I’ve written a few sort of micro stories as a result of some writing workshops I’ve taken. I’m going to begin with one I wrote at Citywrights, a playwrighting conference held in Miami. We were lucky to have playwright Leslie Ayvazian leading the workshop, a warm, kind, and brilliant woman.
Leslie gave us the prompt: “I knew…”
That I was happy.
That the day would be hot. Right now the air was moist and warm and full of grass, flowers and bird song. I knew I was hungry and that I could climb into my red sunsuit. My diaper would not budge and made a strange sucking sound when I tried to pull it off, and a bad smell emitted from it. So I decided to let it be. My sunsuit was in the dirty clothes hamper, but I wanted to wear it; I knew I looked good in it. So I pulled it out and struggled into it. I knew I could fasten it, but it was hard.
Everyone was still asleep, I knew, so I must make my own breakfast—saltines with P&J. I knew first we eat breakfast, my mother always said. After breakfast, I climbed on the counter and stretched for the backdoor’s lock. The lock had 2 parts, a knob you had to push up while you at the same time had to turn another knob. This was tricky, especially precariously balancing leaning most of the way out from the high counter. Success achieved–I knew I could do this, I’d done it often enough–I climbed down from the counter, out the door, and down the stairs to pure freedom.