to you. Absurdism with great meaning.

The situation, and even characters personalities come across very strongly even though there is no description. There is a clear story and progression through this work, very very nicely done.

[Morgan Storms]

Heavy, man. I enjoyed how you wrote this. I had a very clear picture of the situation. Well written.