Going to the Dogs

I’m working on a few different short stories this week. The latest one is built off this simple plot line:

A dog lover is suspected of an unprovoked attack. Events are made difficult by an accident.

I’m struggling a bit with the dialogue, but I have an opening sentence, which is this:

The garden of raindrops is a thought that beckons the soul.

The whole story takes place in Vohampwick, a small town filled with small people who have small dreams. Except for the hero, of course.

Here are a few character names for the story. I envision them being husband and wife couples that live in the same town as the protagonist.

Woodward Fearnley and Alice Fearnley

Marcel Bonnet and Ami Bonnet

The whole story is partly inspired by the following poem.

A Lemon on Tuesday

Tenacious late afternoon and the burned-out bottle
coagulate at the walls of my house
the gleaming alcoves conquered
I’d do it for the sphere in which you enchant?
For the miracles of transluscent opaque sepia you’ve crystallized
the mud
winged imbroglios are abducted
around opaque sepia water and sunburst orange smooth stones.
Like calcerous breakfast: corals!
Within the dull shades of burnt umber agony of the receptacle?
To the lyrical color of the silken atom,
in sand-colored?
Water and cashmere kisses
and around my hammock, during the lunchtime, I woke up naked?
And full of respect.

 

 

 

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