Stories on Cards #6, A Greeting Card Project

Stories on Cards is a project that I completed earlier this year that I would like to share. I began with a blank greeting card and a pen. I would write a story that was improvised, rather than planned. I would need to complete the story by the end of the amount of space allotted inside of the card. Then I would type up the content for my own records and mail the original card to a friend. It’s a great writing project and a good way to connect with friends, rather than the mundane, recycled greeting card entries. None of the stories are perfect, but I am happy with the result of the project, I learned a lot as a writer.

“The Hockey Player”

“I need to stop being so confrontational”, is the inner monologue expressed by Devin as he is mid-headlock, his chin, a fulcrum between the other player’s forearm and bicep. This is not the first time this has happened.

Honestly to me, he looked like a bottle cap ready to pop off its neck. I think to fully understand how he got here, to what most people would call a revelation, let’s flip the calendar back a couple of months.

It is standard for most adults to become less confrontational as they mature and grow up. However, for Devin it became all about trying to burn as many bridges as possible at this point in his young life. Granted, while most of the burning was metaphorical, there was one incident down at the creek.

Devin was down by Steven’s creek, spending time with one of his good friends. This was the same small creek that they had ventured to biannually with their parents. It was on this occasion that Devin got it in his mind to make a molotov cocktail. You know, the one that you always see in movies being hurdled by the gangster at the store front, or towards some other innocent bystander who “had it coming”.

His friend was not privy to this information, he merely received an ominous text to “meet by the tree in the usual spot”. Trusting Devin’s judgement, he obliged.

When Devin arrived, his friend was passively texting some acquaintance he had hoped to get to know better. His friend turned toward him as Devin pulled out the concoction with a rag sticking out like a waving flag of ironic surrender.

Needless to say, his friend was a little more level-headed when Devin proposed that they “throw it at that douche from the hockey match’s car”. Devin lit a cigarette calmly and cooly. That is when his friend grabbed at the bottle hoping to chuck it off the dock. There is a struggle. Devin grits his teeth hard, breaking the lit cigarette off onto the exposed cocktail. There is a scream, a flash of light, and a mouth agape.