Kiteley exercise 137

Kiteley presented a number of quotes from some known authors and asked the writer to use them as a jumping off point for a short excerpt of fiction. This one is especially short on my part, don't know why. Won't worry about it, though.

The quote I picked comes from the amazing Ernest Hemingway. Call him a misogynist or an alcoholic. His writing still amazes me.



"One hot evening in Padua, they carried him up onto the roof and he could look out over the top of the town..." He sat perched above the city like a breathing gargoyle, his appearance not much softer than the monsters made of stone.

Umberto stayed with him but moved to a corner of the roof where he puffed thoughtfully on a cigar and ran his fingers along the brick walls, silently willing them to move.

Samuel had no such desires for walls to crumble. But the rooftops, he though, left much to be desired. No kindly old men delivering gifts, no beautiful maids bathing in the moonlight, no signals in the sky calling for a hero or heralding a savior.

The air was still and dry. Every now and again, a gust of wind hit him like the opening of an oven door, but otherwise nothing moved. After counting and then recounting tomatoes in the neighboring rooftop garden, he became aware of Umberto's labored breathing. His companion had finally succumbed to the heat and the night and perhaps would find a few hours of solace in his dreams.

Samuel resisted sleep. His dreams frequently carried him back to a life he'd never regain and sometimes he'd awake with a soft thud as if he'd almost been carried away from this reality. But this reality always set in. It came with the sun and brought traffic jams and burnt coffee.

He hated reality. Hated it almost as much as he dreaded those fleeting moments where he thought he might be freed from it.



This exact exercise is on page 177 of Kiteley's book. I encourage everybody to pick it up for him or herself.