Today in Writers’ Club, we listened to three songs from a diverse range of genres–classical, obscenely gangster rap, and lastly, Icelandic–while writing short stories that had to revolve around three characters: Job, Trixie, and Lola. The goal was not to create something extremely refined, but simply be inspired by the mood that music creates. Below are the two stories I wrote; the first contains both Job and Trixie, and the second contains Lola.

by Angela Guo

A very young baby girl named Lola stared at the circle of plastic toys spinning above her face. Among the objects in the circle were a rubber duck, a miniature beach ball, and a Barbie-sized clown. Laying peacefully in her crib, Lola studied the toy clown.

The painted red smile on the clown’s face began to turn downward. Lola’s mouth followed this movement. Lola opened her mouth, which was still missing quite a few teeth. All of a sudden, the clown fell off the circle, landing into Lola’s open mouth. Lola was paralyzed with fear, too surprised and too young to think of pulling the toy clown from her mouth.

Lola’s screams for help were muffled by the cotton clown. It sank deeper and deeper, until it successfully obstructed her throat.

She couldn’t breathe.

Lola continued her attempts to scream, tears of fear running into her hair as the clown continued to obstruct not only her voice but also her airway. She thrashed her limbs around the crib.

Kicking. Screaming.

Soon, there was once again peace and silence in Lola’s crib.

———————————————

Job sat by the window, glancing at the willow tree weeping quietly outside.

A stream of air breezed by.

Job reunited with the willow. Suddenly, they were caught up in a wind storm. The willow’s thin strands wrapped around Job, first caressing his face, then his neck. What started as a gentle caress became a strangle, and Job couldn’t escape. The willow released her grip on Job as she saw Trixie approaching from a distance.

Trixie’s thick, long dreads were the envy of the willow’s fragile but angry strands.

Trixie sprinted to where Job was standing by the willow tree.

“You okay, Job?”

Job was grateful for Trixie’s attention. He coughed for air, and as he opened his mouth to answer, the willow’s curtain of strings wrapped around his neck once again.

The wind hissed at Trixie, who retreated to the safety of the Redwoods nearby.