I am in short story mode right now. My goal is to write 4 short stories, 5 pages or less, this week. I will try with each one to go shorter and shorter while still clearly providing the 3 essential elements (conflict, climax, resolution).
Clara
It was an average Wednesday in the small town of Beaver. The morning had been cloudy but the rising afternoon temperature had burnt off the cloud cover. Clara Sansford pulled into the parking lot of the gym, ready for an intense kickboxing class. Work had ended early today and Clara couldn’t be more grateful. The Simmons contract was giving her so much grief, she never should have stuck her neck out for the project. Her assistant Nadine had talked her into it, Don Simmons was Nadine’s ex-husband. She had promised that although he was a lousy husband, he was a very smart investor. Clara was suspicious from the start but her naiveté and faith in humanity overrode her suspicions and she had gone ahead and presented the real estate proposal to her boss, Jack Turner. Jack hadn’t been excited but he knew that Clara was responsible and she had a reputation and credibility that had been built on eight years of successful, lucrative business deals.
From the start, the Simmons deal was a money pit. Already Clara’s firm had lost $15,000 in negotiations. She had looked into every avenue available over the last two months to unload this albatross. Her assistant, Nadine, had quit three weeks earlier and had fallen off the radar. No one could find her and Clara was left holding the bag. Don Simmons refused to drop out of the contract, willing to drag Clara’s entire firm down with him and his failed venture. Jack Turner had been on her case to finish this off and make it go away. She knew her career and reputation were on the line but had no idea how she could possibly get out of the hole she had dug. Every waking minute of her days had been filled with stress-- only her gym sessions brought her relief, an escape from the intense drama of her work life.
The kickboxing room was nearly full when Clara arrived--she found a spot near the back which suited her just fine, she didn’t need everyone watching her movements. There was just enough time to stretch out her stiff legs before the instructor blew the whistle. Clara quickly pulled her purple hoodie over her head, threw it to the side of the room and gathered her full mop of chocolate brown hair into a tight pony tail. Yesterday’s time in the tanning bed had left her arms bronzed and warm, she probably shouldn’t have done the full ten minutes. They ached as she stretched them, one at a time over her small chest. A few quick shakes of her head, side to side and hopping from one foot to the other and Clara was beginning to feel her blood warming up, every inch of her anxious to get started. The only good thing that had come from this whole Simmons’ fiasco, was that Clara had been so stressed out, she had ended up at the gym two and even three times each day. She had lost eighteen pounds quickly and was enjoying her newly toned and lean body. If only she had time to show if off. Until things were settled at work, there would be no socializing for her. The only enjoyment she had was in her workouts and the classes were usually made up of women. Someday she would find Mr. Right, just not today.
Right as the instructor entered the room and turned on the stereo, Clara’s phone rang. She looked at the caller id and saw that it was Jack Turner. Her heart rate was increasing before she had even thrown a kick or a punch. This was her time. She was not going to let her work take over this last vestige of refuge in her life. She pushed the end button and sent Jack to voice mail. It could wait.
The class began and Clara gave it all she had. She kicked, she punched, she yelled, she dripped with sweat. Every unpleasant thought that had been plaguing her these last two months was beaten to the ground. Here she felt powerful, strong, and in charge. The music was loud and the energy in the room grew, creating an inferno of body heat. Clara pushed to kick harder than the other women around her. The perspiration dripped from every pore but she wasn’t stopping. Kick, punch, thrust, jump, crouch, kick, punch. The class was reaching its climax, the repetitions getting faster and more intense. Clara was pleased to be able to keep up. She had made so much progress.
Maybe she should be grateful for that dishonest bastard, Don Simmons and his smoke and mirrors business proposition. She hadn’t felt this good since high school track.
The energy of the pack reached a fever pitch, sweating bodies huffing and puffing in unison, determined not to be the first to stop. Clara was just as driven as the rest of them, maybe even more so.
Must not give up. Must not stop! Won’t be first, won’t be first! I own this!
Just as Clara felt her determination starting to give out, the instructor yelled into her microphone from the front of the room, signaling that the torture would now stop. Cool down time had come. They would survive. Clara could hardly catch her breath as she slowed down, watching the bodies around her become disorganized fuzzy shapes. She shook her head, trying to clear the fog. It wouldn’t go. Sudden sharp pains stabbed through her abdomen.
Maybe I pushed too hard. So much pain. Must sit down.
Clara’s body began to sway, not with the rhythm of the cool down music, but instead, with the rhythm of her erratically beating heart. She wrapped her arms around her middle and doubled over, bumping into the woman in front of her.
“What the….?” The woman turned around and grabbed hold of Clara’s forearms.
“Slow down, honey. Let’s get you on the floor.”
The other women around them realized that something was terribly wrong and came to assist. Clara’s face was white and her eyes were glassing over. The pain in her middle was subsiding, her breathing slowed and she began to feel an otherworldly peace settling over her body, completely unaware of the frantic movements around her.
Forty minutes later, Clara was pronounced dead in the Beaver General Hospital Emergency Room. The victim of a massive heart attack, Clara’s life ended at age twenty-nine. An undiagnosed heart defect combined with her crazy stress levels and intense workouts had done her in. The last thought that passed through her mind, as she slid toward the light, was, “At least I don’t have to worry about the contract….”
When her closest friend came to collect her belongings, she noticed that Clara’s cell phone had a missed call with a message. Out of curiosity, she dialed Clara’s voicemail. The message was from Mr. Turner.
“Clara, hi there. Sorry to bug you during your free time. I just thought you should be the first to know that Don Simmons was arrested this morning for insider trading. His arrest gets us out of that rotten deal. We’re free, Clara! Call me back if you have time to celebrate. A bunch of us from the office are going out to Reggie’s for a drink. And hey, no hard feelings about the money we lost. Our insurance has a special loop hole when fraud is involved. They’re going to cover our losses. Thank you for all your hard work kiddo. Talk to you later.”
From the start, the Simmons deal was a money pit. Already Clara’s firm had lost $15,000 in negotiations. She had looked into every avenue available over the last two months to unload this albatross. Her assistant, Nadine, had quit three weeks earlier and had fallen off the radar. No one could find her and Clara was left holding the bag. Don Simmons refused to drop out of the contract, willing to drag Clara’s entire firm down with him and his failed venture. Jack Turner had been on her case to finish this off and make it go away. She knew her career and reputation were on the line but had no idea how she could possibly get out of the hole she had dug. Every waking minute of her days had been filled with stress-- only her gym sessions brought her relief, an escape from the intense drama of her work life.
The kickboxing room was nearly full when Clara arrived--she found a spot near the back which suited her just fine, she didn’t need everyone watching her movements. There was just enough time to stretch out her stiff legs before the instructor blew the whistle. Clara quickly pulled her purple hoodie over her head, threw it to the side of the room and gathered her full mop of chocolate brown hair into a tight pony tail. Yesterday’s time in the tanning bed had left her arms bronzed and warm, she probably shouldn’t have done the full ten minutes. They ached as she stretched them, one at a time over her small chest. A few quick shakes of her head, side to side and hopping from one foot to the other and Clara was beginning to feel her blood warming up, every inch of her anxious to get started. The only good thing that had come from this whole Simmons’ fiasco, was that Clara had been so stressed out, she had ended up at the gym two and even three times each day. She had lost eighteen pounds quickly and was enjoying her newly toned and lean body. If only she had time to show if off. Until things were settled at work, there would be no socializing for her. The only enjoyment she had was in her workouts and the classes were usually made up of women. Someday she would find Mr. Right, just not today.
Right as the instructor entered the room and turned on the stereo, Clara’s phone rang. She looked at the caller id and saw that it was Jack Turner. Her heart rate was increasing before she had even thrown a kick or a punch. This was her time. She was not going to let her work take over this last vestige of refuge in her life. She pushed the end button and sent Jack to voice mail. It could wait.
The class began and Clara gave it all she had. She kicked, she punched, she yelled, she dripped with sweat. Every unpleasant thought that had been plaguing her these last two months was beaten to the ground. Here she felt powerful, strong, and in charge. The music was loud and the energy in the room grew, creating an inferno of body heat. Clara pushed to kick harder than the other women around her. The perspiration dripped from every pore but she wasn’t stopping. Kick, punch, thrust, jump, crouch, kick, punch. The class was reaching its climax, the repetitions getting faster and more intense. Clara was pleased to be able to keep up. She had made so much progress.
Maybe she should be grateful for that dishonest bastard, Don Simmons and his smoke and mirrors business proposition. She hadn’t felt this good since high school track.
The energy of the pack reached a fever pitch, sweating bodies huffing and puffing in unison, determined not to be the first to stop. Clara was just as driven as the rest of them, maybe even more so.
Must not give up. Must not stop! Won’t be first, won’t be first! I own this!
Just as Clara felt her determination starting to give out, the instructor yelled into her microphone from the front of the room, signaling that the torture would now stop. Cool down time had come. They would survive. Clara could hardly catch her breath as she slowed down, watching the bodies around her become disorganized fuzzy shapes. She shook her head, trying to clear the fog. It wouldn’t go. Sudden sharp pains stabbed through her abdomen.
Maybe I pushed too hard. So much pain. Must sit down.
Clara’s body began to sway, not with the rhythm of the cool down music, but instead, with the rhythm of her erratically beating heart. She wrapped her arms around her middle and doubled over, bumping into the woman in front of her.
“What the….?” The woman turned around and grabbed hold of Clara’s forearms.
“Slow down, honey. Let’s get you on the floor.”
The other women around them realized that something was terribly wrong and came to assist. Clara’s face was white and her eyes were glassing over. The pain in her middle was subsiding, her breathing slowed and she began to feel an otherworldly peace settling over her body, completely unaware of the frantic movements around her.
Forty minutes later, Clara was pronounced dead in the Beaver General Hospital Emergency Room. The victim of a massive heart attack, Clara’s life ended at age twenty-nine. An undiagnosed heart defect combined with her crazy stress levels and intense workouts had done her in. The last thought that passed through her mind, as she slid toward the light, was, “At least I don’t have to worry about the contract….”
When her closest friend came to collect her belongings, she noticed that Clara’s cell phone had a missed call with a message. Out of curiosity, she dialed Clara’s voicemail. The message was from Mr. Turner.
“Clara, hi there. Sorry to bug you during your free time. I just thought you should be the first to know that Don Simmons was arrested this morning for insider trading. His arrest gets us out of that rotten deal. We’re free, Clara! Call me back if you have time to celebrate. A bunch of us from the office are going out to Reggie’s for a drink. And hey, no hard feelings about the money we lost. Our insurance has a special loop hole when fraud is involved. They’re going to cover our losses. Thank you for all your hard work kiddo. Talk to you later.”
No comments:
Post a Comment