Two Sentence Stories

As a young child, my father placed the crayon in my right hand; watched as I transferred it to my left hand; patiently returned the crayon to my right hand. He laughed aloud as I again transferred the crayon to my left hand, realizing that his daughter was a southpaw.

As if by magic, some handsome stranger came up to me asking me out and offering me the job that I have always dreamed of having for a salary that could buy me a house made entirely of shoes!

It was so surreal that I thought I was dreaming – because I was.

She didn’t like going to her neighbor’s house, 3 doors down, because there were no streetlights with the trees casting a frightening shadow under the moon’s light, and it was always deathly silent on their street, but they had asked her to feed their cats while they were gone for two days, so with trepidation she approached the door, only to hear a sudden, terrifyingly, booming roar, followed by vicious growling, a man’s commanding voice, and bright lights flashing in the bedroom.

After she recovered from her shock, and still clutching her chest where her heart would be if it hadn’t fallen down to her stomach, she remembered that they leave Animal Planet on the television for their cats!

Sonya sat there with her filthy face and greasy gray hair, cloaked in a tattered coat, with her grocery cart full of her only worldly possessions next to her, while the city walked by her as if she was invisible or too below them to even take notice of her shivering in the cold.

Opening her jacket pocket she pulled a faded 25 year old news clipping in which she stood posing for the photo dressed in a regal gown, hair perfectly coiffed, face shining and she reread the almost invisible headlines with tears in her eyes, ”Nobel Peace Prize Winner Sonya Johanssen”.

He rode off into the night, mittens of soft fog closed around them, momentarily brushing across his face and touching the flanks of the horse as if protecting hands were reaching down from above, pushing them safely along on their journey.

It was fitting somehow that the fierce battle earlier in the night between brave William and faithless Lord Drak, had ended with Drak bleeding on the ground, slain under the bright moon with a sword, which had been guided by an unseen but ever present hand, and the conquering champion William now riding off into a mist enshrouded night, traveling by faith alone through the darkness, unscathed.

Every day she saw the kids, grouped in a suspicious huddle under a pepper tree in the local park,and decided not to call the police.
Her mother’s pain was significantly eased by the hash cakes made from theproduct of the young drug dealers.