A short story is a piece of prose fiction that can be read in one sitting. It is a fiction. It is short. Why not in one sentence or few lines or may be just a paragraph. Isn’t it intriguing to paraphrase the definition of short story? The shorter the merrier and the art lie in trimming not tagging more words to our deeply weighed thoughts. The challenging part is simplifying the complexity of our clouded thoughts.
The stories have to be imaginative.
It is wired in the web of imagination.
“ The cut.”
“ The sweet.”
“ The spot.”
The sweet spot is in the shortest.
It is like doing more with less, showing in expression and not telling in words.
When we write the shortest stories we needn’t have to bother about the rules and by default we break the rules, and the greatest stories have emerged out of the “wounds of breakup not the healing from makeup.” The rules become hurdles not guidelines.
We were told that time and again that short story follows a time revered rule.
We have to limit our story to a time or a place. Short story can be subjected to radical experimentation. It is a more versatile genre than is generally perceived by the storyteller.
Here is a creative attempt to craft stories from my personal experiences, random observations heighten imagination and enabled inspiration in as few curtailed words that you can read when you are merely shifting the position from standing to sitting.
Story (1): It was a beautiful formation of cloud, suddenly there was thunder and lightning. She was shouting nobody could hear her, she could only see everybody disappear under the cloudburst…
Story (2): He could hear the nature’s call, he tried calling back, there was a silence and the phone kept ringing but nobody to respond.
Story (3): In a fit of rage, I flipped the pack of food on the street, moment later as I turned around saw the street urchins happily munching. I just didn’t know whether to regret or rejoice.
Story (4): The little kid came running and hugged the doctor; “my mom”, he didn’t know how to react. God had already come and given the discharged letter to the doctor.
Story (5): I am proud of my father in the army, he fought a valiant battle and I love my country. The very moment entered the compound the army vehicle and she could see the wrapped flag.
Story (6): Standing at the foothills, she pierced at the snow-capped mountain, the summer sun was melting the snow, there was a flood of tears that came down to touch her feet but he refused to forgive for devouring his mountaineering brother.
Story (7): He was extremely upset that there was small cut in the foot, and no fault of his. He cannot wear the new shoe to the evening party; he was returning back from the clinic when his eye fell on the boy who was on the wheelchair, the boy smiled back.
Story (8): She missed the sunrise; she was gazing at the sunset walking along the spotless sea beach. Every time she didn’t like her footprints, she could see the wave was there to wipe it off. She couldn’t do anything to her bad memories that kept coming at her.
Story (9): I dropped the hundred rupee note in the temple chest and felt relieved that I have done my religious duty and emerged out of the temple with pride. I saw the baby badly crying for food in the lap of her mother, I asked myself who needs the note more?
Story (10): I was in a hurry, I yelled at him, he had taken my seat and he was not listening nor was he replying…thank God that I didn’t react. I realized!!!
Story (11): There was life coming and there was life going, the operation was successful but the pregnant patient died.
Story (12): She was missing her mother, and her mother stepped into the house. That made things worse for her, she was her step mother.
Story (13): He jumped from the tall tree, he had a phobia of height and he got up and he was fine, the fear melted in his dream.
Story (14): I made a mistake, I learned. I made a mistake, I didn’t learn. I made a mistake and I’m still learning…that’s life!!!
Story (15): He could never stand near the fire, now he was sleeping on fire and the fire was silently devouring the lifeless body.
There is possibly an intriguing beginning of an interesting new dialogue on the prefix “short”, when a story is a story. The dialogue of how short a short story can be or should be, and by being ridiculously short are we questioning the DNA of how short story to be defined, if the current definition is not challenging enough to confine our creative competency…it needs a redefinition.
The defining dialogue between ingenious minds that is impulsively set on work and this very creative work is an undefined obsession, there is a catch and the catch of creative value that needs to be nurtured with passion and not nudged with obsession.
It has the inherent potential to usher an engagement through the magical meeting of minds.
Only when you put your imaginative lens on these shortest stories, definitely there will be short coming on these short stories. I’m keenly looking forward to hearing those nuanced take in the eyes of your brilliant mind, which are my wonderful sources of inspiration to hold onto these sublime stories in such measured set of limiting words. There is a frantic haunt for having the right set of words.
Then the pertinent question that need a profound answer i.e. which one of the shortest story thought not definitely, but tentatively touched your heart; if it really deed and which are the ones flew completely off track…
These shorten creative exercise which took a bigger toll on my limited thinking, though it has certainly helped me to explore the unexplored territories of my world of imagination; such short stories are nugget of wisdom subtly hidden in the recesses of our little streams of thoughts.
It just needed to be discovered…