Descriptive Story Telling Excerpt

I never thought the small town of Ava, Oklahoma, could hold so many stories—until I realized they were all mine. There’s an unusual beauty to the way the sun rises over the dusty café on Main Street, and the way Julie Stevens serves coffee to the regulars like she’s dishing out lifelines. As I scribble furiously in my weathered notebook, the ink soaking into the pages like spilled coffee on an old tablecloth, I can’t help but wonder: is this it? Will my chronicles of Ava—where gossip flows faster than the river that runs at the outskirts—ever reach beyond the battered fences of our quiet little town?

Each day feels like a canvas, stretched tight with the familiar shades of beige and brown. My neighbors’ lives unfold like a series of a dry humor television series—comfortable, but uninspiring. Yet, as I watch Mrs. Connor snip her roses with the dedication of an artist, I find myself searching for the extraordinary in the ordinary.

Still, I can’t shake the feeling that my dreams—those “larger-than-life” big visions of literary success—are as far away as the stars that shine over the faded red barn at dusk. Here I am, a small-town girl hunched over her notebook with a head full of stories and a heart full of doubt.

In a world cluttered with news that is anything but ordinary, I’ll keep carving my small piece of truth into the landscape of Ava. Hoping one day someone else might see the light beyond the routine, but for now, it’s just me, my ink, and the weight of a dream that I can only hope will someday come true.

I am pulled away from my self-dwelling thoughts when I hear my name being called from across the café. I shuffle through the unmatched furniture to the counter and force a grin when Julie hands me my coffee and says, “You know Ronnie, all that caffeine isn’t good for you”. It's a line she repeats every single morning, and yet I can’t help but smile at her concern—how sweet and sincere she is, as if her words are just as much a part of my routine as ordering my extra-shot hot coffee. It’s comforting in a way, like the scent of fresh coffee and the familiar clatter of cups echoing around this small café. It’s a little ritual we share, symbolic of the way life ticks steadily forward in this town where change feels rare, or even nonexistent.