Poetry and shorts written after 12/2/2010 by Sam McGuffin are organized here. Each poem or short story will be structured by date, where the newest will reside at the top of the queue. Thanks for reading!
8/26/2011
Archetype
[Flash Exercise: 5 minutes]
Archetype stood with his feet shoulder width apart, back
turned to the heavy oaken door of his office. He stared out the wide glass
panels with dark eyes, questioning the relevance of the rising sun as its rays
attempted to warm the concrete city below. He watched as men and women exited
yellow cabs and walked to work. He examined them all, studied them in the corners
of his mind.
The door opened and closed behind him and the sliding of loafers
signified the approach of his assistant, Will. As Will approached the glass,
Archetype extended his right hand and accepted a pen and notebook. Will turned
around and left the room. Archetype began to write. He created columns for the frail
and strong, focused his vision to properly identify their sources of power and weakness.
A homeless man caught his attention as he crossed the
street. Greasy hair and garbage bags decorated his appearance. He approached a
nearby vehicle and tried to lean inside. He held up a cardboard sign as others
passed him by. He sat on the curb of the sidewalk and stared incoherently at a
series of manikins.
Archetype finished a sentence on the notepad and set it down
on the wooden mammoth of a desk behind him. He reached out a hand, as if to
grab the man through the glass, and pressed his fingers into a compact fist. He
squeezed and turned his hand, tightening the grip with the muscles in his
forearm.
Below, the homeless man let out a soft, brittle cry of pain.
He lurched backward off the curb, and landed on the sidewalk shaking. Those
that passed by glanced at him, questioning, but moved around his body and continued
onward.
Archetype regathered his notepad and flipped the page. He began to imagine the world, as if he could soar around the skies and examine every man, woman, child. His hand furiously scrawled down identities, categorizing every one. His fingers twitched, and the glass in front of him appeared to vibrate. Again, he set down his writing equipment- especially careful this time.
He stretched out his arms, and slowly brought them together, forming fists with his hands and then crushing the air inside them.
Archetype regathered his notepad and flipped the page. He began to imagine the world, as if he could soar around the skies and examine every man, woman, child. His hand furiously scrawled down identities, categorizing every one. His fingers twitched, and the glass in front of him appeared to vibrate. Again, he set down his writing equipment- especially careful this time.
He stretched out his arms, and slowly brought them together, forming fists with his hands and then crushing the air inside them.
Commentary: I'm very rusty. In the five minutes it was a struggle to produce this- my thoughts rushed together and I couldn't create a steady plot idea to follow with good interest. When I finally developed the "Death-Note"-esque idea of a man that writes about and watches other humans as if a god present on earth, I couldn't pull off a powerful enough climax to the piece.
12/2/2010
Escritor de Invierno
[Haiku]
Fingertips numb, cold
Keyboard on fire, word count met-
Writing through winter
