American Pixels Winner: Lisa Snider
The American Writer is proud to announce LISA SNIDER as the winner of the first American Pixels Photo-Story competition. Congratulations, Lisa! And thank you to all who submitted. There were some interesting stories told.
I chose Lisa's because she thought outside the box and approached the story from a perspective that included the image as an integral part of the story. Her story is published here today. She also wins a $25 Gift Card to Barnes & Noble, which she will receive in the next day or two.
And now. Without further introduction:
Is it a woman’s story or a man’s story? It’s not a dog’s story. Well, it could be a dog’s story. It most certainly is not a cat’s story.
I think the photographer who took that picture wanted us to know he was sad. This is a dark lonely place without color or laughter. Someone cared enough to plant a blooming vine on that trellis, but they never gave it water. The lights are on but nobody’s home. That’s not a statement about anyone’s intellect. That’s a fact. All these lights spinning the electric meter around, but no one there except the photographer to see his way through the parking lot. That would make me mad. And leery. What kind of place has all these lights on and an empty parking lot? Heck, I’d park my car right next to my motel room door, too, with the car facing out. Just in case someone came along and wanted to pick a fight. Just trying to get some shut eye and some thug comes along wanting to empty my pockets or something. No sir, I can get right in my car and drive off. Leave this place all alone just like I found it. You can have it.
Yeah, you’re right, that makes no sense. That’s not his car. Bank took his car back. He’s not trying to get some shut eye; he’s trying to get some tail. She parked that way because more than once she’s had to get out of a tough situation. Fast. Grab the money and run. Drunks, meth-addicts, weird fetishes. Try putting a car in reverse when some lunatic without pants is coming after you with a switch blade. “I told you to paint your toes red,” he screamed while sliding across the hood of her car and tearing off her windshield wipers. Never again, she said. Park facing out. Every time. Red toe nail polish? Who has time for pedicures? Not me, she thinks. Got to pay the bills. Got to get enough cash together to put a first and last on my own place. Sick of shacking up with those losers. Leave their dishes in the sink till they stink. Drink all my milk.
But this guy’s not so bad, she thinks. He even lit a smoke for me. As long as he keeps that camera off of me and doesn’t ask me to talk baby talk to him. He’s not that kind of guy, though. Nope, this one’s easy money. He said I was pretty. I believe that about as much as I believe he’s Richard Gere, she thinks.
So he had his way with her and while she’s in the shower he decides to take his camera out for a walk. He goes out the door and scares an alley cat off the hood of her car. Stupid cat, he thinks. What’s he hanging around here for? No one’s here, no one’s going to feed him. He walks across the parking lot thinking he’ll get a shot of this alley cat. But it’s gone.
Maybe it is a cat’s story.
THE END
And thank you Robert X. Jones for the amazing shot that inspired this story. The next American Pixels competition will be held in a couple of weeks. I'll post the Robert X. Jones photograph this week on Friday, April 22.
Until then. . .onward.
I chose Lisa's because she thought outside the box and approached the story from a perspective that included the image as an integral part of the story. Her story is published here today. She also wins a $25 Gift Card to Barnes & Noble, which she will receive in the next day or two.
And now. Without further introduction:
Lonely Motel
By Lisa Snider
Is it a woman’s story or a man’s story? It’s not a dog’s story. Well, it could be a dog’s story. It most certainly is not a cat’s story.
I think the photographer who took that picture wanted us to know he was sad. This is a dark lonely place without color or laughter. Someone cared enough to plant a blooming vine on that trellis, but they never gave it water. The lights are on but nobody’s home. That’s not a statement about anyone’s intellect. That’s a fact. All these lights spinning the electric meter around, but no one there except the photographer to see his way through the parking lot. That would make me mad. And leery. What kind of place has all these lights on and an empty parking lot? Heck, I’d park my car right next to my motel room door, too, with the car facing out. Just in case someone came along and wanted to pick a fight. Just trying to get some shut eye and some thug comes along wanting to empty my pockets or something. No sir, I can get right in my car and drive off. Leave this place all alone just like I found it. You can have it.
Yeah, you’re right, that makes no sense. That’s not his car. Bank took his car back. He’s not trying to get some shut eye; he’s trying to get some tail. She parked that way because more than once she’s had to get out of a tough situation. Fast. Grab the money and run. Drunks, meth-addicts, weird fetishes. Try putting a car in reverse when some lunatic without pants is coming after you with a switch blade. “I told you to paint your toes red,” he screamed while sliding across the hood of her car and tearing off her windshield wipers. Never again, she said. Park facing out. Every time. Red toe nail polish? Who has time for pedicures? Not me, she thinks. Got to pay the bills. Got to get enough cash together to put a first and last on my own place. Sick of shacking up with those losers. Leave their dishes in the sink till they stink. Drink all my milk.
But this guy’s not so bad, she thinks. He even lit a smoke for me. As long as he keeps that camera off of me and doesn’t ask me to talk baby talk to him. He’s not that kind of guy, though. Nope, this one’s easy money. He said I was pretty. I believe that about as much as I believe he’s Richard Gere, she thinks.
So he had his way with her and while she’s in the shower he decides to take his camera out for a walk. He goes out the door and scares an alley cat off the hood of her car. Stupid cat, he thinks. What’s he hanging around here for? No one’s here, no one’s going to feed him. He walks across the parking lot thinking he’ll get a shot of this alley cat. But it’s gone.
Maybe it is a cat’s story.
THE END
And thank you Robert X. Jones for the amazing shot that inspired this story. The next American Pixels competition will be held in a couple of weeks. I'll post the Robert X. Jones photograph this week on Friday, April 22.
Until then. . .onward.
Posted by Tom Eubanks at 4/18/2011 4:34 PM 
Categories: Short Fiction, Author! Author!, Pixel Stories, It's Published--Period
Tags: Writers Who Write Storytelling Pixelation
Categories: Short Fiction, Author! Author!, Pixel Stories, It's Published--Period
Tags: Writers Who Write Storytelling Pixelation
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