Extreme Writing Challenge #1: “Bliss”

The first challenge I gave myself was to write a story consisting solely of one-syllable words and, at the same time, using zero “e”s.  This is what I came up with:

———-

I sit at a bus stop with a sack of books in my lap.  A bus pulls up and I climb in.  An old man winks as I pass him and I look down, find a spot to sit.  I scan part of a book, a book on war, as a young man and his son board.  This small boy naps and his dad runs his hands through his child’s hair.  I watch.  I wait.  I don’t think, just watch.

At my stop, Roth Road, I go to Gil’s Bar.  I inch down my skirt as I walk in.  I think of what I will say, how I will say it.  How I will, at last, put a stop to it all.

Mitch sits on a bar stool, swigs from a mug of Coors.  I walk up to him but I don’t sit.  I ask for a shot of rum but I don’t drink it.  I will wait; I’ll drink it as Mitch walks out for good.

Mitch says, “So what’s up?  Do you know what you want?”  His mouth turns down in a frown.

I do know what I want, but it’s hard to say it.  Mitch was my man for so long.  It hurts to know I will walk out of Gil’s with just my sack of books.  That I will go to my mom’s and stay in my old room.  That I will hand my ring to Mitch and say, “You can’t fix things.”  I won’t cry, but I will hurt.

Mitch drains his Coors, asks for a shot.  A shot of rum.  Asks if I want to toast.

“To what?” I ask.

“To us.”

“Why?”

“Why not?”

My gut churns as Mitch holds up his shot glass with such faith in us.

“Mitch,” I gulp, “I can’t.  You and I can’t.”

Mitch picks up a book from my sack.  Bad Days.  This is a bad day.  Mitch knows it now.

I don’t mind that Mitch throws my book at a wall.  I’m just glad to watch him go.   I gulp down my shot, and his too.

On my own.  Bliss.  At last.

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3 responses to “Extreme Writing Challenge #1: “Bliss”

  1. nicely done, I doubt I could do it. 🙂

  2. That is too funny. I don’t think I could pull this off, especially with no ‘e’s.

  3. Wow. In a good way. You need therapy, though.

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