This is my first attempt at writing a short story (less than 1000 words). Instead of doing something fanciful in the comfortable language of fiction, I talk about a recent day in my life.
When the service ended, I sat in my seat for a couple of minutes while the band played a reprise of worship songs. They only played the music, and they didn’t the words. The young man next to me got up, filed past me, and walked to the front where the elders stood to pray with them. The young girl, who sat next to him during the service, also filed past and went somewhere. I kept my eyes on the stage watching Rony playing the bass guitar, Joshua at the drums, and Jameson on lead guitar; the piano player was really good, too.
I looked to my right, and exchanged waves with Laura sitting across the aisle. A couple of minutes passed before I rose from my seat, walked up the aisle, and left the sanctuary. I was in Markham, it was after nine in the evening, there was an awful amount of snowfall, and traffic was worse; bearing these in minds, the decision to go home to Mississauga was an easy one. Tom saw me as I left the room and said “Hi”, and I replied in kind. There was a crowd of people around each of the refreshment tables, and after spying on some cookies and muffins I walked down the hall to the coat check instead.
I entered the washrooms, which are across the hallway from where I hung up my coat when I entered the building. Once inside, I washed my hands, and checked if I tucked in my shirt around the back in the mirror. I left from there, found my coat, and put it on: Inside button first, top button second, then the bottom two, fix the flap of fabric along the bottom, tighten the belt all the way to the fifth and last metal hole before pulling it towards the left, make a Twice Around Ascot out of my green, black and white scarf, and fit the scarf into the opening on my coat to keep the cold out. Joyce, who was in Markham all day helping out with the event, stops to talk with me for a little while before moving on to the net task.
Later, I go through the front foyer again, and stop at a table to grab some chips when she finds me. “Hi, Phil!” she smiles, “how are you?”
“I’m fine.” I replied, “How are you?”
“I’m good.”
“How did you get here; did you come by yourself?”
“Yes.” Afterward, I notice the potato chip I snapped up is too big. She notices I’m wearing my coat, and her smile goes away. “Wait, are you leaving already?”
“Yes, I should get going.”
“No,” she says, “you should mingle, and meet people.”
“Well, it’s getting late and it was a long haul getting here from Mississauga.” I reply with an excuse.
“Okay,” she nods, “so did you write anything new in the last week?”
“Yes, I wrote a few things.”
“What do you write about?”
“I have different blogs for sports, but I keep one blog so I can write about life and other stuff.”
“Do you write short stories?” I paused to review my recent history with writing long narratives.
“I start,” I shake my head, “but it never really worked out. You seem like you have some ability in writing?”
“No,” She giggles, “I read some of your work, though, and I think you could write short stories; you should try it.”
“I think you’re right.” We smile at each other. “I should give it a try.”
I spot Ernest, who I know from the softball league I participate in during the summer, and we talk for a bit. Simon is confused about which church I go to, and how I know people here at Harvest Bible Chapel in Markham. There are two glasses of fruit punch left on the table, so I take one on the way out to the parking lot. Pastor Ted, who spoke that night, says hello as we meet by the doors to the church. As I walk through the snow, I stumble on the corner of the sidewalk but regain my balance. I get in my car and drive down Highway 7 towards home. Ben calls my cell and invites me to dinner at a restaurant in Brampton. The waitress is Natasha, and her hair is pink. I order a house salad, and I wait an hour for it to arrive. Not much happened today.
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