David S. McWilliams

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Two-Minute Tuesdays 25

February 17, 2015 by davidsmcwilliams

“Two-Minute Tuesdays” are a series of micro-stories written in five ten minutes or less.  Consider them “public practice,” like that guy who shoots free throws in the park.  Prompts are supplied at the bottom in case you want to try your own hand at one of them.

The Enchanter’s Arm (Part 2)

As an enchanter of more-than-usual ability, it was simple for him to build a hand and an arm to hold the pen. He imbued it with more-than-the-usual amount of power, and hardly daring hope he put the arm on the table. Lo and behold, it picked up the pen and began writing!

The enchanter stopped going out. He spent his days and nights in a feverish passion, reading as fast as the magic arm could write, abandoning food and sleep altogether. Sacks of letters from his love arrived at his doorstep, but he shunned them for the magnificent letters produced by the magic pen. His love’s letters soon became curious, then irritated, and finally worried, but he read none of them.

Meanwhile, the enchanter realized that the arm could write faster if it was supported by a shoulder, and the shoulder would be more steady if it was supported by a spine . . .

–

One Autumn morning, the enchanter’s (second) cousin finally arrived in person on his doorstep. She’d heard rumors about his sickness, and feared to find her lover on his deathbed. The servants tried to stop her, but she would not be denied and finally forced her way into his study.

The sight stopped her cold.

A metal statue of her sat at the desk with pen in hand, writing faster than any human could. It was grotesquely exaggerated; where she was bony, the statue was round and full. Where her bosom sagged, the statue was pert and high-breasted. Where her complexion was blotchy, the statue shown golden-pink with simulated health. Only the eye sockets were empty, showing black and bent where the enchanter had tried over and over again to recreate the eyes of his lover. He had been unable to succeed.

On the floor by the desk was the enchanter. He glanced up but did not recognize her, and went back gibbering to the endless stream of parchment that flowed from the statue’s fingers, reading the words before the ink had dried.

But the enchanter’s (second) cousin did give up. Such was her love her him that she took a step toward the statue and tried to remove the pen from its hand. There was a sharp sting as the enchanter attacked her, frail and weak from starvation but strong with the ferocity of the insane. She left.

It is, of course, a mortal sin to create an unlicensed golem in the form of a human. The city mourned the loss of the enchanter with more-than-usual ability, but the fire made for a lively spectacle that night in the town square.

(prompt: Write a fairy tale.)

(Man, and I thought the last one was dark.)

Filed Under: Fairy Tales, Two-Minute Tuesdays, Writing Tagged With: The Enchanter's Arm

Two-Minute Tuesdays 24

February 10, 2015 by davidsmcwilliams

“Two-Minute Tuesdays” are a series of micro-stories written in five ten minutes or less.  Consider them “public practice,” like that guy who shoots free throws in the park.  Prompts are supplied at the bottom in case you want to try your own hand at one of them.

The Enchanter’s Arm (Part 1)

Once upon a time there was a young enchanter of more-than-usual ability who lived in the city. He fell in love with his beautiful second cousin (which was allowed, even encouraged back in those days), and she fell in love with him in return. However, he had to leave the city to go to school far away, and so they carried on their courtship overseas. A great many letters soon filled the mailbags of those skippers unlucky enough to be running between the two cities.

The young enchanter loved getting letters from his love. They would come in a great sack whenever a ship landed, and he would try to restrain himself to a single letter per day. Inevitably he lost his resolve and tore open the entire bag, devouring over and over again the words of his lover while waiting for the next ship to come in. He lived this way for several months.

The enchanter was not lazy in writing back. He wrote once, twice, even three times daily to his distant (second) cousin. What he was lazy about, though, was washing his hands after finishing his enchanting work for the day. He often forgot to clean the magic ether off of himself before writing or reading his love’s letters, and the residue began to build up upon his favorites.

One morning he woke to a single brand-new letter laying on his desk. It was the most beautiful, transcendent, magnificent love letter yet . . . but there was no ship in the harbor. Puzzled, but unwilling to question his good fortune, he responded with even more passion than usual and dropped the his response in the mail box.

The next morning there was another letter on his desk, and the next morning another. No one knew where the letters were coming from. Finally the enchanter stayed up all night, watching his desk to learn the truth.

For hours, nothing happened. Finally a beam of moonlight came in through the window (moonbeams are a special kind of magic, of course). As soon as it struck the enchanter’s pen, the pen jerked upright and began writing feverishly on the page. When the moon faded an hour later, the pen dropped, and there it was—a fresh letter from his love!

The enchanter was astounded, and blessed his luck for the miracle. He devoured the new letters every morning for the next week, until all of a sudden they stopped.

The enchanter moped all morning, miserable and with a terrible headache. Finally, at lunch, he realized what had happened: the new moon had come the night before. With no light, there was no letter.

And then the enchanter had an idea.

(prompt: Write a fairy tale. (Yeah, I’ve been on a fairy tale kick.  I love writing these because I don’t have to explain shit.))

(Also, I’m totally sure that the enchanter’s idea won’t backfire on him in ironic fashion.  Totally.  Sure.) 

Filed Under: Fairy Tales, Two-Minute Tuesdays, Writing Tagged With: The Enchanter's Arm

Two-Minute Tuesdays 23

February 3, 2015 by davidsmcwilliams

“Two-Minute Tuesdays” are a series of micro-stories written in five ten minutes or less.  Consider them “public practice,” like that guy who shoots free throws in the park.  Prompts are supplied at the bottom in case you want to try your own hand at one of them.

The Boy From Portugal (Part 2)

After years of war, his tribe prevailed over its enemies and the young man was crowned king of the Nile. However, he did not feel any wiser than he had herding sheep in Portugal. Giving up, finally, on the spirit’s promise, the young man went back to the oasis where his love was (traveling in disguise, of course, because he’d read One Hundred and One Arabian Nights from cover to cover).

He found his love quickly. She was married to another man—an honest, brave man. He was a caravan guide and part-time camel merchant, and knew the desert well. The woman did not recognize the young king, because of his disguise, and so he asked his love about the boy from Portugal.

She sighed, but smiled. “I love him still, but love is not the only thing.”

“What more is there than love?” asked the young king.

“My lover left to seek wisdom,” answered the woman, “but my husband finds his wisdom in me. I am his life, and he is mine—we need not seek it elsewhere. That is love, and more.”

And so the young king left, and wrote a royal decree giving his entire kingdom to his love and her husband (for he could tell that they were both strong and worthy—kings know these things), keeping only enough for himself to travel back to Portugal and buy a new flock of sheep. There he lived until the end of his days, reflecting that the spirit had indeed given him a small grain of wisdom, but that love had been his to lose.

(prompt: Write a fairy tale.)

(Nice happy ending, there, bud.)

Filed Under: Fairy Tales, Two-Minute Tuesdays, Writing Tagged With: The Boy From Portugal

Two-Minute Tuesdays 22

January 27, 2015 by davidsmcwilliams

“Two-Minute Tuesdays” are a series of micro-stories written in five ten minutes or less.  Consider them “public practice,” like that guy who shoots free throws in the park.  Prompts are supplied at the bottom in case you want to try your own hand at one of them.

The Boy From Portugal (Part 1)

Once upon a time there was a young boy from Portugal named Paulo. Despite the best efforts of his mother and father, he wanted nothing to do with life on the farm and became a shepherd instead, wandering the hills with his flock instead of earning an honest living. The life suited him, and although he dreamed of doing more he never did anything about it.

One afternoon, during his usual nap, a mysterious and powerful spirit visited him.

“Boy,” it said, “I can give you one of three things. I can give you great wealth, a mighty empire, or a small grain of wisdom. Choose well.”

The boy had read One Hundred and One Arabian Nights from cover to cover, and quickly saw through the spirit’s ruse. “Give me wisdom,” he said.

“Very well,” said the spirit. “Go to the pyramids, in Egypt. You will find wisdom there.”

The boy awoke hours later, remembering the vivid dream. “I must go,” he said to himself, “if I’m not to waste the spirit’s gift.” And so he sold his sheep and set off.

Many adventures happened to the boy along the way. The pyramids were much further away than he originally suspected, and it took years to work his way across Africa. Finally he arrived at the fianl oasis in the desert, nearly at his goal.

There he met a beautiful young woman, and they fell in love.

He wanted to stay with her—she made him happy. But he knew he could not stay without sacrificing the wisdom that the spirit had promised him. So the lovers parted, and she pledged to wait until his return.

The young man reached the pyramids, but instead of wisdom he found a vast treasure. After a hair-raising adventure, he was made chief of a powerful tribe, and as much as he wanted to go back to the oasis and his love the duties of leadership called.

(prompt: Write a fairy tale.)

Filed Under: Fairy Tales, Two-Minute Tuesdays, Writing Tagged With: The Boy From Portugal

Two-Minute Tuesdays 19

December 23, 2014 by davidsmcwilliams

“Two-Minute Tuesdays” are a series of micro-stories written in five minutes or less.  Consider them “public practice,” like that guy who shoots free throws in the park.  Prompts are supplied at the bottom in case you want to try your own hand at one of them.

The Rose Garden (Pt. 2)

The witch was patient.  She and the man became friends, and soon they found themselves sharing lunch together in the woods behind the schoolhouse.  She never said that she loved him, but on the third Tuesday of every month she asked him for a rose.

The schoolteacher wanted to bring the woman a rose, but try as he might nothing would grow in his garden.  Finally he stopped by the flower shop one Tuesday morning and bought a rose.  It wasn’t as beautiful or sweet as his own had been, but it would serve.

This worked for months until one morning she caught him in the flower shop before school.  “What are you doing?” she asked him.

He hung his head and explained what had happened, how his flower garden still refused be anything other than a black, rotting mess.

“Show me,” she said.

The two of them went back to the man’s garden.  He showed her the garden, reluctantly, knowing that she would immediately shun him when she saw it.  But instead, the witch smiled, and told him to wait where he was.  She filled her hands with water from the well, breathed a quick spell over them, and then sprinkled the water on the dull earth.

Immediately the dead vines sprang to life, twisting and moving around each other with years of suppressed growth.  Roses, rich with color, bloomed everywhere.

And the schoolteacher smiled, picked a rose, and gave it to the witch.  They lived happily ever after.

(Prompt: Write a fairy tale.)

Filed Under: Fairy Tales, Two-Minute Tuesdays, Writing Tagged With: The Rose Garden

Two-Minute Tuesdays 18

December 16, 2014 by davidsmcwilliams

“Two-Minute Tuesdays” are a series of micro-stories written in five minutes or less.  Consider them “public practice,” like that guy who shoots free throws in the park.  Prompts are supplied at the bottom in case you want to try your own hand at one of them.

The Rose Garden (Part 1)

Once upon a time, a young man lived by himself in a village in a house he’d inherited from his parents.  He was the village schoolteacher, but behind his house was his true passion: a closely-guarded rose garden, safe behind a tall fence.  Before and after school he spent his time there, planting, watering, and pruning the flowers that he was known for.

Also in this village was a young woman that he was in love with.  Every Friday he picked the most  beautiful rose in his garden and brought it to her, and they went for a walk in the forest.  Soon they were engaged to be married.

But tragedy struck.  The young woman was run over by a runaway carriage one afternoon and died.  The schoolteacher cried all night, and when he awoke in the morning his beautiful garden had withered and died.

Several years went by.  Try as he might, the schoolteacher wasn’t able to grow a single flower in his garden; it remained as black and dead as the day his love had died.  He boarded up the gate and wouldn’t let anyone else see what was inside.

Eventually the village grew into a town, and the schoolhouse was expanded with a second room.  Another teacher was hired, a lovely young woman who was also secretly a witch.  She fell in love with the schoolteacher, and after asking delicately around town discovered the story of the rose garden.

One day, after classes, the witch approached the schoolteacher.  “I heard you grow the most lovely roses.  Would you bring me one tomorrow?”

The man was startled.  “Uh . . . no!  I can’t!”  And he hurried home before she could say another word.

(To be continued)

(Prompt: Write a fairy tale.)

Filed Under: Fairy Tales, Two-Minute Tuesdays, Writing Tagged With: The Rose Garden

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