Symbolism Archives - James Kirst Short Story and Novel Blog

Short Story Saturday: Red Roses and Russian Roulette

Posted on June 29, 2019December 3, 2023 by jkirst

Hello everyone! As part of Short Story Saturday, I have posted another short story, this one entitled Red Roses and Russian Roulette. Please enjoy.

She found herself trapped in a room devoid of any portal to the outside world. Each of the featureless walls loomed above into darkness and felt somehow as if they were closing in. A distinct odor wafted through the air. The smell of roses. It reminded her of melancholy and despair. Her eyes darted in all directions but was having trouble seeing. No illumination was offered save for the lone light bulb hanging dead center in the room. It swung on its own as if it were swaying in the wind despite there being no breeze. Eventually, though difficult to see, she saw the table lying in the middle of the room being flanked on opposite sides by two wooden chairs. Someone was sitting in one of them.

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Short Story Saturday: A Cabin in Winter

Posted on May 11, 2019December 3, 2023 by jkirst

Hello everyone! As part of Short Story Saturday, I have posted another short story, this one entitled A Cabin in Winter. Please enjoy.

It is the dead of winter. Snow descends slowly and the bitter cold can be felt even through the man’s many layers of furs. His head feels frozen despite the raccoon skin hat covering it. The thermal mask he scavenged from one of a multitude of putrefying bonds that litter the mountain trail does little to keep him warm as well. In his hands is a giant ax. On his back are a rifle and a rucksack.

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Short Story Saturday: An Artist’s Passion

Posted on April 20, 2019December 3, 2023 by jkirst

Hello everyone! As part of Short Story Saturday, I have posted another short story, this one entitled An Artist’s Passion. Please enjoy.

“You don’t understand, Dad, art is my life!” the son screamed.

“I understand more about life than you’ll ever know!” was his father’s retort.

A chair flew across the kitchen floor as the son rose abruptly from the kitchen table. He ignored the yells of his father and the pleading cries of his mother as he stormed into his room. This was the aftermath of yet another argument between the father and son over the boy’s grades.

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Short Story Saturday: The Tower

Posted on April 6, 2019December 3, 2023 by jkirst

Hello everyone! As part of Short Story Saturday, I have posted another short story, this one entitled The Tower. Please enjoy.

A pair of adventurers approached an oblong, white-bricked tower. The two had journeyed from afar and had overcome many perils to arrive that day. What Arthur sought awaited him at the top of the tower. Dangling around his neck was the most valuable thing in the world to him, a silver locket given to him by his queen. He looked over to his wizard friend and heaved a deep sigh. Initially, he did not wish to anyone along on this journey. The man acquiesced, though, when Merlin told him that entrance into the tower was impossible without his assistance.

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Short Story Saturday: The Journey

Posted on January 19, 2019December 3, 2023 by jkirst

Hello everyone! Back on schedule this week. Hat tip to my father for giving me the prompt for this story. As part of Short Story Saturday, I have posted another short story, this one entitled The Journey. Please enjoy.

A faint bit of moonlight poked through the dark clouds and thicket of tree branches dangling overhead and served to illuminate my path. As I tenuously trekked, I wrapped my arms around my coat. It was not a response to the cold, though the wind had picked up and the temperature had dropped significantly as the night approached the witching hour. No, it was due to the fear induced by my hostile surroundings.

Wolves inhabited those coppices. Their howls were barely audible at first but had grown noticeably louder and angrier. They were savage. Merciless. Cruel. They would not hesitate to eat me alive. Those beasts had indeed claimed many a traveler. Only the most brave or foolhardy ever dared to walk that trail. There was no alternative, though. It was the only time when I could meet her. I needed to see her again.

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Short Story Saturday: Christmas Eve in Utqiagvik

Posted on December 22, 2018December 3, 2023 by jkirst

Hello everyone! As part of Short Story Saturday, I have posted another short story, this one entitled Christmas Eve in Utqiagvik. Please enjoy.

I’m sure most diners get out-of-town visitors all the time. Sure, I mean, I’m sure every eatery has its regulars but a stranger coming in to dine would hardly be a momentous occasion for most. The visitor would have to be quite the character to leave an impression. However, when you live in my neck of the woods, or should I say, tundra, all you have are regulars so a visitor definitely leaves an impression. I will say, though, it is doubtful that anybody would forget the man who came in a few nights ago.

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Short Story Saturday: Non Morieris in Somnis Memorias

Posted on December 15, 2018December 3, 2023 by jkirst

Hello everyone! As part of Short Story Saturday, I have posted another short story, this one entitled Non Morieris in Somnis Memorias. Please enjoy.

I’m walking through immaculate streets and surrounded by large and luxurious homes, monuments of better days. This place was once vibrant and full of life, now sterile, and empty except for the leaves blowing in the wind. A looming clock tower stands in the center of town. Its ticking hands reverberate inside my skull each passing step perpetually reminding me of the inexorable nature of time.

I am exhausted. Mentally. Physical fatigue is impossible here.

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Short Story Saturday: An Amusing Tale of Scriptwriting

Posted on November 24, 2018December 3, 2023 by jkirst

Hello everyone! As part of Short Story Saturday, I have posted another short story, this one entitled An Amusing Tale of Scriptwriting. It‘s quite a bit less sad than last week’s story but hopefully just as enjoyable. Original writing prompt taken from https://www.writersdigest.com/prompts/one-shot

The click of the pistol’s hammer woke me. A velvety voice lilts out of my vision, “Give me a good catchphrase and I just may let you live.”

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