Tag: vignette
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Christmas Morning Memories
VIGNETTTE December 1987 I sat on the cream-colored sofa and slowly slid my 8-year old body to the edge. Tchaikovsky’s Nutcracker Suite played in the background as the crackling fire masked the sound of my internal excitement. It was an ice-covered, Oklahoma Christmas morning, and we had opened all the usual presents. The things we…
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A Cherished Rose
A VIGNETTE: I stepped inside the solitary room and observed her from a distance. It was just the two of us. Her make-up done the way she always wore it. Her short, soft curls cemented by Rave aerosol hairspray. I walked over with her perfume bottle and spritzed it across her neck. Wafting the sweet…
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Conversations in the Time of Corona
A COMEDIC VIGNETTE “How ya doing, Franz?” He stared back at me in silence. “I said how are you doing?” I shook my head and made my way to the kitchen. Opening the fridge, I pulled out spaghetti, shoveled it onto a plate and placed it in the microwave. He doesn’t even have the decency…
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Don’t run
VIGNETTE I backed away, slowly inching toward the river. My breathe calm and steady even as my heart raced. Thump-thump-thump; thump-thump-thump; thump-thump-thump. Doing my best to avoid direct eye contact, I froze when I heard the crackle of the branch under my foot. Time stood still for a fraction of a second that seemed to…
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WP: Earl
MONOLOGUE (1-minute): Mia, 8 years old I have a fish named Earl. People ask why I named him that. I don’t know… I just looked at him and said “Earl!” That’s how I do things. It feels right. Like if someone looks sad, I give ’em a hug. If someone looks mad, I try to…
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WP: Morning Habits
VIGNETTE Looking down at my fingertips, I notice them black, smudged by the paper. It’s part of my habit. Coffee brewed at 6:30 am every morning for the past twenty years. An English muffin topped with sweet marmalade and three slices of jalapeño. And a single fried egg with bacon. Always with bacon. Some people…
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Mimi and her toast
VIGNETTE My grandma, who we called Mimi, was standing at my kitchen counter eating her morning toast. She started to walk around observing my new living quarters as crumbs fell to the floor with every bite. Seeing the mess, I grabbed a plate and followed after her in an attempt to catch the crumbs. “What…
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My love life is suffering
VIGNETTE, Humor Head buried in The New Yorker is not the norm for my morning commute on the Q, but I recently subscribed and am quite enjoying my quiet time with the articles each morning. It seems more productive than staring at random people as I internally bee-bop to the Broadway tunes in my earbuds.…
Angel K Will 