A short, short, short story

A friend has a link on her blog to another interesting blog–this all sounds so incestuous–called Six Sentences. Just what it sounds: Stories, about anything, that are only six sentences long.

I decided to try my hand at it, with words from a woman I met months ago, that have stuck with me… I also tried not to cheat by using semicolons. Fittingly, my six sentences went up this week. They go like this:

    Diplomacy, 1994

    by Jina Moore

    After the killing started, the diplomats met. The couldn’t agree on what to do, except to remain seized of the matter. While they seized, their expats evacuated. The Belgians took their aid workers, their peace keepers, their pets. A Rwandan woman held a little girl on her hip, watched them load a golden retriever into a UN truck, thought to herself, The life of a Belgian dog is worth more than the life of my child. No more mzungus in Kigali.

(For the record, it’s historically inaccurate to suggest that on that day the last white person left Rwanda. But unlike every other bit of writing I do in my life, this site, not portending journalism, allows a little creative license.)

4 Comments

  • Rob says:

    Dear Jina,

    A terrific, important piece of writing. I hope you’ll visit the site often and share your talent. Thanks so much!

    Sincerely,
    Rob

  • quin browne says:

    this was a wonderful piece… it holds for me so much of what i fear, we look, we shudder, we move on, the shame of what we do causing us to allow it to continue.

    thank you for writing it, for sharing it… it adds to my resolve to continue to shout, to hold forth what is there. do not forget. do not let it go. do not close your eyes and walk away. it is here, it is now…

  • quin browne says:

    ps i’ve linked you on my journal… i hope you don’t mind.

  • jina says:

    Quin, thanks, and thanks for linking.

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