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    Stories in Three Short Minutes for the Short on Time
    Stories in Three Short Minutes for the Short on Time
    Stories in Three Short Minutes for the Short on Time
    Ebook110 pages1 hour

    Stories in Three Short Minutes for the Short on Time

    By Michael TT Williams

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    About this ebook

    Short stories designed for people who enjoy stories but are short on time and like to be thrilled and delighted quicky. They have the Williams' signature style which is a bit Twilight Zone with unexpected twists and surpises even in the way the words are used.   A mixture of light and dark but each a unique original tale from the most extra-ordinary imagination.   Designed to hook you immediately and get you thinking.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherMichael TT Williams
    Release dateDec 23, 2023
    ISBN9798215144367
    Stories in Three Short Minutes for the Short on Time

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      Book preview

      Stories in Three Short Minutes for the Short on Time - Michael TT Williams

      Forward

      In common with many writers I imagine, when writing, I begin with a complete idea and then construct the narrative in outline, chapter by chapter, before filling it out. Structure is crucial as is a clear direction of travel towards a specific conclusion. I took a quite different approach with these stories.

      I travel a lot by train and I tend to get restless towards the end of the journey. So, during those times I set myself the following challenge. To write something then and there, having given the matter no thought beforehand whatsoever, just making it up on the spot. That's how these stories were written. Obviously, there was a bit of editing later. But, substantially they took a few minutes to write on average from the moment of conception and they can be read in the same timeframe.

      The Elevator

      As I looked around me, my first thought was that I was in an elevator. On the other hand, if that was the case, then this was the largest elevator imaginable. At a glance, there must have been forty or fifty people around me and we were not packed in tightly.

      We were standing and facing a copper coloured sliding door that was maybe five times larger than any I had seen. The walls were decorated by tasteful depictions of, I guessed, holiday destinations. One looked like Hawaii and one was clearly of Hong Kong harbour with junks in the foreground and the mountain in the background. There was another picture, unmistakably of Cape Town with the omnipresent red hue of Table Mountain with and some revelers winding their way along Fisherman’s Wharf. 

      We were moving.  I could feel some shuddering but, oddly, I couldn’t really discern the direction of travel. It did not feel like ascending nor descending and neither was there any sense of momentum along a plane. 

      Probably the thing that grabbed my attention most starkly was that nobody was speaking, just facing forward. I was the only one, whom I could discern, was moving his head. The allure of the pictures seemed lost on everybody else.

      I wanted to speak but, and I am sure you just won't understand this, I couldn't think of anything to say. Then the obvious question popped into my head and, again, this will seem strange to you, I sort of heard my words, yet wasn't conscious of actually speaking. If my mouth moved, I was unaware of it. But what I asked was,

      Does anybody know where we’re going? I will tell you that, for a reason I can't explain, I was surprised to get a reply, from the man standing two ranks to the right of me. He looked like an office worker with a slightly stained grey suit and a striped tie but didn’t turn his head.

      We're going to life. His reply left me none the wiser, so I asked him to repeat his reply, which he did again without looking in my direction. But, still, I was no clearer about our destination. Then I felt a small tug on the sleeve of my arm. A very small elderly lady with silver grey hair who was standing behind me said 

      You’re on your first time back, so you won't have any memories. You are a first soul. 

      I must have looked very puzzled because she leaned towards me slightly with a reassuring expression. She added,

      You are returning to life for a visit. Not for a long one, just a short breather, literally. You’ll get a set of memories when the doors open. It's a mixed blessing. Once you've been back a while, it’s a terrible wrench having to give it up again. It’s almost impossible to bear.  It’s such a long wait ‘till the next one and you become filled with such a terrible longing.  I understand why many don’t do it. But I couldn’t bear never to take a breath again or to never hold another hand.

      The elevator shuddered again. I was lost for words yet I had hundreds of questions. But before I could articulate a thing, the lady pointed to the picture of the Golden Gate Bridge and said,

      Whatever else you may do, tell them to make the most of every day. Most don’t listen. But some hear anyway.

      One more shudder and the elevator stopped with a vague thud.  The doors opened and my lungs filled with air, the first air in a very long time in fact. Then I realized that until that moment I had been seeing with my eyes closed while drawing into my lungs the first air in a very long time. I opened my eyes and what I saw took my breath away!

      Beyond Morden

      The metro hummed. There were only two of us left in the underground carriage. Everybody else had alighted, stop by stop, and now the two of us were seated bang next to each other. There was just a plastic armrest between souls. We were Strangers, excepting that we had shared the journey, without speaking. And still we didn't speak. In fact, there seemed compelling reasons not to say anything, although what those reasons might have been would be hard to identify and articulate.  He was older than me. Perhaps seventy or so and wearing a long grey speckled coat and a black scarf. I couldn't see his face clearly. That would have required turning in my seat and looking at him squarely. That is just not done in such circumstances. It could come off as threatening or a prelude to....I'm not sure quite what.

      There are not many rules about how to behave on a metro train. Not the written down kind. But there are a lot of things that are just understood, beyond common courtesy, that I

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