Looking for a challenge, dearest reader? Try writing a short story without using the letter “E.” I know–terrifying, right?! Nevertheless, do not doubt it can be done! This is my much refined and edited version of a story without the letter “E.” Enjoy!
Dedicated with love to my dearest sister. ❤
I lift a glass of sparkling soda, finalizing a toast to our happy pair. Clink-clinks of crystal cups ring in unison along with hurrahs and clapping. My sis’ anxious arms warmly wrap around my waist.
“Thank you, ” Joy softly says.
I fondly crush my sis in a giant hug.
Softly, I withdraw from a jovial throng—sinking into shadows, aloofly watching. Zig-zagging garlands of fairy lights swing in a slight wind, casting a bright aurora on a coat of grass. Soothing twangs of guitar strings drift across; lightly, a violin joins in. Frogs from a still pond croak and chirp along in lilting song. Rosy small talk and gay laughing lift into crisp night air—a rippling murmur of bliss.
My mom and aunt with cousins Ida and Lydia divvy up a stack of frosty banana muffins. My dad and Joy’s in-laws avidly discuss Mark’s missionary thoughts and plans. David, my last sibling, captivatingly plays out a colorful—and, visibly, ludicrous—yarn to Mark’s buddy, Jonathan. Audibly catching a fraction of his mirthful portrait, I find out I am both a colorful and ludicrous topic for a story. Both look around for David’s topic, as I pray for kindly shadows to swallow said topic.
Across our yard, Joy and Mark form a charming illustration—tasting muffins and painting with frosting: Joy gazing at Mark, and Mark gazing at Joy, oblivious of fifty visitors watching with broad grins.
I turn away and sink into black dusk. Ambling around our pond, I try to sort out my split thoughts. Groping for a starting point in my mind, I find a string of sibling history, a pilot for my rambling brain: riding royal stallion Joy, toasting with china cups, playing dolls—planning and wishing for a romantic by-and-by—watching Joy go away, anxiously awaiting my sis’ dwindling visits. Growing up. Growing away. Sorrow—and joy. I cast my thoughts back to now, smiling—happy and sad.
My thoughts and sights swing party-ward as I crawl back to scintillating fairy lights. A hush falls as bows and hands drop from musical strings. Hand-in-hand, our happy pair stroll onto a wood platform. Musicians pick up guitar and violin in accord and again play. Arms around Joy’s waist, a glowing Mark sways to soft strains of music, and my radiant sis follows—now and again cautiously glancing down at flats glimpsing out from an organza skirt. Two pairs of daring individuals join in, waltzing. Soon handfuls of visitors twirl as aloft hangs a luminous moon. Misty and smiling fondly, I watch from twilight.
Mark’s buddy spots my dim contour and, walking across a platform of whirling skirts and pants, slips into shadow.
“Hi, you okay?” Jonathan assays, half-light playing on his physiognomy
Both of us stand still in dim night.
“Want to go for a spin?” Jonathan holds out his hand.
I put my own hand in his comforting grip, guiding this spy into an aurora of joy. I blink in warm light.
Both of us twirl slowly on a wood floor. Raising conspicuous brows, my sis shoots us a look from amid a crowd of swinging pairs. I turn pink and laugh.
“What?” curious, Jonathan asks.
“Nothing.” Smiling, I look down at my own flats.
All was okay.