This short story was written during a class I had in high school called Writer's Workshop, during a regular practice of the class called a Freewrite, wherein our class would begin with a 15 or 20 min. session that involved a piece of paper, a writing utensil, and whatever you wanted to write. And there was usually some music, too. It was part meditation, part pure expression, and I credit it nearly single-handedly with my development as a writer. As I've mentioned before on this blog, I'm mainly a poet, but here is a rather entertaining short story piece of my juvenile literature.
Once upon a time there was a squirrel. His name was Alfred. Alfred was a pretty normal squirrel, except for one thing. Whenever there was a full moon (no, he didn't turn into a werewolf-squirrel thing) he would get amazing superpowers. How he was so fortunate no one knows, but he was of a special breed of super-squirrels.
One day poor Alfred was crossing the street trying to prepare a stash of acorns for the winter when out of the blue a reckless teenage driver on his way to school ran a stop sign and crushed our super squirrel into the asphalt. Why not use his super powers, you ask? Well, because it's not a full moon yet dumbass. But Alfred was in luck, tonight there would be a full moon and his eye that didn't get run over had caught the license plate number of the reckless teenage driver: WATCHIT.
The full moon began to peek out over the roof of the house whose yard Alfred's tree was parked in. He could feel the positive energy of the moonbeams recharging his power (and scaring away all of the maggots that had bothered to pay his decaying body a visit). In one great blast of moon powered energy Alfred sprung from the asphalt, rejuvenated. Now it was time for action.
I would like to end this entry with a quote by Stella Adler. "Life beats you down and crushes the soul and art reminds you that you have one."
