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Mini Sledgehammer: July 2011

Thanks to everyone who came out for Mini Sledgehammer this month!

Prompts:
Character: A person stuck in the eighties
Action: Flipping hair
Setting: Furniture store
Phrase: “You want me to do what?”

Congratulations to Kerrie Farris, who stole the prize!

***

Untitled

By Kerrie Farris

Sheela walked into the furniture store with her mother. The overhead lights shone dully off the polyester furniture. Sheela sighed, slouched, and trailed miserable behind.

She wasn’t sure what her mother wanted here. There was nothing beautiful in this showroom, or even interesting, like you might find in a vintage shop or a flea market. Her mother, Annette’s, taste in clothes, music, and everything else was decidedly dated. The skinny jeans and peacock-blue eye shadow she wore may have made a comeback but, in Sheela’s mind, not on the body of a 47-year-old woman.

While her mother chattered gaily to the shapely young woman trying to sell her a Lay-Z-Boy, Sheela wandered off towards the back of the store, and walked the length of a row of dressing tables. Her expression glanced sullenly back at her from each one. When she reached the end of the row, however, an unfamiliar face greeted her.

It was a boy she knew from school. Was his name Shane? Or Sean? Something like that. He was quiet and sort of strange. He rarely spoke up in class or at school, but when he did it was usually in social science classes, with some odd comment or question that baffled Sheela.

He was just standing there, staring at her. Sheela shifted her feet, cocking one hip forward, and flipped her hair.

“I work here.” He said, and held a broom forward, as if to prove it.

“Ok.” Sheela replied.

“Hey, what are you here for? Can I help you?” He was still holding the broom forward.

“I don’t know. Some god-awful leopard-print ottoman, probably. I don’t need any help.” Sheela looked down.

“Hey…” He was still holding the broom out, perhaps for protection.

Sheela looked up, and was about to toss her hair back again when he asked her-

“Would you…will you…I’d like you to…you know…gota th’ dancewithme?”

“Huh? You want me to do what?” Sheela snapped, but didn’t mean to.

“Oh, you’re going with someone else.” It wasn’t a question.

“I didn’t say that.” This time she did flip her hair, forcefully.

“I…” He started.

“Sheela!” Her mother bellowed across the row of couches and dressers. She saw one acid-green manicured hand waving above them.

“I have to go.” She said, turning just enough to see her mother’s frosted blond pixie cut bobbing towards her.

“Ok, um, so…will you go? With me?”

“What’s your name?” Sheela turned back to him, cringing, but ignoring her mother’s voice.

“Seamus. It’s an Irish name.”

“Hmmph. Bye.” Sheela turned back to her mother, and sighed all the way back through the rows of recliners. They must’ve turned on another bank of lights. The furniture didn’t seem quite as ugly.

Sheela’s mother commented, “I can’t believe you’re actually standing up straight!”

Sheela scowled, turned away, and smiled.

© 2011 Kerrie Farris

***

Kerrie Farris is in the process of writing her first novel. She has always wanted to be a writer, which is only fitting as she was named after a character in a book. She lives in Northwest Portland with her fiance and two cats.

Mini Sledgehammer: St. Johns Booksellers Birthday Edition

Happy Big Six, St. Johns Booksellers!

Before her store celebrated its birthday this past Saturday, June 25, Néna Rawdah messaged us to ask if we could work with her to host a Mini Sledgehammer as part of the celebration: “If you’re up for it, that would just round out the day for me.” How could we turn down something like that? Not that we’d want to anyway–we heart this Portland bookstore and appreciate the many ways it supports us, and all of its neighbors.

What a great turnout! Writers and friends of writers both. We judges had to debate the many merits of the four submitted stories, which ranged drastically in tone and topic. In the end, though, we were unanimous: congratulations, Brynn Tran!

Thanks so much to everyone for coming out. Those who did also learned that that evening launched our second permanent Mini Sledgehammer series. Now join us every second Thursday at 7 p.m. at St. Johns Booksellers!

***

Prompts:
Character: A cute girl bass player
Action: Nibbling on a pen or pencil
Setting: Over yonder
Phrase: King me!”

***

The Professor

By Brynn Tran

She could taste the salt on her upper lip, feel it stinging her right eye. The setting sun burned orange and she glared at it as she dragged the cumbersome case up the gravel road. It was hot. Too hot for eight in the evening. To hot to drag her bass over every dusty, dry hill. Too hot to hurry. Her car thought it was too hot, too, and gave up three miles back. Now her makeup was running and her hair was plastered in golden snakes to her forehead, and all she could see was a mire of green-black retina burn. She glared at the sun, daring it to set. “Fuck you, sun,” she said.

A figure shimmered in and out of existence between heat waves over yonder, perched atop the next hill. The girl hesitated. “Hey,” she called. The figure’s head snapped to. “You have a car?” she asked, immediately regretting it. If he had a car he would be in it, anywhere but here. It was unusual, standing alone in the middle of nowhere. Then again, she was the one with a tube top and a fourth of a string quartet.

“Not anymore, miss,” the figure replied. The notebook he was holding snapped shut, and his pen played about his lips. He smiled wanly. “Are you headed over there?” he jerked his thumb over the crest of the hill and, as the girl approached him, the lights of a town winked at them both.

She felt like a triumphant checker. King me, she thought. Please.

The man laughed good-naturedly at her relieved face. His eyes crinkled up at the corners, a cool blue, like a teacher the girl had once known. He reminded her of her high school orchestra conductor and she reminded herself why she was walking. This was her dream. All she wanted was to make it. To make it big, to make it to this one gig and be golden.

“Let me carry that for you,” said the man. He reached over and took the bass from her. She suddenly felt lighter than air. Perhaps it was his cologne. “What’s your name?” he asked.

“Jen,” said the girl. “You don’t have to do that, really.”

“I insist,” said the man. “What are you doing out here all by yourself?”

“I’ve got a show tonight with my band. There’s gonna be some big names there. Producers, that kinda thing.” Jen was getting ahead of him, speeding up. She figured she had about twenty minutes to make it to that great hulking blob in the distance. Since it still looked like a blob, it would likely take much longer. “So… what are you doing out here? Writing?”

“Sure,” he said. “Notes. Observations. That sort of thing.”

What could he be taking notes on? Jen wondered. There was really nothing for miles, except the town.

“I’m a scientist.” It was as though he knew her thoughts. “A professor,” he added, as an afterthought.

“Where do you teach?”

“Oh, I don’t teach anymore.”

“Why?”

Jen whirled at the sound of a heavy clatter and found herself staring down a cool blade. A knife – no, a scalpel. Her instrument rocked from side to side where it fell. It was the only sound. She didn’t scream. She didn’t even breathe. His icy fingers gripped her by the hair.

Why?” the Professor parroted. “Because I’m starting my own project,” he said.

The obsidian scalpel flashed. She didn’t even scream.

Very carefully, the Professor lifted the latches on the case and removed the bass. He placed it on the side of the road. Then he folded up the girl, stuffed her inside, closed the lid, and continued on his way towards the lights of the town. The sun slipped below the horizon.

© 2011 Brynn Tran

***

Brynn shares about herself and her story: “I just turned eighteen and graduated from Lakeridge High School in Lake Oswego, and I’ll be attending Reed College next year to study English. The Professor in this short story is actually a character I made in my creative writing class this year, who I had no intention of writing about. The ironic thing is that his last name is St. John.”

Mini Sledgehammer: June 2011

If you’ve ever thought the judges have an easy job choosing these winning stories, you’re very wrong. Three of us debated for a very long time this month–so many of the stories were incredible! We finally decided on Amy Seaholt‘s story, and it was thrilling to watch her reaction. It was as if she’d won a game show!

Thanks so much to everyone for coming out. We hope to see you next month, and the month after, and of course at the main event in September.

***

Prompts:
Character: A water park attendant
Action: Adjusting a telescope
Setting: An eerily empty freeway
Phrase: “You’re never going to believe this.”

***

Untitled

By Amy Seaholt

Justin’s shift ended at 7 p.m., though Raging Waters stayed open until 9. His dad said it was called that because the waters were raging with bacteria. Justin always chuckled at this, not because it was funny, as his Pop thought, but because it came from a man who only cared to shower once every few days and who Justin knew didn’t properly wash his hands after using the toilet.

Justin was far too old to be attracted to any of the high school kids who would flip their ponytails or snap their gum at him in an unpracticed attempt at flirting. They seemed to think that the job held some glamour. Or maybe they were just looking for free admission to the park.

Anyone his own age thought that it was a menial position and that he was incapable of impressing any girls with it. He knew this was true, so he didn’t tell anyone he knew at the State college about it. He even took pains to wash the chlorine smell from him as completely as he could before going to classes.

When Susan, his biology lab partner during summer term, got close to him to do a fetal pig dissection, he felt sure that she wouldn’t smell the chlorine over the formaldehyde. She had a good nose.

“Do you lifeguard?” She had asked.

“Yes, part time,” he replied, not wanting to go into more detail.

Where?

He pretended not to hear, he was so focused on the pig.

“Where do you lifeguard?” she asked again.

“Oh, just a place.” He was trying to be vague.

She narrowed his eyes at him. “Why are you avoiding the question. Do you work at Raging waters or something?”

He gave a slight nod.

“I used to love that place! I went about ten times every summer as soon as my parents would let me go by myself.”

Shhh! We’re going to get behind what everyone else is doing. He said. It was the first time he really noticed her long, smooth brown hair, wide eyes, her long neck. She was cute.

“I think it’s cute.” She said. “I just work at Starbucks. Boring.”

It was the cute comment, and that he was thinking the same of her at the same time, that gave him the courage to ask her out.

“You’re never going to believe this, me being a professional water park attendant slash biologist, but I know a cool place where you can see billions of stars. You have to get out of the city, though. You want to come with me sometime?”

Her eyes crinkled up when she smiled.

So after Justin’s shift ended at 7 he took a long shower to get rid of the chlorine smell and the stray bacteria that his father would suspect was there, and he picked up Susan for the drive up 99, then 70.

They spoke about high school for a while, and he explained that he had taken Dr. Greene’s astronomy class during the previous semester and had really gotten into it. Now he liked to take time-lapse photos of the stars. He was a little worried, revealing this to her, but she listened intently and the conversation was so easy that time passed quickly. Before he knew it he was pulling over.

“You can’t stop here, it’s the middle of the highway!” She had another one of her grins that pinched the edges of her brown eyes.

“Don’t worry. Nobody comes this way this time of night.”

He got out the tripod and telescope and began to set it up. “What do you want to see first. Saturn? The Orion nebula?”

“Yes. Any of that.” She said genially.

The more time he spent with her the more relaxed he felt. It was going really well.

“Okay, he said. Come down here and take a look.” He indicated to the telescope.

She bent her head to the eyepiece. Can you see it ok? He asked. She said it was a bit blurry. As he adjusted the focus he inhaled the fragrance of her curtain of hair. His heart beat a little faster and he wondered if he should kiss her. His palms began to sweat and he could feel himself getting red.

At that moment, headlights, coming fast, swept around the bend. His nerves already on edge, he failed to warn her, verbally, to move out of the way. Instead, he yanked the telescope up and pulled her arm to direct her to the edge of the road. Except that he did it too quickly, out of order, and slammed the telescope sight into her beautiful brown eye, tumbling her to the side of the road.

She was holding her eye, lying on the side of the highway, he was hovering over her, as the intruding car came to a stop to see if all was all right.

© 2011 Amy Seaholt

***

Amy Seaholt is a realtor by day and a writer by night. She is learning that if you actually want to get published, you have to let people read your work. You can read a little of hers here: http://brandofcrazy.blogspot.com/. She lives in Northeast Portland with her husband and two young children.

Mini Sledgehammer Special Edition: St. Johns Booksellers Anniversary Party

Join us for a very special celebration of the sixth anniversary of one of our favorite bookstores, St. Johns Booksellers. We’ll be there with our timer and prompts, bring your favorite writing utensil and the desire to win!

Saturday, June 25, 7 p.m.
8622 N. Lombard St.
Portland, OR 97203 (map)
503-283-0032

Free to enter. Each event includes 36 minutes of writing guided by four writing prompts. Stories will be judged, and the winner will take home prizes.

We’ll bring notepads, but feel free to write on your laptop instead. Event starts promptly at 7, so arrive early to browse the shelves and settle in before the clock starts ticking!

Micro Sledgehammer: National Tell a Story Day 2011

Thanks to those who played our National Tell a Story Day Micro Sledgehammer on April 27. While we posted the winner on our Facebook wall right away, we neglected to post here, too! Challenged with writing a complete story in 36 words or fewer and incorporating the prompt “key,” Eva Sylwester won!

In addition to fame, Eva has won $10 off our main event, Sledgehammer 36-Hour Writing Contest. She’s now looking for a Portland-based partner to team up with—if you’re interested, let her know via our Facebook wall, Sledgehammer Writing Contest.

The manager fingered the new building key as she showed the police officer photos from the cleaned out desk. “She shot this bear and had it made into pepperoni.” 

© 2011 Eva Sylwester