Tales From Fiction Writing Class

Tales from Fiction writing class

Write a scene where a character has certain traits but those are never stated out but are made clear to through actions and dialog.

Traits: Jealousy, Ambition, and reflection 

Himmberton was not normal the type to give people much of a second glance, but he guessed today was different. It was probably because he had skipped lunch and his growling stomach was affecting his mood. 

The large crowds of people in the park were starting to make him feel little. The bench he was occupying was no longer comfortable but it seemed that there were too many eyes on him so he decided it would be better if he remained where he was. 

He scanned the crowd for anything that would capture his attention.

 There were two men dressed in suits, laughing while admiring their fancy watches as they gleamed in the sunshine. Himmberton didn't like those men. Sure, he loved shiny things as much as any creature, but they were being so showing about it. They were probably greedy and had gotten them by stepping on every bug that crossed their path for the fun of it. Bad men. They didn't deserve shiny things. He could afford one of those watches after a few months of working at the ice cream shop, but his money was suited for better things. He always served men like them in the store. Big, hoglike mounds of flesh, feasting away on the homemade ice cream. Then leaving a mess and no tip. 

After another moment, he couldn't take it anymore and looked back down at the grass. A Black Prickly Caterpillar towards his foot.

"Good Afternoon," Himmberton said in the most cheerful tone he could muster. " Is the weather being good to you?" The caterpillar continued its path towards his shoe.

"Oh! Allow me to help you up here." He picked up the little crawly awkwardly, trying his best not to scare it as he set it down on the other side of the bench. " There you go. We can't have you getting trampled now."

Himmberton looked away from his new comrade and back at the people in the park. 

"You know, the more time I spend here, I start to see why they prefer to be indoors," he said quietly. 

The caterpillar sat still in its spot.

"Oh, don't be like that! Look! At least the little ones are alright." Himmberton pointed to across the grass, where a group of little girls were chasing after a butterfly. 

He looked back down the caterpillar, hoping to see some reaction but the caterpillar remained at rest.

" I know you're right. Things can't stay this way. Say, I could use a hand with all this. Why don't you come with me? If you're so passionate, then you should do your part."

At that, the Caterpillar started to move again and crawl towards his lap.

" That's the spirit. Come on, we're burning daylight." In a quick swoop, Himmberton picked up the Caterpillar and dropped him into his front pocket. " I'm really glad I met you. I was having the worst day."

The two of them rushed out of the park and back towards the city to get started on Himmberton's plane. You see, Himmberton was no ordinary man. His body was actually a robotic human suit being piloted by a small bug. Soon all humans would pay for their misdeeds against his kind.

Tales from fiction writing class

Something you remember but you’re not sure why

I don’t know why I remember the light brown mushrooms that would sometimes grow by the flagpole. 

Sometimes, in the early hours of the morning, when I would be a safety patrol at my elementary school, it would be my job to raise the flag outside at the front of the building. The pole was surrounded by a circle of concrete that was surrounded by a circle of yellow and purple marigolds. On the side closest to the building, occasionally, there would be a mushroom that would grow there. 

Somedays, I would walk over it and try not to notice it, giving it only a sideways glance. Then, somedays, I would enjoy stepping on it and feeling my shoe softly squish it down into the dirt. I would never touch it with my hands because it could be poisonous and it would get in my mouth and kill me. 

I stomp it down then wait a month for it to regrow then I stomp it back down. Then the school gardener found out about it constantly regrowing and pulled it out by the roots and I was sad.  

Carpet in the Sand

This is an original poem that I wrote about three years ago, right after I graduated from high school.

Salty air ruffles tents and our clothes Our friends lay in the sand on these late July nights. We chat and smoke and fall in love with the stars All our paths intertwining with one another’s again.

And my mind thinks of you and wishes  that your’s had never separated from mine.

I become drunk on the song of the waves,  imagining your lips muttering “ What a lovely view.”  

Tales from fiction writing class

Write a scene where the characters are talking about an issue without actually stating it.  

We stood outside the bar, my mother and I. It was starting to rain, but she was smoking, so we couldn't go inside yet. I was slowly becoming miserable. 

"Can I go inside?"

"Gimme a minute. I'm almost done."

I didn't speak and she took another drag.

"How'd you start smoking anyway?"

"Your grandma."

Silence and a drag followed.

"Are you done yet?"

"Just wait… Jesus," she answered, angrily.

Silence. Drag.

"I really don't like this… you know," I said.

"What? Me smoking?"

"No."

The rain was still lightning falling. It reminded me of the end of a garden hose. How even when you stand under it, you never feel wet.

My mother finally spoke."Well, I do."

"I can't see why."

She took a last drag and threw the cigarette down without fully putting it out first. "You're too young to understand."

"Or maybe you didn't teach me well enough to understand."

Silence. No drag. "If you don't like it, then don't come next time."

I felt like crying. "If you're unhappy, I understand. But you can stop and do the right thing. We can do something and try to fix it. It's like when you remodeled the kitchen. You…".

She cut me off then. "The problem isn't in the kitchen, it lies in the foundation. Once the foundation's cracked, there isn't much you can do."

I wish I hadn't brought the topic up. "I don't think the foundation is cracked. I love our house. I want to save it."

Before she could say anything, the door to the bar opened. The bartender walked outside and came towards us. "My shift's over. Imma head out."

My mom turned towards him, happily saying, "Are you sure you can't stay?"

I turned away from them. I heard him say, "Yeah, but I'll see you around."

The joy in her voice died. "Around?"

"Yeah. So… bye."

They were quiet for a moment. 

He got into his car and turned on the engine. The radio started blasting some profane rap song. Once he was gone, we looked back at each other and I decided that it was time to head home. I walked to the passenger door of our car. My mother didn't say anything and walked slowly to the driver's door.

We started on the fifteen-minute drive back home still in complete silence. I decided to finally speak. "You know, even if the foundation of our home is cracked, you can't move into one of the fake room sets at IKEA."

She didn't say anything. Perhaps I had gotten to her. We pulled into the driveway and saw that my dad was already here.

my soul feels sick and i wish i knew what to do

Oh J

Even when I try to leave

You pull me back. 

Perhaps if I was a better poet, you’d like me for.