50 Out of 50: Fifty One-Hundred Word Stories
By
Jordan Greene
* * * * *
PUBLISHED BY:
50 Out of 50: Fifty One-Hundred Word Stories
Copyright © 2015 by Jordan K. Shelton-Greene
Table of Contents
Nature
Day by Day
Life As Me
The Seasons
Around The World
Literature
Nature
Shafts of Light
Silence fills the dark green valley. The sun has not yet broken through the canopy of pine trees, leaving the leaf strewn forest floor enveloped in a dim light. I can hear, far off in the distance, the cawing of crows far above my head. The spitting of the fire draws my attention, and I'm pulled into its hypnotizing gaze. It seems like only moments like that I'm able to pull myself away. The sun has broken through, and my eyes are refreshed as they drink in natural light.
***
Half-Dome
From atop the mountain I see the wealth of the world stretched out before me. For miles I can see the valley's many lakes strewn like diamonds amid the emerald treetops. The sun in his brilliance shines, proclaiming his dominion over the sky. His splendor is so bright that I am forced to bow my head and avert my eyes in reverence. The mountain's twin is before me, the sheer drop of her face that of a weeping sister pining for her other half. But her elder sister stands tall, so that I feel I could touch the infinite dome of the sky.
***
The Temple
I find myself in a forest glade, the golden beams of light streaming through trees like the windows of a cathedral. The wind and the birds are it's choir, the squirrels and dear it's congregation. A great redwood towers above all the other trees, acting as the pulpit. God is my preacher, speaking to me loudly out of the silence. He made this; all that dazzles my eyes He spoke with a word. What could He created in me. I quietly remove my shoes, for I am on holy ground.
***
El Mar
The waves lap gently against her feet, while their parents break harder further out to sea. The salt wind wipes her hair wildly about her face, but she doesn’t mind. She feels free, she feels liberated. She can taste the wind with her tongue and smell the sea, taking in deep drafts of open air. The blue of the sky is like cotton candy against the harder azure of the water, for she is his reflection. The white caps break like rows of teeth forming a smile upon the surface of the deep, and she smiles back.
***
Gaia
If you ever get the chance to do a spacewalk, I suggest you take a good long look at the dust speck on which we live. From up there you can see the continents and oceans as if they were on your middle school globe. You can see what parts are desert and which are grassland; arctic peaks can be distinguished from humid rainforests. The world looks like you could reach out and hold it in the palm of your hand. Like you could squeeze it like a fruit...it make you think about how fragile she really is.
Day By Day
The Good Book
The young man sits in his father's arm chair, pouring over the contents of an old book. He takes great care in turning the thin, yellow pages, warn with age and frail as leaves. He hardly dares to breathe, lest his breath blow the letters away. Some words in the book he doesn’t understand, others he does. A lot of the stories and poems are far, far above his head. Some things he does get, however, and is filled with a happiness that is greater than his confusion. He comes to his favorite story: John 3:16.
***
Boba Tea
They know me well at Panda Express. I'm there almost every day and my order is always the same: large Panda Oolong with boba. As I step up to the tea bar, they young girl working behind the counter turns around as smiles. She's cute, and I smile in an attempt to seem more confident than I feel. I watch her as she moves back and forth between the stations with a practiced grace and ease. She hands me the tea with a wink, and as I sip it, I notice there are a few extra balls of boba.
***
The Text
She reached for her phone as it vibrated, glancing down for a moment and trying to read the message, tears blurring her vision. She'd been crying since she left the house. She had fought hard to hold the tears back while her mother was yelling at her; while her father sat and watched TV, pretending not to hear. She had almost lost it when her mother had brought up her recent breakup, how if she had tried harder he would have stayed. Now she didn’t even see the text as the other car slammed into hers: “I’m sorry".
***
The Bridge
We stand at opposite sides of a bridge spanning a wide gulf. There is no way around it, nor over it, nor under it; only across. The bridge is an old bridge, rickety and supported by rotting rope. Below there are nothing but clouds; a nebulous void, so that one cannot tell the depth of the canyon below. The slightest breath of wind blows and the whole bridge rocks and shake. Only someone who had completely lost all reason would venture to cross this treacherous way. Only a fool would cross...I take the first step.
***
The Writer
A letter here, a word there, a paragraph elsewhere. The incessant sound of the clicking keys on the typewriter would drive a lesser man crazy. But it is music to the writer’s ears. Each click is the sound of an idea, the sound of a characters footsteps, the sound of metal clashing against metal in a duel to the death. Maidens to save, dragons to fight, battles to be won. He is so close to the page that his nose almost gets caught in the ribbon. A whole world is being born to the sound of click, click, click!
***
Hard of Hearing
She does her best to listen, holding the phone close to her ear like a conch and straining to listen to the ocean of information coming through. There was a time (she could faintly remember) when her grandson could hardly form words. Now, at age 4, he can't stop talking. She smiles as he weaves tales of numbers and letters, toys and contraptions, and where and to he is going. She knows that he will be where she is one day, chair bond and hard of hearing. She feebly wipes away a tear.
***
The Parlor
Buuuuuzzzzzzzzzz! The sound of the needle moving at 3,000 rpm fills the room. Hung on the walls are dozens of pictures, some elaborate, others with a sophisticated simplicity. The space is full of people; some ink veterans, covered from head to toe, others waiting for their first taste of the brush. Those who have had this done before sit quietly, almost bored, having been waiting for the longest time to try and fill in what space is left of their bodies. Others sit nervously, not sure of their decision. Either way, that decision is for life. Buuuuuzzzzzzzzzz!
***
Nightlife
The stars shine high above my head, but the lights on the buildings shine much closer. The glass reflects the light so that the buildings shine like giant Christmas presents in August. As we walk hand in hand together, I notice the rosiness of her cheeks, and I can't tell if she is blushing or just cold. I lean in and kiss her cheek, feeling how frosty cold it is. She's squeezes my hand a little tighter, attempting to hide her face in her scarf. I smile, listening to the corner jazz player serenades us.
***
Waiting for the Bus
The little boy sits and waits for the school bus, bright and yellow, to carry him off to school. But to him, it isn't a bus. It is a golden dragon, carrying dozens of knights clad in shining armor. There is a great tournament, and only the strongest, bravest, smartest warriors may enter. He now waits on this steed to carry him away as well, so that he might compete for the hand of the maiden that waits for
him at the castle. He smiles, because no one else knows what he can see.
***
Road Trip
The young man stared out the window of the car while his mother silently drove. the landscape was passing by quickly and slowing at the same time, and all the states begin to blend together. The lights of California blend into the deserts of Nevada, and Mexico and Arizona become one big adobe mesa range. Day and night are the same, as they drive with a full trunk and full hearts. She is taking him to his future, and the expense of becoming his past. He turns to her and takes her hand. That will never happen.
***
The Shredder
She shreds the pictures one by one. Photos once whole are cut into thin ribbons. She has already gone through an entire scrapbook, and is working her way through a second. As she is about to put another into the machine, she stops. Holding it to the dim light, she is able to make out the scene: he and her ice skating in Central Park. The snow is falling and they are both laughing as he helps her up after a fall. She remembers the laughter would always come before the shouting. She quickly pushes the picture into the basket, another memory gone.
***
The Feast
The smell wafting through the kitchen was enough to make the mouth water. The turkey was just ready to come out of the oven, and all around there was hustle and bustle to prepare the table for its arrival. Plates and silverware had been set, napkins placed in their ornate rings. Upstairs one could hear the romp that the youngers ones were having, while those who were more advanced in years sat and talked about days gone past. There was a sudden ding! and the house went silent. The bird was cooked. The feast could begin.
***
Happiest Place on Earth
The little girl sat patiently, waiting for the crowds of people to file by. This was the busiest time of the year of the world famous theme park, and if was often not handicap friendly. She wished she wasn’t bound to a wheelchair. She wanted to be like the other kids she saw; running up to rides with their parents a few steps behind them. Finally, the attendant opened the gate that allowed her to go through into the park. Almost immediately, Prince Charming and Snow White were there to meet her, telling that they were honored to meet such a beautiful princess.
***
The Date
He stood leaning against the light pole, checking his watch every few seconds. The big hand was getting close to noon. That when she said she would be there. He looked up and down the street and saw all the other couples who were enjoying the evening. Some walked hand in hand, others wrapped in each other's arms. Some men even went the extra mile and carried their significant others on their backs, laughing as they did. he looked down at his watch again: ten past twelve. When he looked up and saw her walking towards him, he decided it was worth the wait.
Life As Me
The Mountain
The boy skipped along, always a few steps ahead of his father. Every so often, he would stop at a nearby tree or boulder and wait, egging his father to walk faster, lest they miss something. As they walk, his father would tell him fantastical stories of how he and Disney friends would help guard the secret formula to Froot Loops from the clutches of the evil Dragon Lady. Every so often, the boy would run and jump off a rock, slashing the air with his invisible sword. His father just smiled, watching as his son climb this hills he thought were mountains.
***
Boulevard of Palms
As I walk down the streets of Beverly Hills, I look up at the palm trees as they attempt to tickle the sky. They line both sides of the street, their wide frons swaying this way and that like giant paint brushes. They add a splash of color to the baby blue ceiling, standing as centuries guarding the homes of our modern day deities. They know their true master, though. They point to Him. The waving branches long once again to be wave as a welcome for their King as people shout " Hosanna, Hosanna!"
***
The Photo Wheel
For the first seven years, my school pictures were all the same: white shirt with a different colored sweater. When I hit seventh grade, I was given a little bit more freedom as of what to wear. I ran into a pudgy stage in middle school, probably because my body refused to grow. By the time I reached high-school, I was thin and lanky, but I grew into it. At the end, my smile is a proud one, holding a diploma. And it all started with a shy, kindergarten smile.
***
Sand Mountain
I ran top speed towards the giant dune that loomed ahead. My classmates lagged behind by a mile. I knew that I was going to win. First to the top, that’s what it was about: winning. I had always been a loser, the last to be chosen, the last in line. Finally I had a chance to be the winner. I hit the base running, and before I knew it I was half way up. I turned around to see how close everyone was...and then I saw you. You looked at me with eyes that said you didn’t think you could make it. I slowed down, letting others pass. With you, I had already won.
The Butterfly
Fifth grade: 5"4, 130 lbs. The other kids would always laugh at him, because he was chunky and liked to eat good food. He spent most of his lunches alone, hiding away in the corner so that he could enjoy his meal without reproach. He was still growing, his mother always said, and he needed to eat to be strong and healthy. He falls asleep at night and dreams wonderful dreams: dreams where he is able to eat anything he wants and still be beautiful. He wakes up and the sun is warm. 6", 180 lbs of muscle. The butterfly spreads its wings.
***
The Theater
The show was sold out. Every seat had been filled. The viewers shuffled and shimmied into their seats, all itching for the best view. Some stood in the hall, talking about how excited they were for the play to begin. They talked about how the lead role was their favorite, and they had seen His work before. They had high hopes for Him, though they heard that the supporting cast was less than perfect. The lights dimmed, the curtains drew back. All eyes were on the stage. The play began; Earth.
***
Coffee Shop
The shop is filled with the smell of fresh grounds as I smile between sips of black coffee. It has been almost three years since were embarked on our epic journey together; a journey that cause us all to go our separate ways. Now we sat together laughing and joking about the simple things: school, work, dating. But mostly we talk about the places we had been, thing things we had seen. At the moment however, I was happy to be right here, right now. The coffee is bitter, just how I like it, but the laughter is sweet.
***
Noel
As the snowflakes fall gently on my eyelashes, I think back to that lonely Bethlehem hillside 2000 years ago when a small group of shepherds heard the first Christmas carol. Like most carolers, the angels showed up unexpectedly, and the recipients of the carol were surprised. Unlike most carols, however, the songs were not about lights or Jolly Ol' St. Nicholas, nor about flying reindeer with red noses. As I look up at the shining stars, I imagine each as an angel singing at the top of their voice, proclaiming the birth of salvation.
***
The Bookshelf
She stood on the floor, looking up and the mountain of knowledge before her. The whole wall was lined from carpet to ceiling with books of all shapes, sizes, colors, bindings, and genres. She didn’t know where to begin. Should she start with history or fiction? Tragedy or comedy? Suspense or mystery? The list went on and on. She couldn’t make up her mind; so many worlds to discover, places to go, things to see. Universes were open to her on a 5x7 shelf
***
Old Bones
They tell me that there are dragons buried beneath the very soil we walk on. Millions of years ago they came from nothing, and after reigning for a millennium they all died out together. And now their bones are on display for all to see; stolen from their resting place so that children could dream them up with flesh and bone. Is that really how it was? Did these giant reptiles die due to some fateful turn of the sun? Or was it that God, in His infinite wisd
om, knew that man could not live side by side with monsters: he himself was enough.
***
Night Drive
The lights of passing cars were all a blur at 70 mph. His eyes were half closed, sleep fighting to take control of his mind. He reached over and too another swig of his energy drink and slapped his face, trying hard to stay awake. Out of his peripheral he could see his girlfriend breathing quietly in the passenger's seat. Her mouth was slightly open, a small line of drool trailing down the corner of her mouth. He smiled, focusing his eyes on the road with renewed strength. The sight of her was stronger than the drink.