I saw a course listing for a writing class and it said you had to submit a three page short story to be considered. On a whim I opened a text editor and composed this terrible little story. There was no thought, no plot, and it is certainly not three pages. I’m just posting it because otherwise I would throw it away.

We approach the Protagonist on a hot spring day. Spring, yet snowing. The snow appears yellow. It is not snow at all, it appears to be sand. Interesting. The Protagonist appears unfazed. He is circumventing the natural order in his mind.

Our Protagonist stands by the bank of a river. He glances around at the vast expanse, sees people behind him but only water before, an insurmountable barrier, an ever-flowing yet immutable obstacle, an unforeseen wrinkle in his most carefully laid plan.

And yet, the Protagonist is unfazed. He looks around again. He stops. He scratches his bearded chin. He stands, he squats, he perches, he totters. He grabs his walking staff for support. He smiles.

He stands, he struts, he moves forward…slowly, but with a power his people had not before seen. A few whisper questions, ask questions aloud, shout questions, but the Protagonist does not speak. He is committed, he is calculating. He is ready for this, his greatest act.

He stands atop a rock, shields his face from the sun and sand, and looks at the river ahead, the army behind, the ever expanse of yellow leading to a yellow sky as the yellow sun creeps slowly lower.

It is time to act.

He raises his staff and thrusts his arm outward, upward. He shouts words in an ancient tongue. He leaps about comically. And, amazingly, the water begins to part. You see he is wearing one of those new-fangled digital watches.

You wonder what time it is. You hear a ring.

You hit pause. Pizza is here, Charlton Heston will have to wait.

(It might have helped had I seen the movie)