My humble entries:
Shandon and Idiala by Alan Rosenhan Shandon gazed forlornly into the tinted windows of the Wendy’s, scornfully eying the red shirt Idalia was clad in, the red shirt that kept them apart for two hours a day after school. His eyes cast themselves earnestly across the emptied dining room, stopping but for a single halting moment, distracted by a sallow mark on an otherwise glossy Bakelite dining table. Or was it Formica? Perhaps particle board covered in Masonite? He did not know, all he knew was that these tables lacked the high cheekbones, delicate nose, and sparkling green eyes that his Idiala had. The classy yet reserved décor of a Wendy’s restaurant could never compete.
Lacta and Bruno DeFiglia by Alan Rosenhan
“What else is on my shopping list?” Lacta asked herself. She always spoke in the first person, Lacta felt that speaking to oneself any other way was demeaning. “I have a limited budget this month and I have to choose between buying these delicious red strawberries, coruscating as rubies can in only their wildest ruby dreams, or purchasing these soft, velvety kiwis with skins like chamois, so firm to the teeth yet so easily yielding to the tongue.” The grocer, Bruno DiFiglia, stretched his hand, stained purple in the juice of millions of tantalizing blueberries, towards her.
Casparella and Baseball by Alan Rosenhan
Casparella loved baseball. The sensuous turns of the hips of the champion home-run hitters, the smooth, tight grain of the ashen Louisville Sluggers they wielded. Her favorite part, however, was the chalk lines leading both to and away from home plate. The pure, authentic white of the chalk simply gleamed from the vermillion of the base paths. No doubt the bedazzling white of the lines were beacons, taking successful hitters away from home and after, guiding them safely back. How they shone afore the emerald grass! How the contrast between the verdant turf, the rouge of the infield dirt, and the immaculately hoary lines stirred her heart!
