Category Archives: Prose
For today’s liv2write2day’s Blog Fiction, Poetry and Writing Prompts, Victoria wrote, “As we approach the end of the year and the beginning of another, a theme inspires me: endings.”
She went on to assign, and here, I have blended some of her choices, “Write a poem or a piece of short fiction about an ending/write a poem with a surprise ending.”
I have been watching Boardwalk Empire, and thought I could…well, if I told you, it would be a spoiler alert to the spoiler alert, so, read the story, and you will probably figure out how I got this idea.
As he read, she stood over his shoulder, undaunted, grinning. As he read the last few paragraphs, he started shaking his head, for he sensed what was to come.
“Throughout the acclaimed series, I debated whether the style was Jacobean or Elizabethan. As I attempted to properly label the dramatic style, each episode, nay, each scene, brought me back and forth, like an amusement park The Pirate Ship ride. My mind maneuvered, like an Aston Martin in an early Bond movie. Clearly, there were aspects of The Godfather that were parallel to both Macbeth and the Henry IV trilogy. Undoubtedly, any given episode maintained characteristics of The Revenger’s Tragedy.
“As a connoisseur of award winning television drama, I was seduced into watching two full seasons back to back. The opening of the stylish, expressionist, HBO period piece, was directed by Martin Scorsese himself.
“Finally, as I salivated over the virtuosity of the final episode of the second season, I could concede to only one formal designation: Greek Tragedy.
“Of course, within the voluminous works of that era, only one work parallels. Thus, the spoiler alert of the week: Boardwalk Empire is the most Oedipal of all contemporary dramatic works ever to…”
He stopped reading. Her smile faded, “What? Is it that bad? Too over the top English-major? What?”
“No,” he kissed her on the forehead. “this is your best writing ever, well, at least for your Spoiler column. Hon, I don’t know how to tell you this, but, that wasn’t the end, it wasn’t the last episode, it was second to last.”
“OH!” replied the loquacious English Major, “oh.”
Photo Credit: © HBO 2011
Poetics-Endings & Beginnings
Although the knife was not sharp enough to painlessly shear flesh, the tip was just the right size to fit under my finger nails and clean them out. It was a knife like no other. Once a week, I would clean it with alcohol swabs and oil it down with gun oil. Then the fast action spring in the Flame Blade Chopper would release with seemingly no pressure at all. I only had a few minutes to clean my nails, because my girlfriend gets totally grossed-out when I do this, and I didn’t want to fight with her. I tried to hurry.
The door of the compartment slid open. Her face was ashen. A booger was impaled on the tip of the blade. I was about to explain when she said, “Blood. Blood all over a fine Pucci scarf. Belonged to the keyboard player. I saw them drag him off.”
I’m trying Prose for the first time on this blog. It’s for one stop poetry. They asked for a fragment, specifically the beginning of a killer on a train story.