59 words

I submited both in a 2002 "Fiction 59" contest. Exactly 59 word, not including the title. The second got published, but I like the first one best.

Elwood’s Grass

Elwood couldn’t see much. I hollered hello and he said, “Who’s that? Can’t see or hear well enough to tell.” Yet he knew the lawn needed mowing.

I argued, “Taller grass shades the ground, keeps the roots moist.”

“I dunno.”

Though quieted by the mower’s growl, Elwood remained unsatisfied until he got the first whiff of fresh grass cuttings.

Grandpa’s Wooden Box

Spent carbine shells, letters, jewelry machined from aluminum casing, insignia ripped from fallen foes’ uniforms. Artifacts of war. Horrors and delights in Grandpa’s wooden box.

“That’s an ear in your hand. Cut it off a dead bugger,” Grandpa said.

Nausea churned deep in Jack's 11-year-old gut.

Much later in life, Jack learned he was really holding a Navy-issue condom.

Copyright © 2003 Dennis Edward Freire