Story

Our assignment in English was to construct a short story that didn’t rely on dialogue. Any dialogue we included had to be minimal and absolutely necessary to the story. We wrote two flash fictions and chose our favorite to modify in Design and WebAudio. Our short story was the basis for all the other assignments featured on this website. We learned to flesh out our characters by exploring their “wants” and “needs.”

Hanged Man

The spring wind screeched at the soaked students on their way home. As rain bombarded the students, like a herd of frightened antelopes, they poured out of the school’s gates and down into the street. A young boy, panicked by the onrush of the giants, pushed past Clorica, jolting a book filled with scribbled stanzas and hastily crossed out lines from Clorica’s arms. As she bent to pick it up, a stray poster darted under Clorica’s boots. Poet Laureate Award, read the bolded text heading the half-ruined paper. Smaller words dotting the edge of the paper detailed the date and time. When Clorica rose again, both poster and book were clutched tightly in her arms.
In the solace of her own room, Clorica barely managed to shove the book into her cluttered shelf. Running a finger over the spines of the books, each identical to the others, she finally sought out the right book. She yanked out the heavy volume, sending the dependent volumes into a domino landslide. Dropping the book with a cacophonic bang onto her desk, Clorica flipped through the pages until her finger found the ink stained page that contained her greatest masterpiece.
That same masterpiece sat in Clorica’s hands as she approached the poetry booth. As she strode through the meandering crowd, she spared the advertising poster, now posted in its full glory on the wall, a last glance. But when she examined it, she discovered that the part of the poster that had been obliterated by the wind and rain the previous day truly defined the nature of the contest.
Award decided by popular vote, stated the poster. Clorica took a step back, her eyes widening at this insulting affront. As she gazed, horror-struck, at the poster, another girl carelessly pushed her way through, too busy chatting with her friends to apologize.
“Your poem is definitely the best, Karina!” the girl fawned.
The rest of the flock chorused their agreement. Karina beamed gratefully, but her attention strayed elsewhere. Stopping a passerby, she offered him a poster, and as if campaigning, cheerfully called out, “Vote for me!”
Several feet away, Clorica curled her lip. Marching up to the poetry booth, she singled out Karina’s entry. As her eyes scanned the simplistic lines, her back started to straighten. The rest of the entries were equally pathetic, complete with nonsensical grammar and misspellings. Lifting her head, she slammed her entry onto the table.
An hour later, Clorica strutted back to the booth. However, a glance at Karina’s flock sent her reeling away. For once, Clorica was hung by her foot in her own element.
“Yay! You won - oh, but, of course you would!” cheered one of Karina’s sidekicks.
Noticing Clorica for the first time, Karina offered a hand and introduced herself. Clorica was too busy glancing at the results in disbelief to register Karina’s admiring remarks. Karina paused in her string of compliments to backtrack.
“Oh, I’m so sorry; I’ve been so rude,” Karina exclaimed. “What’s your name?”