Here is another of those two-sentence stories with poetry added. I’m thinking of them as “Minuscule” and quick to read.

Read the first Minuscule, the explanation of why I wrote it and got started on this idea, and search under the category Fiction/Poetry Combination for others in the series.



A low roaring sound drew her forward and she opened the heavy door to step into the huge dim room, moving up to the half wall and looking over the expanse of wooden floor, a single row of scarred wooden benches snaking off into the half-darkness on either side of her.

Isabel was alone in the vast empty space, yet she heard the rumble of roller skate wheels, the laughter and the shrieks, the music from scratchy speakers, the occasional thud as a skater slammed into the wall; she felt the effort of lifting her own heavy feet as she made her way to the floor, four wheels on each skate joining the rumble as she stepped into the flow of all the skaters who had ever done a circle around the rink, and she glided off with them.


the place it was born
it returns
in circles
time and distance no matter
Come with me, it says

(Shadorma 51)

Misty Memory small

Misty memory, mail art postcard.

8 thoughts on “Memorial

  1. The way you’ve conveyed the sense of trepidation is great and I like the way the sound of the low but loud rumble of the skaters contributes to that sense of anxiety. You’ve brought back happy memories of roller skating.

    • Thank you. When I was young it was popular to roller skate and we had a couple of rinks. I even had a couple of specific skating outfits, to wear to skating parties…

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