Tag: short stories

Ghost wind, a walking house and moon stones.

A magical look west toward sails, clouds and the descending sun.

I published another short work of fiction a couple weeks ago. I wasn’t sure I wanted to publicize it on Cool San Diego Sights, but I read the story again this morning and I still sort of like it. So here goes…

Ghost Wind is the title. It’s about life. Your life, my life, everybody’s life. How invisible wind fills our sails. Read it here.

While I’m at it, here are two more that I also published not too long ago. You can find them all on my website Short Stories by Richard.

Night Walking is a story about a walking house. And dreaming.

The Specimen is about throwing moon stones. And yearning.

There.

Have a great day!

More cool sights are on the way!

Richard

A story about a dream and night walking.

Photo of suns and moons taken from sidewalk.

I’ve published another short story today. It’s a very odd tale that you might enjoy reading.

It’s about moving through the night. Or about dreaming. Or about living. It is definitely about perception.

I’ve titled this strange little work of fiction Night Walking.

And now, having arranged these few words, I will head out my door and go day walking with my camera . . . through a world that often seems a dream . . .

If you’d like read this new story, click here!

A short story about life, death and laughter.

I’ve published another very short work of fiction. This piece is titled The Fight. It’s about living and dying . . . and laughter.

Perhaps you’ll enjoy this little story. It includes life experiences that are relatable.

Getting this simple story to work has been a struggle. I published The Fight prematurely a couple weeks ago, then pulled it down. A tale about life and death should be written carefully.

And laughter is a serious matter, too!

Now I hope I have things about right.

Read the story here!

A story about a strange, bright world.

You might remember a few photographs I took of buildings reflected in puddles. I posted those last month, after downtown San Diego had experienced a night of rain.

Looking into those silver puddles was almost like peering into a strange, bright world just beyond our own. To see those photos again, you can click here.

Well, during my walk among those magic puddles a seed was planted.

That seed germinated, grew, broke through, has blossomed.

If you’d like to read my newly completed short story, which I titled The Shining World, click here.

A teddy bear and a broken heart.

I saw this on Sunday. Valentine’s Day.

I was walking past a bus stop in North Park when my attention was arrested by a large teddy bear. The bear was sitting alone at the end of the bench. I looked around. Absolutely nobody was nearby.

I had to pause to take in this strange sight. Then it occurred to me: either this cute, very loveable teddy bear had been accidentally left behind, or it had been left there intentionally.

Either scenario meant heartbreak.

It’s one small story in the city that you and I will never know.

What made my discovery really weird–almost eerie–is that for weeks I had been working on a short story concerning a similar teddy bear on the streets of a city.

Even though the story is very short, it had persistently troubled me. I knew it had potential. But I couldn’t seem to get it right.

Seeing that mysterious bear inspired me to work on the story with renewed purpose.

I published The Teddy Bear yesterday. Since then I’ve made a number of changes. But I think it might be finished. It remains painful. Like many of my little stories it has a surprise ending.

If you’d like, you can read it here.

Two short stories about Christmas.

A bit later, Santa and Mrs. Claus read The Night Before Christmas to gathered children and the young-at-heart.

Would you like to read two very short stories about Christmas?

Both works of fiction might touch your heart.

The first short story is titled A Wise Man. It concerns how we all can become jaded over the years, and how one seemingly ordinary moment can renew our appreciation of life’s preciousness and beauty. Read it here.

The second short story is titled An Encounter With Santa Claus. It’s about the spirit of Christmas. About unselfishness, not rampant materialism. Read it here.

An odd little story about dreams.

Looking roughly northeast as color creeps over the desert below.

A moment ago I published an odd little story. It concerns the nature of dreams.

This tiny work of fiction is titled Their Dream.

Sometimes it seems the world we live in is one never-ending dream. An implausible dream that has somehow turned real.

Read my strange, humorous story by clicking here and decide for yourself!

Meanwhile, have a great weekend!

Richard

A short story about a paintbrush and magic.

Anyone could participate in painting a small square in this large mural!

It has been months since I promoted my blog Short Stories by Richard, but I just now published a new short story titled Father’s Paintbrush, and I think some readers might enjoy it.

Like several other stories I’ve written, it has a surprising O. Henry-like ending!

If you’re interested, you can read this small work of fiction about life, learning and magic by clicking here.

I have more photographs taken yesterday at Presidio Park coming up, so stay tuned!

Where will I walk today? I haven’t decided!

The dilemma of creativity.

Creating a work of art presents the artist with a dilemma. How does one know the artwork is finished?

Suppose you’re a painter. You add brushstroke after brushstroke to your canvas, continually changing it. You alter a line here, blend a color there, add touches of light or dark, then stand back every so often for another critical examination. Which brushstroke makes your painting exactly right?

There is almost infinite potential in a canvas, brush and paint. But a painter must decide when to stop.

Does the artist finally stop because their creation “feels” right?

Feelings change.

Does the artist finally surrender? Does creativity meet a wall? Can the artist proceed no farther?

Human imagination is limitless.

Yes, your painting at this stage is beautiful. But why do you decide to now place it in a frame and say it’s done?

I just finished writing a short story about this artistic dilemma. And about other mysterious things. It’s titled The Wheel.

The main character in this small story is a potter.

Will I ever make changes to this work of fiction? Who knows?

Read it by clicking here.

A short story about how we are made of stars.

I finished writing another short story. This once has the simple title Twinkle.

Once upon a time I studied physics in college. Back then I learned that the elements composing you and I and the entire world were forged in the furnaces of stars. (Mostly, that is.)

A month or so ago I was out on one of my walks, moving through a poorer neighborhood, when I saw flowering weeds in the bare dirt of a front yard. And the seed for a philosophical story entered my mind.

The short story that finally grew and matured you can read here.