I do have a funny story that goes with the story though. As is oh-so-typical of me, I found something unusual (odd) after I wrote it. I made up the address and I've never lived in New York City. Since we live in an age where we can look ANYTHING up in an instant, I thought I should Google the address and see what came up. It turns out that it is a real address. And get this - it's a restaurant called "Joe's Place." Geez, I crack myself up.
Peace,
Jo Taylor
Oh weird! Love it! Smiles galore! ...I wish it were longer, but I must admit, this works. You're so talented. :) Fun read. ~LK
ReplyDeleteWow - Jo, this is intriguing and wonderful. I love where my imagination is taking this story.
ReplyDeleteLove it! Any plans to continue this story?
Hope all is well with you
Margaret
Ah, so that's what heaven looks like - Joe's Place, and the brownstones of New York!
ReplyDeleteThe Pearly Gates as white picket fence, very clever. And here not so much reduced, but made more...accessable and inviting, less formal or threatening. Still a little intimidating, as any unfamiliar threshold that must be crossed is. But friendlier in a way.
I like this story, Jo. The grandmotherly tone and 'old woman' pacing contrast nicely with the concept of "flash - lightening bolt - fiction." The suspense builds naturally as the 'envelope' and its currier travel toward their destiny. Nothing more mysterious than an unopened envelope.
I chilled at the notion that the dead are deaf to the sounds of the living. I always considered it the other way around; I thought they could hear us, and it was we who were deaf to the sounds of glory. But this makes more sense. The great divide bars living information. Nothing about us can pass through the white picket fence until we ourselves carry that information over. Hmmm.
There's not much room for character development in a microstory, but Stewart's reticent, though steady, movements toward the fence clearly demostrate his curteous and respectful nature.
Kudoes on completion. It was a lot of fun. Be well.