The Sunday Flash Fiction Story (30 December 2012)

Woman As Art

Woman As Art

Pittsburgh got more snow yesterday.  It’s around noon.  I’m going to post this and then go to one of my favorite bars.  The Steelers have a 1:00 p.m. game today, but the game is meaningless.  They lost last weekend and that was their last chance to make it to the playoffs.

Well, it’s been a good year for the Pittsburgh Flash Fiction Gazette.  Readership went from around 5,000 views in January to over 30,000 views today for December.

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Now, what can I tell you about this old story of mine?  I’ve always been a big fan of Ernest Hemingway.  His writing style has had a great impact on my own writing style.  Oh, I can’t write like Hemingway, but believe me sometimes I have tried to and I guess this story is one of those times that I tried to.

I published this story on this blog on 1 November 2008.

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The Hemingway Hero

It was night and the rain came down hard on the twinkling lights of the Steel City. The young man stood in his briefs at the window as shadows danced about the unlit bedroom of his off-campus apartment on the eighteenth floor of a steel and glass building. He watched the rain and the lights as the young woman slept in the bed behind him. Both were graduate students. In the morning she was returning to a university on the west coast.

The young woman stirred. “Sweetie,” she said. “What on earth are you doing?”

“Trying to get use to living without you.”

Ernest Hemingway Writing at Campsite in Kenya ...

Ernest Hemingway Writing at Campsite in Kenya – NARA – 192655 (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

She was silent a long time. The bedroom was filled with the sound of the falling rain. She said, “Come back to bed. Come back to bed and I’ll try to make it better.”

“Better? That won’t make it better. That’ll only make it worse.”

“Not even better for a little while?”

He watched the rain and the lights of the city. When he graduated he would teach in the city. He would live in the city. She would live on the west coast.

“Well,” he said, “maybe for a little while.”

He knew nothing could ever make it better, not even for a little while. He turned and approached the bed anyway. It was the brave thing to do. 

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Is The Occupy Movement Dead?

What happened to the Occupy Wall Street movement?  What happened to Occupy Pittsburgh?  The Pittsburgh Flash Fiction Gazette is ready to give the movement space in this magazine, but the movement has to do something to bring attention to itself.  Live by the media; die by the media.

Occupying the property of other people was a brilliant tactic.  It guaranteed that the media would pay attention; but now if the movement actually wants to be a player in American society or in American politics, it’s got to come up with another tactic.

Now that the movement has played it’s best card, and what seems to be its only card, it can no longer catch communities and the authorities by surprise.  No community anywhere in the United States will allow the occupiers to occupy anything ever again.

occupy wall street

occupy wall street (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Maybe it’s time for the movement to actually become a movement and not just a group of protesters? 

I may be wrong, but I think the time has come for the movement to realize that it needs a leadership structure.  It needs people who will take on the responsibilities of leadership and who will provide purpose, direction and motivation.

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Hello, everyone from all over the world.

It’s around noon in the Steel City on a mild (60s), partly sunny day.  The Old Soldier did not make it to the public library yesterday to renew his book on the Negro baseball leagues.  I will have to do that today or pay a fine.

Nor did I get anything new for my crock pot; but I did pay all my bills by snail mail; now begins the battle to live within my budget which means I cannot drink beer every day.  I have some beer in the refrigerator right now.

Tomorrow is officially designated as a non-alcoholic day.

Because Friday night is karaoke at Del’s in Bloomfield, a 15 minute walk from my apartment and I will be drinking beer.

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Read.  Study.  Write.  Submit.

Keep reading and writing that flash fiction.

Life In The City: Getting Caught In The Crossfire

Vegetables in a grocery store, Paris, France.

Image via Wikipedia

It’s afternoon in the Steel City.  The Old Soldier is about to go for a walk on this partly sunny, warm day.  But first let me remind all you writers out there that if you want to know what flash fiction is all about, this is the blog for you.

There are dozens of great flash fiction stories to entertain you and dozens of articles about writing flash fiction to inform you.

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Take a moment now to support this site with a small donation.  The donation tab is at the top of the page.  Thank you.

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Hello, my brother and sister bloggers, readers and writers.  It’s time for the Old Soldier to stretch his legs.  I’m going to a small grocery store a few blocks from my apartment to pick up a couple of things.  The name of the owner of the store is Alex.  The store is right up the street from Sonny’s Tavern.  I use to like to shop at the store and to talk to Alex who is from the Middle East until he told me that he has been robbed several times.

His store sits on the corner of a residential area.  So, he is quite vulnerable.  I’m always concerned that I might get caught in the crossfire of a robbery.  That’s life in the big city.

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