And more recent stuff (newspapers)
Just wrote this a few weeks ago for my Writing class. We were restricted to two to three pages (double-spaced), and our prompt was change: as subtle and creative as we could make it. I thought long and hard, and am rather proud with at least the idea I came up with.
Eric Bunyards sighed as he reached the bottom of the stairs, watching the gray subway train slowly pick up speed as it left the station. If only that man at the newspaper stand hadn’t been so infernally slow about giving him his change….
“No need to worry,” a familiar voice said from behind him. He knew who it was: Rosie, who worked on the same floor as he did. As he turned, he saw her carrying a coffee cup at a careful angle away from her suit. “It’s best just to take your time and wait for the eight-ten one. Then you have time to relax and drink your coffee. Or read your newspaper.”
Rosie did not understand the overall importance of punctuality, but even though he did, they were both stuck for the next train. He followed her to the nearest bench, using the paper to sweep off the debris before sitting down.
He unfolded it to study the front cover, and she spoke up again with an air of making conversation. “Books are a lot easier to carry and read, you know. No folding required. Less messy and more interesting.”
Eric raised his eyebrows at her. “This might be less interesting, but it is more relevant and necessary reading for us, you have to agree.”
She laughed. “Oh no, I never read the newspaper.”
“- Oh,” he said.
One of the most prevalent memories from his earliest childhood was his father’s legs extending from an armchair, the rest of him hidden behind a newspaper. It was a ritual for every night without exception, and had carried the message to Eric that it was one of the most manly and important rites of adulthood. The lesson was reinforced through economics and business classes, and Eric would have no more missed picking up a newspaper a day than he would have urinated publicly.
He had known, of course, that other people weren’t so strict about it, but it startled him to think that a coworker of his, whom he knew was at least as successful as he, would never read one. Was she exaggerating? Teasing him?
“Besides,” Rosie continued, “can’t you get the news even faster online nowadays?”
This was true, though Eric had never really considered it as a substitute for a newspaper before. The novel concepts occupied his attention until Rosie asked him if his department had any sort of plan ready for the next project. Eric had been one of the primary developers for it, and so was quick to open his briefcase to pull out one of the outlines to show her.
Rosie first sighted the next train approaching. With their haste to queue up with the growing crowd, it was only when they had boarded that Eric realized he had forgotten his newspaper.
Alone, the half-folded newspaper sat quietly on the bench.
Thirty-six minutes later, a visiting college student deboarded into the station and, after a few minutes’ scrutiny, realized it was the wrong one. Frustrated, she sat down on the bench. When nothing else popped out to entertain her over the next few minutes, she picked up the newspaper. It only took her a few seconds, despite her unfamiliarity, to find the sports section, and was brightened to see her hometown basketball team had just beaten her current town’s.
A minute later, her cell phone rang. After answering and listening for a minute, she leaped to run up the stairs, leaving the pages of the newspaper strewn behind her.
A slightly ragged man with a guitar on his back came strolling down next. He glanced briefly at the mess of newsprint; a second’s hope, not quite extinguished, flared, and he pulled out the classifieds page. A moment’s perusal later, he looked up, thoughtful; then folded the page, tucked it in his shirt pocket, and resumed his stroll down the station.
The sunlight down the subway stairs had shortened by the time an old man, grunting a little with each step, made his way down. He scowled at the young people cheerfully passing him by and was muttering choice words by the time he reached the bottom. With another grunt, he sat down on the edge of the bench, looking balefully out at all around him.
A passing mother with a stroller stirred the papers next to him, and he glanced down to see a quarter page of funnies extended towards him. He lifted a hand to tug it towards him.
His eyes moved heavily across the page, his mouth stuck in the same half-open grimace that it had been in for several minutes. Then he blinked, his lips closing and opening again in seeming astonishment before his upper lip jerked slightly upwards.
"Heh. Heh."
Eric Bunyards sighed as he reached the bottom of the stairs, watching the gray subway train slowly pick up speed as it left the station. If only that man at the newspaper stand hadn’t been so infernally slow about giving him his change….
“No need to worry,” a familiar voice said from behind him. He knew who it was: Rosie, who worked on the same floor as he did. As he turned, he saw her carrying a coffee cup at a careful angle away from her suit. “It’s best just to take your time and wait for the eight-ten one. Then you have time to relax and drink your coffee. Or read your newspaper.”
Rosie did not understand the overall importance of punctuality, but even though he did, they were both stuck for the next train. He followed her to the nearest bench, using the paper to sweep off the debris before sitting down.
He unfolded it to study the front cover, and she spoke up again with an air of making conversation. “Books are a lot easier to carry and read, you know. No folding required. Less messy and more interesting.”
Eric raised his eyebrows at her. “This might be less interesting, but it is more relevant and necessary reading for us, you have to agree.”
She laughed. “Oh no, I never read the newspaper.”
“- Oh,” he said.
One of the most prevalent memories from his earliest childhood was his father’s legs extending from an armchair, the rest of him hidden behind a newspaper. It was a ritual for every night without exception, and had carried the message to Eric that it was one of the most manly and important rites of adulthood. The lesson was reinforced through economics and business classes, and Eric would have no more missed picking up a newspaper a day than he would have urinated publicly.
He had known, of course, that other people weren’t so strict about it, but it startled him to think that a coworker of his, whom he knew was at least as successful as he, would never read one. Was she exaggerating? Teasing him?
“Besides,” Rosie continued, “can’t you get the news even faster online nowadays?”
This was true, though Eric had never really considered it as a substitute for a newspaper before. The novel concepts occupied his attention until Rosie asked him if his department had any sort of plan ready for the next project. Eric had been one of the primary developers for it, and so was quick to open his briefcase to pull out one of the outlines to show her.
Rosie first sighted the next train approaching. With their haste to queue up with the growing crowd, it was only when they had boarded that Eric realized he had forgotten his newspaper.
Alone, the half-folded newspaper sat quietly on the bench.
Thirty-six minutes later, a visiting college student deboarded into the station and, after a few minutes’ scrutiny, realized it was the wrong one. Frustrated, she sat down on the bench. When nothing else popped out to entertain her over the next few minutes, she picked up the newspaper. It only took her a few seconds, despite her unfamiliarity, to find the sports section, and was brightened to see her hometown basketball team had just beaten her current town’s.
A minute later, her cell phone rang. After answering and listening for a minute, she leaped to run up the stairs, leaving the pages of the newspaper strewn behind her.
A slightly ragged man with a guitar on his back came strolling down next. He glanced briefly at the mess of newsprint; a second’s hope, not quite extinguished, flared, and he pulled out the classifieds page. A moment’s perusal later, he looked up, thoughtful; then folded the page, tucked it in his shirt pocket, and resumed his stroll down the station.
The sunlight down the subway stairs had shortened by the time an old man, grunting a little with each step, made his way down. He scowled at the young people cheerfully passing him by and was muttering choice words by the time he reached the bottom. With another grunt, he sat down on the edge of the bench, looking balefully out at all around him.
A passing mother with a stroller stirred the papers next to him, and he glanced down to see a quarter page of funnies extended towards him. He lifted a hand to tug it towards him.
His eyes moved heavily across the page, his mouth stuck in the same half-open grimace that it had been in for several minutes. Then he blinked, his lips closing and opening again in seeming astonishment before his upper lip jerked slightly upwards.
"Heh. Heh."