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Britt Forum-Blogger© Original500© Member  Learning Contentment
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 Hiya, Writers! I've decided to try doin' a few writing exercises every few days called "500 Word Shorts." These are short stories or short essays that must be exactly 500 words. It is a fun way to flex your writing muscles and possibly hit upon ideas for future stories. If you're interested, submit your own!DRESDEN By Britt Elizabeth Verstegen “I’m sorry ‘bout what I did to your people.” I was startled to see an old man standing before me. In less than a second, I took stock of his appearance: Two inches shorter than me. Over seventy years old. Navajo, maybe Apache. Hair a mop of oily black. A white substance lining his mouth, staining the tip of his nose. Rheumy, yellow eyes. Leathery brown skin. An impression of his breath hit me next: Cheap beer and an acrid smell I could not place. Oh, yes: Paint. Aerosol paint, to be exact. This explained the stark white color around his mouth and upon his brown nose. I looked beyond him and noticed another old man sitting beside the gas station, huffing from an aerosol paint container. I looked to the man with compassion and asked kindly, “What?” “Dresden,” he said. “I shot all your people to hell at Dresden.” I tried to imagine the scene from his point of view: One o’clock in the morning. Lonely gas station open 24 hours. Blond and blue-eyed woman in her mid-twenties pumping gas. And then it hit me: He thought I was German. He must have been a veteran of the Second World War and served in the Air Force. I decided to play along. “It’s alright. Really. It was a war. You were following orders. No one is angry with you. We already forgot.” Tears began to well in his eyes. “Yeah, but I shot your city to hell. I shot it up from the sky until it was flat. I killed a lot a’ people, probably your family. I’m sorry.” He began to sob. My tank was full and I returned the pump to it’s cradle. With the old man following me, I walked slowly to the attendant to pay my bill. The man was at a respectful distance, his chest convulsing as he choked back sobs. “You alright, Lady?” the attendant asked. The attendant had a thick accent, probably Jordanian or Palestinian. “That stupid sharmut Indian man, he is bothering you?” I shook my head, smiled icily at the insult, and returned to the car. Taking care to note the old man was at a safe distance, I unlocked my door. He watched me. He was sobbing so deeply that his lips made no sound. “I’m sorry,” he mouthed silently. I smiled reassuringly. His eyes softened and he dried his tear-stained cheeks and runny nose with his sleeve. “You’re a nice lady,” he said finally. “You know I didn’t mean anything by shootin’ up your city.” I smiled and opened my door to begin the 1.5 hour trip to Fort Defiance. Fatigue entered my body and I remembered how deeply tired I was. Unexpectedly, the old man was suddenly within inches of me, his paint and beer stained breath heavy in my nostrils, his right hand reaching for my cheek. I drew back, confused and then fearful. The old man laughed gently. “Don’t worry, Daughter. I’m just saying goodbye.”
 "All that you have is your soul." --Tracy Chapman |
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Hamster Guest
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Amazing Britt thank you. I didn't count the words to make sure you didn't cheat so I'll trust you. More please! 
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Britt Forum-Blogger© Original500© Member Learning Contentment
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Hamster wrote: Amazing Britt thank you. I didn't count the words to make sure you didn't cheat so I'll trust you. You're sweet! 
"All that you have is your soul." --Tracy Chapman |
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Saint Forum-Blogger© Pioneer100© Member  Polymath
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Nice work, Britt! Great characterization!
A^2 + B^2 = C^2 |
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Britt Forum-Blogger© Original500© Member Learning Contentment
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Saint wrote: Nice work, Britt! Great characterization! Thanks, Saint!
"All that you have is your soul." --Tracy Chapman |
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