Whistler Writers’ Group short stories 

In May 2002, Stella Harvey formed The Whistler Writers’ Group, affectionately known as The Vicious Circle, to support aspiring writers in the community. The group has been a raging success with over 40 members gathering each month to read, chat and critique each other’s work. The collective is also responsible for an on-going and incredibly successful series of public readings and workshops. This story is the first in a series of eight short works of fiction that will be presented at the Celebration 2010 literary event. The event is sponsored by the Government of British Columbia, the Resort Municipality of Whistler and the Whistler Arts Council and will run on Feb. 22 nd and Feb. 23 rd at 8 p.m. at Uli’s Flipside in the Creek.


Lost Summer

Andre, Jordy, Hayley Collins, Martin Stefaniuk and some other people I recognized, but didn’t really know, were dancing in the purple glow of the mosquito zapper. They smiled and laughed and bumped into each other spilling their drinks on sandaled and bare feet. They all looked so happy. A bit drunk and wasted too maybe, but then, so was I.

I stood on the path practically hypnotized by watching them. I wanted to go over, but I was afraid I might break the spell. And I didn’t want to ruin their fun. Or mine for that matter. So I just kicked off my flip-flops, wiggled my toes in the grass and moved my hips and arms a little where I was.

Hayley was tugging on Jordy’s shirt, pulling him toward her then pushing him away in one of those silly dances from those fifties movies like Grease . The jive, or the jitterbug or the jerky chicken. Once in a while, they’d do a hip-hop move but mostly they swung each other around or ducked forward for little hugs and grabs. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him look so happy. He had a smile plastered across his face and his whole body seemed lighter. He was even managing to look like he knew how to dance. Usually he made these sort of small, jerky moves like he was constipated.

One time, I even caught him practice dancing in front of his mirror. He was totally horrified. So was I. Not that I’d caught him, but that he thought he was actually dancing. I was afraid of embarrassing him any more than I already did, so I just said it looked like he was having a blast and started doing some fly girl stuff beside him. But he thought I was making fun of him and pushed me out of his room and slammed the door. I really wanted to give him pointers so he wouldn’t look like a complete doofus, but I knew that would have made it way worse. It was nice to see that he’d somehow figured out to look like he had rhythm. Or maybe it was all the party snacks that made it seem that way.


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