Wednesday 21 October 2015

A Postcard from Dublin

For audio click here.
In class last week we had to write a story about a departure. We then for homework had to reduce the story to just four lines. Here is my story and its reduction. Which do you like best?

‘I’m going,’ she said.
‘You can’t,’ he smiled, buttering his toast.
‘I am,’ she said.
‘You won’t,’ he hadn’t even made eye-contact with her.
They played out this little charade regularly.  Clarissa threatening to leave, Clarke nonchalant, knowing she wouldn’t follow through.
Once or twice she’d even got as far as slamming the door, but minutes later he’d heard a key in the lock and she’d come back in.
‘Give me three reasons why not?’ she said. He looked up from his toast and looked at her, one hand on the door handle, the other on her hip; that was his favourite pose. 
‘Aren’t they obvious?’ He said.  He bit into the toast, his smiling eyes watching her every movement.
‘No,’ she shrugged, her eyes also filling with a smile. But she wasn’t smiling at the same thing as he was; not this time.
They held the stare, neither blinked.
‘You won’t go,’ he said.
‘Goodbye.’
Clunk.
There was something in that clunk, something definitive. It wasn’t a slam or a bash just a calculated clunk. He may not have realised it then, but when he played the scene back in his mind over the next few days, he certainly heard the tone of that clunk.
She’d be back, she always came back. She wouldn’t leave him, not like this. This was her game, an annoying game true, but somehow endearing. And he’d be sitting there waiting with that I told you so grin on his face when she walked back through the door.
7 minutes, she was good.
12 minutes, a new record.
3 hours, this was special.
But she’d be back, she always came back. She couldn’t leave him, not like this.
24 hours and 12 minutes.
36 hours and 48 minutes.
40 hours and 8 minutes
But she’d be back, she always came back. She couldn’t leave him, not like this.
54 hours and 19 minutes
68 hours and 9 minutes.
A postcard from Dublin.


A postcard from Dublin. Version 2
“I’m going.”
“Heard it before.”
“But this time I mean it.” Clunk.

He waited… in vain.


5 comments:

  1. I like both stories, but the 4-line one does not express what the ending of the longer one reveals: the yearning, the emptiness and the protagonists feels after his lover left him. I think that counting minutes and hours is such a powerful ending to the story... says much more then the words "Only when she left he realized that missed her terribly".

    BTW. She left him with no explanaion, and no break-up line (like for example "You thought all I do is bark, Clark"), which in turn reminded me of one of very funny Steve's rants:-)

    http://garethsshortstoryblog.blogspot.com/2013/10/did-paul-simon-get-bored-and-give-up.html

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thanks, no it doesn't but the title helps. Maybe the ending should be, he waited, in vain, then the postcard arrived.
      Actually the original ending to the first version was
      A postcard from dublin
      "I told you so."

      Delete
    2. haha:-) not a bad idea too:-) he keeps saying that but it is her who gives it the power.

      Delete
  2. Having nothing better to do, I am youtubing and I have just been listening to this song:
    https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rwRScXqKoXY

    It made me think about this story and what might happen in 5, 10 or 20 years time. That's the song Clarke can sing then :-) (I know I already, a long time ago, put this song somewhere in a comment under another story but I like this song and I associated it with this story too). Like your story, this song makes you think: Why the hell did she leave him?

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  3. Petra Goláňová24 October 2015 at 10:15

    My favourite lines:
    There was something in that clunk, something definitive. It wasn’t a slam or a bash just a calculated clunk. He may not have realised it then, but when he played the scene back in his mind over the next few days, he certainly heard the tone of that clunk....
    24 hours and 12 minutes.
    36 hours and 48 minutes.
    40 hours and 8 minutes
    But she’d be back, she always came back. She couldn’t leave him, not like this.
    54 hours and 19 minutes
    68 hours and 9 minutes.
    A postcard from Dublin.

    ReplyDelete