The godfather at the local break sat his listeners down as he preached from the back of his van to share one more key to his version of life.
“It’s all in the conversation,” he pointed out. “Take this one guy. He wanted to be with this girl so badly, that he woke up at 5am just to join her morning session. He tried to convince her that he was as experienced as she was in the water, but she saw through his stories. She told him later that she just wanted to be friends.”
“Some guys chat from the moment they get their toes wet. They talk while they paddle out. They talk while sitting in the lineup. They talk while you’re trying to paddle into a wave,” the godfather added. “If they’d talk less, they’d catch more.”
“There’s nothing you can do when high tide turns the break into a swamp,” the godfather continued, “I can’t tell you how many guys end up watching and talking before walking to the closest coffee house to talk some more.”
“All I can say is…” the godfather paused as if he had changed his last point in mid-breath, “make your words count and paddle more.” He ended his surf-sermon, hugged his listeners, knowing that he would get to preach again the next day.
Thanks for taking the time to read my story. Some people are just more artful at conversation than others. Mike, the surf teacher is a real person and a real storyteller. People like him produce a lot more smiles in this world. Isn’t storytelling and conversations make life more exciting? I appreciate your feedback, and if you like my content please share it.
Check out the Steller version here.
Or should I say Jenny-wrecked? Jenny was the name of Ben’s tiny boat. Ben drove Jenny out to the harbor on calm days to have a few beers with either Phil or Stan. They both have said on many occasions that they would end up steering the boat back to the marina after Ben had one too many.
But this night, Phil was out of town and Stan’s wife said that Stan was “unavailable.” So this night, Ben decided this was the perfect night to spend with Jenny, a stack of CD’s he bought at a garage sale, and a case of beer. It felt like he would have the serene harbor all to himself.
Somewhere past 6th beer, Ben saw that Jenny was wandering out of the harbor and into the open sea. Then he thought that it was simply a dream. “I’ll just keep napping for a little bit, then I’ll wake up and take Jenny back home,” Ben told himself.
Ben woke up to blinding daylight and the thunderous blast of a water crushing the side of Jenny. In one motion of panic and bewilderment, Ben leaped off the boat onto the beach and ran towards small crowd that had gathered to watch the beached boat.
I don’t know how Ben managed to escape without a scratch and pull Jenny out of shorebreak, but he did. To this day, Jenny sits on a trailer in Ben’s driveway. Ben shares his story with anyone willing to listen: a story about his night with Jenny, a stack of CD’s, and a case of beer.
Notes: Thanks for reading. I plan on sharing a 1-minute story every Monday. I appreciate your feedback. Do you like my fictional stories more than the poetry? Do you prefer the fiction over the articles with words of encouragement? Thanks again!
For the past few years, on every weekday morning, he sat by his apartment window to drink and think over his carefully prepared coffee. However, for many weeks he pondered life outside his urban maze. This day, in his quiet sanctuary on the 2nd floor he heard rural whispers as an image appeared on the surface inside his cup.
He stared into his cup, picked up his phone, and called the office. He notified that he wouldn’t return for another week. “I’m not OK, but I will be,” is how he ended the conversation. Instead of heading to the office, he began to pack his backpack for his unplanned trip beyond the city’s boundaries to find the place he saw in a cup of coffee.
Thanks for reading my 1-minute fictional story. I wrote it a couple of years ago on Backspac.es and breathing new life to it on my blog. Please comment below and share your thoughts on this story. I appreciate your feedback.
The 3 latest quotes from El Gran Queso:
“The only thing you are entitled to is a headlock. “
“I am going to get food truck and sell knuckle sandwiches.”
“The only place it’s ok for a dude to wear tight pants is in the ring.”
Just an hour earlier the wedding singer zipped through the city like a wedding singer should if he is running late to his gig. He glanced at his to-do list on his phone and was determined to make it to the wedding reception in time. He picked up his suit at the dry cleaners, grabbed a cappuccino 4 blocks further, and bought breath mints & water at the gas station 7 blocks after that. His band greeted him with boos and smart remarks, but they were ready to rock the reception. Their opening set was a smashing success with the wedding guests begging for more. The wedding singer looked out the window overlooking the city, and the sinking feeling overcame him as he noticed his pockets were empty. Where did he leave his phone?
Thanks for reading my latest 1-minute fiction. If you like my content, please write your opinions and thoughts in the comments below. I appreciate your feedback.
They had searched for each other for many weeks after their first encounter in this coffee shop. He had been in line behind her when she realized she left her wallet at home. He kindly offered to pay for her latte. She accepted and smiled and stared for one second that seemed as long as their own favorite love song. He replayed the memory in his head a million times. He was just looking for a decent mocha before his appointment nearby. He didn’t live anywhere close to this part of town, yet he came to the coffee house almost three times a week afterwards, just to see if she would be ordering her drink. This day, he sat at the table wide enough that there would be enough room for her. He didn’t realize that she had been waiting in the window already scanning the sidewalk for the man she desperately wanted to meet again. After many minutes of both of them pretending to be there solely for a cup of coffee, it merely took the sound of a cup breaking upon the floor to get the two to turn around and engage eyes one more time. He knew there may not be another chance. “Nice to see you here again…”
Thanks for checking out my latest 1-minute fiction. Your feedback is important and appreciated. Please share your thoughts and comment below.
Charles went to work hours early before dawn to get a heads start before everyone else. He convinced himself that if he was more productive, then his historically dreary work days would feel more meaningful. He crept in the lobby door and started up the stairs towards the workroom when his first step sank into a mound of sand instead of a manmade step. “It’s a beautiful day for a walk,” the elderly stranger said as he gingerly stepped past Charles down from the beach. Charles stared at the old man speechless, yet a million and one thoughts raced through Charles’ head. The million and second thought was interrupted by the sound of waves that crumbled towards him. Charles took another cautious step up towards the water. Gulls flew overhead beyond the ceiling that blended into the sky. Charles smelled the air. It was salty. He looked towards the horizon and saw men surfing in the distance. Charles took off his shoes and took bigger strides up the sandy bank. He said aloud, “If this is a dream, I don’t want to wake up for while!” Charles continued his walk up the beach with an easy stride and a hopeful smile on his face.
Notes: Thanks for taking the time to read my latest 1-minute story. I am collecting my stories and poems into a book, so your feedback is appreciated.
“Whoa, get a load of that!” the voice announced as Martin and Cheryl looked up at the huge wooden vessel that docked in the place of where their weekend yacht used to stay. The couple stared astonished and enchanted at the same time as the deep and weathered voice bellowed out again,”C’mere me beauty! We’ve been waiting an eternity!” Cheryl without hesitation began to walk up the ramp towards the ship. Martin quickly followed her to the deck immediately looking for a camera and a television host with microphone in hand to reveal this elaborate prank conspired by his mischievous and resourceful neighbors at the marina. There was no such conspiracy this day.
As the two surveyed the deck, Martin and Cheryl found themselves unraveling the ropes that tethered them to the dock. The voice shouted more commands and a multitude of men shouted, “Aye aye, captain!” The sea of voices shouted back and forth like an eerie song, yet there was no one to be seen. As the dark vessel separated herself from the dock, Martin and Cheryl looked at each other with bewildered eyes as they both recalled that a couple and their yacht disappeared exactly a year ago. The last words that echoed through the marina was “All hands on deck,” and the couple and the unseen crew all grabbed scrambled for to their positions as the ship named “The Wanderer” moved towards the open waters.
Notes: Original pirate ship image shot with iPhone 5. iPhone 6 captured my friend Attila jumping at his Golden Rise Instameet last year. Edited with Union app and Mextures.
It’s the beginning of the NBA season again, and my beloved Lakers are giving me a million reasons not to stay beloved. This is going to be a long season. While I am doing a lot of cringing, sighing, and throwing household objects at the wall, at least I can dream of my own highlights. I think if you are a fan of basketball, it is hard not to have your own ESPN highlight scripted in your head.
FIVE….. Down one with just a breath of time left on the clock. The arena is deafening. Stalling at the top of the key, he steps forward with the dribble. The defenders are scrambling, anticipating the final play.
FOUR…. His first step down the lane is met with bodies with the opposite uniforms collapsing on him. He seems trapped in the sea of bodies enveloping around him.
THREE… His crossover causes an entire squad to shift the wrong way in unison. One defender and 15 feet of space between the ball and the net is all who is left to deny him of the W.
TWO.. He pump fakes with time slipping away. The defender bites and jumps high in the air with bad intentions but is now airborne and not able to use his length to block the shot.
ONE. He jumps fading away out of the outstretching arms of the opponent. His hand flicks the basketball towards the orange cylinder. All eyes track the ball arc through the air.
ZERO- The buzzer is barely heard over of the pandemonium of the home crowd screaming with joy. The TV announcer screams, “Nothing but net! He won the game! He won the game!”
Why did I get out of the game so quickly? I just stood there like a tree. I should have jumped to my right, but Adrian was looking right at me and I froze. He kicked the ball right at me, and I was an easy target. Callie is watching this game. Tommy said that she likes me. This time I am going to stay in the game for a long time. Someone get out now. I’m next. This time I won’t get out. Adrian can’t be the best in the game every time. I hope the bell doesn’t ring. Not yet. Not yet.