Mini-saga #3

Once when I was young, my dad asked me to light the stove. I didn’t know what a pilot light was, and as I stuck the match in, the flames jumped up and seared me. It was a terribly great way to teach a little girl how to be careful.

Mini-saga #2

Phaedo
Death doesn’t look so scary when it’s sitting in a cup on the table. Nor does it feel scary when what it amounts to is the culmination of life’s work. Now my soul can be freed from my body. In death I will live. In this, hemlock tastes quite sweet.

Mini-sagas

I found this blog, that this guy in London ON is doing, where every week of the year, he tackles a new project, and does something new. (Wow. I'm really bad at explaining it. Way to be vague, Jessie! You should check out his blog, though. :) http://fiftytwoweeks.ca)

But week 7 (While week 6 was extremely cool) seemed to be pretty awesome. For every day of the week, he wrote a mini saga. Which, according to Wikipedia, is, "A minisaga is a short piece of writing containing exactly 50 words, plus a title of up to 15 words. However, the title requirement is not always enforced and sometimes eliminated altogether. Mini sagas are alternately known as microstories and ultra-shorts."

I haven't done any creative writing since my last essay (The dialogue between the Boy and the Fairy Queen) so I think this would be fun to do. So every day this week I'll post a new mini saga, and see how they go. I'll start with today:

Bus
He observed the lovely weather today. I wondered if he had ulterior motives. We sat together on the bus and talked about living in Calgary. I asked open-ended questions so I didn’t have to speak. Maybe I don’t have anything to talk about. Maybe I'm just too afraid to trust.