Building A Short Story | The Deep End

Building A Short Story ~ The Deep End

We announced yesterday that this was the 6th installment in our series, Building A Short Story. Well, we were wrong, because this is actually week 7.

We have come a long way since we started with our 55 word fiction piece as a cornerstone to build our short story upon. The story has grown by exactly double with each passing week as we continue this experiment in creating a larger piece from micro-fiction.

The process has been a real joy for me as I’ve watched the tale grow into something that you can sink your teeth into. The story became an official short fiction piece last week, which is allowing us to flesh out more details.

One of the things I love about micro-fiction is that we allow our readers to use their imagination. Writers of flash are limited to word count, so every word has weight and momentum, otherwise the story will fall flat.

Authors of micro-fiction shove the readers over the cliff, where writers of beefier tales act as a guide on the path to the bottom.

During this week’s chats over the story line, Carrie and I finally decided where this thing was going to end up, which has been another great aspect about this project. We have trusted each other, although our styles and preferred genrés are vastly different.

I’d say the trust has worked in our favor.

The Heart of the Hound

I was doing what I had been doing every night for the previous year when that call came in from the dispatcher; trying to choke back love by assaulting it with large doses of bourbon.

No matter how hard I tried to fight it off, love came at me with tear fueled memories that left gaping holes in my heart. Love tread on my soul with its horrific war hammer of depression. My essence screamed her name, but there was no answer.

Not since that fateful night, the year before, when my Shawna was ripped away from me by three .38 rounds while she was on her way to pick me up from the station. Damn that old truck, damn that carjacking asshole.

I swore I would never love again, yet every moment I live is torn by love.

The house was dark and cold. The phone rang and I choked back tears as I fumbled for the receiver, nearly dropping it.

Joanne was the dispatcher on duty that night and she had been with the department for as long as Denny and I had been friends. She loved us as family, often reminding one of an important calendar date for the other. She knew exactly how men were.

Joanne called me to let me know that something terribly wrong had happened at Denny’s and I needed to sober up and get there immediately.

Joanne knew too much about me.

Stumbling to the bathroom to wipe away love’s abuse, I looked into the mirror and noticed that what were once graying temples had spread their influence all through my hair.

No time to lament on youth, Denny was in trouble.

It is funny how an emergency can hold back the power of bourbon. Once in the city issue car and on the streets, I felt sober and my tactical thinking mind was coming into play. First I needed to go inside the scene and talk to Denny. Joanne did say that Denny was alive and, although Nora would be taken to the hospital, she would be fine. Joanne also said there was a death at the scene.

This could only mean one thing. Somehow, Nora’s life had been threatened and Denny took care of it. The love between Nora and Denny was legendary. Almost as legendary as mine and Shawna’s.

The drive took less than five minutes over the quiet streets, and I could see the aura of emergency vehicle lights well before I arrived. Pulling up to the scene, I popped two breath mints and got out.

Time to put on my work mask and suppress my own problems.

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Years ago I started writing Flash Fiction for just the sheer enjoyment of writing, and now it has turned into a full blown addiction. I can't quit the horse, man! Another dirty little secret about me is my ability to write all kinds of web content. SEO content, articles, blog posts, manifests; you name it, I'll write it. Looking for some help? My gun hangs at r.alex.crabtree@gmail.com