A triptych is a fiction-writing exercise. The writer composes a short story in three parts or panels, usually from varying narrative voices, that incorporates one or more specific literary techniques. This triptych is an exercise in stream of consciousness narration, non-linear chronology, description, and sentimentality.

I.

January 3rd, 2004

“Please keep your seatbelt securely fastened at all times during the flight. No smoking is permitted at any time. Once we have reached cruising altitude, the pilot will turn off the seatbelt sign, and passengers will be free to move about the cabin.”

I looked at Dad’s watch. Four thirty two. Charlie shouted,

“Only seventeen miles to go.”

He was laughing, but it wasn’t funny. The whole Jeep was full of dust and my helmet strap was pinching my neck, so I unclipped it. He always did that — laughed when everyone else was swearing and hating their lives. I could taste the dust from the road. I could taste the wheels and the hot exhaust. The captain swore at some Iraqi kid next to the road, and Charlie was laughing about something, and we were all coughing up dust and sweating and swearing.

The stewardess’s voice came mechanically through the small white speaker.

“In the unlikely event of a loss of cabin pressure, oxygen masks will drop down from the panel above you. Pull back the elastic strap to place the mask over your nose and mouth. Although the bag will not inflate, oxygen is flowing…”

Night pressed against the waiting plane, huddling amid thick flakes on a snowy taxiway. View Full Post

Ella Hansen lights a Christmas candle and imagines the newborn Christ child.

When pieties are said, and lamps go dim,
That only moon and star touch midnight snows,
Beneath the shelter of a quiet hymn,
The first spark flickers, and a candle glows.
          Did He whose strength kindled the fires of sun
          See with such wide eyes candle-flame begun?