The Adventures of Job, Trixie, and Lola

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.

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A Long Setup

By Declan Quinn.  For the “the two stood face to face” prompt.

 

The two stood face to face, frozen in their little moment in time.  There they stood, a sharp outcrop of black against the bleak white backdrop.  It was like standing in a white room, except that the walls, floor, and ceiling didn’t exist.  Nothing existed, except for the two, standing against the passing of time, the infinite of space, confined to their own little corner of their own universe.

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Evil

by Natalie Rich

Thousands of years ago, long before Dante became inspired the Divine Comedy, another living human travelled down to Hell.  Unlike Dante, this man was but a child, only eight years into his life.  The young child was elfen in appearance, with bright red hair and ears that tapered into points.  Scarlet freckles speckled his face, and devilish mischief shone from his startling emerald eyes.  The rumor in the village was that his father had been the Devil himself.  One day, while walking in the woods, the boy was drawn to a peculiar circle of trees.  Directly in the middle of the circle was a decrepit stump.  The young lad stepped cautiously into the circle and towards the stump.  As he neared it, a sense of dread filled his soul, but the child had never been afraid, thanks to his mother’s whispers about his true patronage.  Curiously, the boy laid his hand on the moribund stump, pushing his hand through the moldy, soft wood.  All of a sudden something grabbed his wrist, yanking the child down to whatever horrors lay below.  Continue reading

Window Seats

by Alan Osmundson

The landscape passed him in an incomprehensible blur. It fascinated him, how if he focused his eyes in a certain manner, he could tell what he was passing, and how if not, it all merged into a single swath of colors.

His fixation was broken as the train passed over a stone lying on the track, causing a mild but noticeable jolt. As he tore his gaze from the window he saw a woman sitting across him whom he had not noticed before. Her eyes pointed down into a book that appeared to be a fantasy novel. He observed her for some time as she read, an occasional smile rising to her lips, a subtle smile that wasn’t distracting, but just nice enough to brighten anyone’s day.

Then, as if by some act of extra-sensory perception, she looked up at him as he stared back and gave him that same smile, as well as an inaudible laugh. He attempted to reciprocate, but was unable to muster more than an unsightly grimace before she became absorbed by her book once more.

Disappointed, he turned back to the window and let the colors pass by again.

After some time, her voice tore his eyes from the window.

“Where are you headed towards?” Continue reading