Story Cards is something I've been thinking about for a while. The idea is that I would sit down and write a short, unplanned piece of fiction on the back of a postcard and mail it out. After enough time had elapsed for the card to reach its destination, I'd post them online.
Like most of my ideas, I wound up deciding to go ahead with it late at night and with no planning. I suppose I mean that as something of an excuse, but I am cautiously pleased with how this came out. The words below are not an exact copy of those on the card, but the changes are minimal
This first card was sent to my dear friend Kris, who has already been the recipient of my fiction-by-mail in the past.
Story Cards is a new project where I write brief, spontaneous works of fiction on post cards and send them out.
Though the time didn't really matter 40 feet below street level, it was just before six when the lead digger broke into the chamber. Theirs was the third shift, and they would work until midnight. However, this day would be quite different as the pickaxe struck and the wall crumbled releasing the surprising smell of fresh air.
The lead digger called for light and a candle was brought. There was no fear of natural gas here, the subway surveyors had told them the way was clear. A deft and dirty hand skillfully lit a match and light danced off the clear eyes and dirty faces. The hand reached forward and found a nose, eyes, and a face in the darkness. A stone face, sloped in dejected mourning. The statue is old, not ancient, and its face resembled that of the Mediterranean workmen that stare back at it, meters underground.
The lead digger met the statue's eyes, and followed their gaze upward seeing street lights and stars at the end of a long shaft.
The municipal records show that some 64 years previously, when this neighborhood was a small but prosperous community on the edge of a burgeoning city, a small bill was passed to honor the Greek heritage of the people. A strange proposal was selected -- that of constricting an elaborate statue of Daedalus, the genius and labyrinth builder. Once completed, it would be placed at the bottom of a specially constructed 40 foot shaft.
Later, a grill was placed over the top by the department of sanitation and promptly forgotten. After its rediscovery, the subway planners decided that, rather than move the statue, they would work around it -- placing it at the center of a nest of stairways and tunnels.