I wrote a very short (about three paragraphs) short story about which I'd like to get some feedback. Is this the place to put it up? I think it's pretty good, but I'm probably a bit biased. :rolleyes:

Stitchawl

this is definitely the place, yes. ;) please do post it !

OK... a bit of background. I was sitting, listening to some old Dixieland Jazz, thinking about New Orleans before the flood. I like that town then. Sad that it will never be the same.
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MARDI GRAS

After turning the corner, the marchers, costumes glittering in the nighttime neon daylight, continued down Bourbon St. She came out of Chez Louis just then. I don't remember quite how we came to be talking but before long we were making the rounds of the late night clubs together. She had never been here before, she said, but this was the time and just the right place to put herself in the hands of a new adventure. After all, what else is Mardi Gras all about?

Sounds of muted horns and tinny banjos floated on the air as we strolled through the French quarter, eating prawns from a curbside vendor, and sharing an spearmint ice snow cone, some of the juice running into her hair, making it sticky.

We went into Pappa's Place and then to Francine's. Music and whiskey, people and laughter. From Francine's, we walked down by the quays. The smell of the water mixed with the sounds of night. Lights from the boats in the harbor reflected off the curls of her hair.

We said our good-byes there. Knowing that we'd never see each other again, we made those promises that everyone always makes at times like that. Some day she would return to New Orleans, or I'd get up to Tucson. Someday.

I woke up then. In my doorway in the little ally across from Chez Louis. I always sleep there. Sometimes the janitor from the building gives me money for another bottle. Sometimes he doesn't.
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Stitchawl

Edit.

wow, that was great, stitchawl. thank you so much for sharing it ! i hope to read more of your writing soon.

Oh I like that - thanks for posting it

Thanks for your kind words. The story just sort of flowed out of my fingers. I don't think I really had much to do with it...

Stitchawl

I woke up then. In my doorway in the little ally across from Chez Louis. I always sleep there. Sometimes the janitor from the building gives me money for another bottle. Sometimes he doesn't.
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Stitchawl

Dreams are sometimes better than our reality.

I especially liked the ending as it was unexpected. Very nice, Stitchawl.:thumbsup:

Wow! Those few sentences contain as much emotion as a poem.

Now you must develop it further and tell us how he got there, where his memory or dream of her came from, who was she, what happens next....