Short Story (Excerpt 1)

For the month of January I decide to write (or at least start) a short story. Below are the first two paragraphs of this endeavor. Feel free to give me you thoughts! I’ll will be post bits and pieces of it as I bring it closer to completion in days to come. Oh and I don’t have a title yet for it, but here it is:

It was a frigid and fragile night. Henry sat heaped like a bundle of logs in front of the fireplace. His arms were tangled against his chest, pulling warmth from forgotten corners of his body, and his feet reached out to touch the flames, but always retreated when the flames reached back. As he collected heat from the golden fire his eyes were engaged with the kettle dangling above it. He watched the flames dance and strained his eyes as if he believed the kettle was secretly dancing as well. For a time he’d gaze suspiciously at the kettle. From there he would turn his head, slowly, to watch its shadow moving rapidly on the wall, and then, quick as a flash, his eyes would run back to the kettle expecting to catch it the act of sin. The kettle, however, never moved.

Henry fed the fire slowly and sporadically. Times were tough and burning logs was like burning his day’s wages, over and over again. With each log Henry saw his hard earned money waste away before him for a few more minutes of precious heat. He found it hard spacing out the time between each log. He knew that it was only a matter of time before he’d run out, and have to scrounge up what he could to buy more. He was getting old and cutting and collecting his own wood was becoming quite a challenge. So, he spaced the logs out strategically to satisfy both himself and the fire, but also to teach them both endurance.


About Jeremiah Dowling

I write poetry and take crazy pictures in an Orange Chair all over the United States while reading amazing books.

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