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And now our feature....
STORIES!
These stories were birthed from prompts generated by a local writing club.  Every two weeks, one member decides the prompt upon which the stories are to be based.  For the purpose of broadening the interpretation of the stories, prompts will not be provided here.  Feel free to contribute your own critiques and interpretations via e-mail, message board, or our e-mail group.  All rights reserved.
 
 

Click on the story title to read story~


Sob Story    by: Philip Stone
"Alone and ashamed, Colin had picked movies for the sole purpose of making the employees think that he wasnít  a weirdo with no friends. With no girlfriend. He once put off When Harry Met Sally and rented Bergmanís Wild Strawberries. Not because he liked Bergman, but because that seemed like the kind of movie a video store clerk would deem worthy of solo viewing. And it sucked."

 
 

The Sandman   by: Philip Stone
  "'It's amazing,' she says.  "Corey Haim.  Corey...HAIM.  COREY HAIM!'  Her voice is raising in volume.  A few people at nearby tables begin to turn and look at me.  Damn I'm tired.  I can hear them talking about me.  I know him.  Who is that guy?  That's Corey what's his face.  Isn't that what's his name honey it's one of the Goonies isn't that the License to Drive brat so that's what happened to that guy where's the other one I wonder look it's Corey Corey Corey Corey COREY .."

Murmur  by: Geoffrey Stone
 "Greg held the black notebook sized rectangle upright on the surface of the table and displayed it, with a mock Vanna White flourish. 'This is the ForeRunner automatic external defibrillator.'
'Lemme try.'"

Vitamin E    by: Philip Stone
 "'Oh...piss off then,"'he said.  Dude had broken glasses, black electrical tape holding 'em together.  Gauze on both hands---black electrical tape wrapped 'round 'em.  Fresh scab under his eye.  Scars on his neck.  More black electrical tape carelessly slapped across his open wounds, pulling them shut.  Brand new friggin shoes, though.  Matched his leather belt.


 

I Found Someone Better, For Real, No Doubt    by: Philip Stone
  "I look through the window and see Philip. The window is frosty but I can see Philip. He has his elbow on the front desk. He is talking to an old man with broken glasses. They are laughing. The old man walks away. Old man. Philip is alone. I can see him. He looks around. Heís alone. Philipís alone. He stuffs his hand in his pants and scratches his balls. Philip scratched his balls. Philip scratched his balls. His balls. His balls. His balls. Philip."
 
 
 
 
 
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