Showing posts with label Wall Street. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Wall Street. Show all posts

07 December 2013

Microfiction Combo Pack

  Here are three microfiction (100 words, or less) stories written over the last two weeks (OK, I wrote two of them, and came up with the third by re-working an older story). They were written for a contest run by a friend on The Facebook.

  I don't usually write this kind of stuff, and wasn't going to enter the contest, but a few ideas popped into my head (you never know when, where, or how inspiration will strike). Each story had to contain the words "rattling" and "wall."

  Enjoy.

- Bud

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To Be, Or Not To Be

  Every day, for as long as he could remember, Bartleby awoke with the same questions rattling against the walls of his weary brain: Would a person be considered suicidal if he simply didn't care if he woke up in the morning? If he were disappointed by the realization he had to struggle through at least one more day before he could finally lie down and die, ending the spiral of pain and confusion life had become? If he sometimes contemplated an act he knew himself too chickenshit to actually commit?
  Grudgingly, he rose to endure yet another day of emptiness.



Those Who Cannot Remember the Past
                                                 
  The insatiate gathered above Wall Street, on gilded balconies overlooking the rabble – the indebted; those without jobs; those left homeless when the housing bubble burst, and so many banks collapsed, rattling the economic security of the middle-class – the self-proclaimed 99 percent. They laughed, took pictures, and mocked the people; toasting the disaffected with champagne sipped from crystal flutes. They were among the elite in a world of margins and algorithms; puts and calls; dollars and cents. But, insular, and blinded by their greed, they could not feel the heat of a fire whose glow already lit the horizon.



Fallback Guy

  "Please," she cried, grabbing him.
  He avoided her gaze as her fingers sank into the fabric of his jacket.
  "Please, kiss me," she pleaded. "I know I hurt you. But, I love you. And, if you kiss me right now everything will be OK."
  He looked into her eyes. Everything he'd wanted stood before the wall he'd built; the words he'd desired to hear rang in his ears. And, the memories of every time she'd hurt him; of every time she'd disappeared; when she'd chosen someone else, rattling his sanity, flowed through his brain.
  "I can't," he said, turning away.

16 October 2012

Those Who Cannot Remember the Past

This is my entry in the 2012 Short Short Fiction Contest sponsored by Esquire magazine and the Aspen Writers' Foundation. The story had to be exactly 79 words - to celebrate the 79th anniversary of Esquire.

I have included the photograph - a still taken from a 2011 YouTube video of an Occupy Wall Street march - that inspired the story.

When I saw the blonde woman toast the protesters, I immediately thought about the attitude and words attributed to Marie Antoinette - "Let them eat cake!"

I recalled the warning of George Santayana - "Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it." I thought about last year's protests and uprisings in Greece, London, Rome, and throughout the Middle East. And, I thought, if it can happen there, it could happen here as well.

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Those Who Cannot Remember the Past
By Bud Koenemund

  The insatiate gathered above Wall Street, on gilded balconies overlooking the rabble – the indebted; those without jobs; those left homeless by the housing bubble – the self-proclaimed 99 percent. They laughed, took pictures, and mocked the people; toasting the disaffected with champagne. They were among the elite in a world of margins and algorithms; puts and calls; dollars and cents. But, insular in their greed, they could not feel the heat of a fire whose glow already lit the horizon.

17 October 2011

Those Who Cannot Remember the Past

This is my entry in the 2011 Short Short Fiction Contest sponsored by Esquire magazine and the Aspen Writers' Foundation. The story had to be exactly 78 words - to celebrate the 78th anniversary of Esquire.

I have included the photograph - a still taken from a YouTube video of an Occupy Wall Street march - that inspired the story.

When I saw the blonde woman toast the protesters, I immediately thought about the attitude and words attributed to Marie Antoinette - "Let them eat cake!"

Then I recalled the warning of George Santayana - "Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it." I thought about the events that have taken place this year in Greece, London, throughout the Middle East, and now in Rome. And, I thought, if it can happen there, it could happen here as well.

I don't agree with everything the Occupy Wall Street protesters are saying/demanding, but I understand where their anger is coming from.

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Those Who Cannot Remember the Past

They gathered on the gilded balconies of Wall Street, overlooking the rabble – the indebted, those without jobs, those left homeless by "the bubble," the hopeless, the hungry – the so-called 99 percent. They laughed, took pictures, and mocked the people as they drank champagne. And, being well-schooled in margins, puts and calls, dollars and cents – but less so in common sense – they could not feel the heat of the coming fire; the glow of which already lit the horizon.