I read in a magazine that Hemingway once wrote a six-word story.
For sale: baby shoes, never worn.
What marvelous economy! So much said in spite of being unsaid. As I walked to the train this morning, I pondered how to tell a six-word tale. At work, I challenged Kraiger to come up with his own six-word story.
So far my attempts seem amateurish. I can imply a story, but struggle to complete one. I hope I can come up with one before Kraiger does. Who else wants to give it a try?
You're still here? Wait, don't go!
Heartbroken, she had only his fez.
17 comments:
It was dark and stormy.
Tornado hits: trees felled, lives lost.
Stormy weather: swampy yard, flooded basement. (Husband and wife: tired, wet, unhappy.)
Men take some getting used to.
This is all inspired by the release of Memoirville's new six word memoir book. http://www.smithmag.net/memoirville/ where I have that essay up.
I don't know if I'd want to read a whole book of 'em, though.
"Oh hey, what does this button--"
“I love you, but--I’m dead!”
The universe settled into heat death.
A teary Britney pondered her fate.
“It’s magic! No explanation needed.”
SRS
That last one of Marie's has the idea Hemingway had, I think. It's pretty ordinary til you hit the last word, and then there's a big story you can only imagine.
I'm going to think about this myself...
Thanks. I'm stuck on the idea of the fez, because it implies something strange, exotic, more than just a heartbroken lover. But I know I don't quite have it. There's not just the lover possibility with the fez--there's also a waiter, a friend, a servant. "Come back! You forgot your fez!"
Could be a tourist, a souvenir hunter, a story in wartime Egypt, a quirky Arab friend or lover with cultural questions...
For me, reading the Hemingway one went like this:
"Yeah, whatever, WHOA."
Young girl. Fiery night. Forever lost.
Cheater, debts unpaid: hanging with Hoffa?
Sorry. Bleak mood. Ax.
Just Three Words: Worst President Ever
Over cocktails, an embittered legal student devised this:
Law degree, slightly used, never worn.
Love the presidential one...
Raw artichokes cause pencil shits. Bummer.
Yasir is so the winner here. That's a complete story, not to mention accurate.
Roy Peter Clark is copying you now:
http://www.poynter.org/column.asp?id=78&aid=136616
Similar to Hemingway, this is reportedly a real ad once spotted in a newspaper classifieds section:
For sale: Full set of Golfclubs. Call 555 5555. If a man answers, hang up.
Not quite six words but it made me laugh.
More than six words, but I heard someone say this:
He choked on a piece of meat alone in his little house.
She left town; it was raining.
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