Stories

           The bit and pieces of my stories have a habit of squirming away, but right now I've started a short story. My mom and dad say that I used to have two toy rabbits. One was gray and one, called bunny, who I still have, that's brown. I lost the gray one a long, long time ago. I decided to write a story about what happened to him. It starts like this:

The Lost Rabbit

                The gray ghost of a childhood that could have been clambered out of the trash bin. He shook the scraps of shredded letters and cigarette ash out of his fur, barely stopping to mourn for his former companion. As far as she knew, there had only been one. Bunny the Rabbit. Fur as brown as chocolate milk—the only kind she’ll drink. Fur that was permeated with the scent of memories. A serious frown (for it was years to come before her mother gave him the ability to smile like did in her eyes.) and shiny black eyes that she liked to think focused and saw things. (Which he did.) She had suspicions, of course, mentioning a bizarre dream or two where there were ‘two Bunnies’. They couldn’t come back for him. (Once a toy got thrown away in an unfamiliar place he or she had to disappear, it was the law.) Not now.

           I've written a bit more after that, but I think I might branch out in another direction with this. I am going to finish this. Eventually. Oh and I've decided to name the gray one Rainy Rabbit. I might introduce Bunny later into the story too. Any suggestions would be awesome.