Tuesday Writing Essentials: The harsh light of truth

Filed in Gather Writing Essential by on March 30, 2011 0 Comments

We were told to write of diamonds. Here is my off the cuff entry:


It is a dark room, dusty with the light filtering in through dirty windows. A man sits giggling over an object on the desk. Occasionally he moves and sparkles fill the room. He hunches over and grimaces as the boots of another man can be heard on the floorboard. The door squeaks as it opens and another man enters the room. He looks as the desk and walks over, his heavy boots muffled by the rotting wood.


“What is that?”

“Nothin’. Go away.”

“Bret. Show me what you have in your hand.”

“I ain’t gonna Cal! These is mine. I found it!”


Cal cuffs Bret across the head and Bret crumples to the ground. His falling arm launches a small dark off the desk. The bag hits the wall, falling to the floor with a soft thump spilling the contents. Bret scrambles to the bag and grabs it, shoveling the shiny rocks back in to the dark leather interior.




Bret goes flying again as he is kicked in the side. The bag drops once more but it s picked up Cal. He opens the bag and looks in, the small rocks catching the rays of the sun.


“Now Bret, how did you go and get something like this?”


A click can be heard behind Cal. Cal turns to see Bret on his feet and holding a six shooter.


“Put it down Cal! Them be my rocks!”


Cal doesn’t answer. He just inhales sharply and glances to the side. Bret moves his head for a split second to see what Cal is looking at. A loud boom fills the small space.


“Why Cal?”


Bret crumples to the ground, holding in parts of his body that should never see the outside. Cal stands there, one hand holding the bag and the other holding a six shooter. He grabs one of the rocks and goes over to the window and scratches the surface. Nothing happens.


“Dang it Bret! These aren’t even real. I can’t believe you made me shoot you over a bag of fake diamonds.”


Cal pours the bag over Bret and stomps out of the little shed. A blast of hot air hits Bret as his slowly weakening eyes watches the man ride off in to the the desert on one of their horses. Bret reaches for the rocks and takes one, inserting it in to his mouth and swallows. A few minutes pass as his body starts to heal, the wounds knitting themselves and the fog clearing from Bret’s head.


“They ain’t diamonds ya idjit.”


Bret knew that now, but he didn’t think he knew that before. Something had changed and something was speaking to him in his mind. The same something that had told him to eat a diamond while he lay dying. Within an hour Bret is walking and things were much more…clear. Things are changing and Cal would soon learn just how much…

About the Author ()

I am a some what witty creative writer with a very dry sense of humor. I tend toward the fantastical, reading and watching sci fi and fantasy. I play guitar and own a banjo. Occasionally I sing...

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