#ShortShortStories

a cure for the common block

Some of My Best Friends Are…

It was suggested as just a friendly outing, but the midnight picnic Birdie planned felt romantic which didn’t upset Ophelia, somewhat surprisingly. They sat on a blanket in Birdie’s backyard stargazing and chatting as they nibbled on the delicious spread Ophelia had provided, growing closer and more relaxed as the night wore on. A few hours before dawn they were laid on their backs with their fingers intertwined, neither remembered when it happened their fingers just found each other and laced together, but the lovely moment was interrupted by the clatter of trash cans knocked over by a creature that slipped while spying on them. The short round alien wasn’t afraid of them, it could sense the intentions of other beings and it found them because it could sense not only that they wouldn’t harm it, but their nature would drive them to help the abandoned outsider.

#ShortShortStories #SomeOfMyBestFriendsAre…

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2 thoughts on “Some of My Best Friends Are…

  1. Moody Paper on said:

    Thoughts:

    That alien sense would be wonderful to have.

    I was pissed at the interruption, but then the end was tender in a more abstract way.

    My responses often feel incredibly self indulgent, it could be my narcissism…but I think when a strong memory is evoked and I have to focus to get to the next sentence it speaks to the power of word choice and arrangement. I could go on and on, because one could argue the other way…that ‘the telling’ should keep me there always. Impossible for me. It would be cool to climb inside another person’s head when they read.

    I’ve been meaning to mention that searching “trust” on this blog reveals fascinating results. I thought of it when I was searching for Kennedy’s story.

  2. Moody Paper on said:

    re: third comment – it’s like the arrangement of notes in music evoking emotions and memories. universal feelings, specific memories.

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