Tuesday, 30 September 2014

Five Sentence Fiction - Confusion


Here's me rushing again to get my Five Sentence Fiction in before the opportunity passes, because this weeks photo and word are too good to miss. And talking of missing, this reflects me missing London life.


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She stood in the middle of the station concourse and let them all rush around her; thousands of them, going and coming, all with such purpose; their strides long and fast, some buffeting her, a few tutting at her deliberate positioning – in their way.

She could feel them, their energy, and she sucked it up, wishing she could pull it in and thrive on it, give her some purpose, some direction, some focus, but no such luck; they took it with them to spend on their day and she would be left here alone, wondering.

What was it like to know who you were, where you were going, what you were doing, what you were worth, and how you were going to spend your life?

In that moment they all looked like they knew, although she was sure it was just an illusion, dressed up in suits and briefcases.

They might look like they had somewhere to go everyday, somewhere to be – even someONE to be, but inside many of them felt just like her: drifting.   




Daily Picspiration - Liberation

For my lastest Daily Picspiration I struggled to come up with anything from the photos, or at least anything I liked or that I felt I wanted to write. So, after two lines appearing, I decided to go for a poem. It's been a long time since I have written poetry - several years in fact, but I'm happy with how this turned out. Hope you are too. 

Posted on September 28th, you can read 'Liberation' here.




Thursday, 18 September 2014

Five Sentence Fiction - Grief

This weeks Five Sentence Fiction photo pulled at my heart strings and a story had to be written.


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He knew he didn’t fit, and would never belong - not in this world. He was shunned and ousted, rejected from all corners - even from those that were suppose to protect and care for him.

And every morning he would wake and put on the mask of indifference that gave him strength. And he would hold his head up and face them, striding through his day as though he were one of them.

But sometimes, when the night drew in and the endless dark of loneliness descended, he would allow the mask to fall, and succumb to the pain; letting the hopelessness overwhelm him, while his body wracked with sobs of grief.  


Monday, 15 September 2014

Daily Picspiration - No Relief

I was a bit late in writing my Daily Picspiration piece this week, only just getting in on time. And the downfall of doing this is not being able to leave the piece overnight to do a final proofread, hence typos and missed wording crop up a couple of times in this posting, and as our wonderful administrator and leader Miranda Gammella is on holiday, I am not going to bother her to make changes.

I used both pictures, I had this story in my head for much of the week prior, I was eager to get it down. It is a perfect dark tale, even if I do say so myself. Enjoy!


Posted on September 14th (my birthday!), you can read 'No Relief' here.

  

Thursday, 11 September 2014

Horror Bites - Caught

The new Horror Bites photo prompt took a while to inspire me, as this sort of horror isn't normally my thing - ie. vegetation related. But I thought about many other great tales, like The Plant by Stephen King, and my mind started ticking it over. Here's what came.


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Janice stuck an elbow into George, causing him to jump. 

“George’s it’s doing it again,” she hissed. “Can you hear it?”

He groaned, turning over, and, mumbled, “I wish you’d take a damn sleeping pill.”

“George! I’m serious; this is the third night now. Listen!”

The dark bedroom filled with silence until a creak was heard, followed by a thump.

“Did you hear it?” Janice whispered.

“Yes, but it could be anything; the fence in the wind, a tree branch swaying. Honestly Janice, go back to sleep.”

Janice lay in the dark listening. She knew it wasn’t the fence; she’d checked it yesterday, and there were no trees close enough. There was a telegraph pole, but she couldn’t imagine how it could make that sound. It was like something – or someone – was taking giant, deliberate steps.

She started to count between the sounds, but they were so rhythmic they lulled her into sleep.

In her dream she could feel someone pull at her. She tried to move away, but her ankle was caught. She was worried because there was a storm coming, she was sure of it; the sky had gone a funny shade of green. Then there was a gargling sound. It was really nasty; she could feel it in her throat, but yet she had no trouble swallowing. Then she was yanked again, and something was brushing her arm.

Her eyes flew open, and she grabbed George’s hand, which was flailing in front of her. As she did so, she saw the other one pulling at something round his throat – and the gagging sound was coming from him.

In the lightless room her eyes made out something dark and fuzzy covering the bed. Then another tug on her ankle made her stretch up behind her and flick on the light.

The sight it beheld made her scream; Ivy covered the bed, its vines spiralling round her legs and travelling up towards her. As they pulled tight she knew she’d be garrotted like her husband - and there was nothing she could do about it.  

346 Words







Saturday, 6 September 2014

Lucky Ones - Unpublished in Sirens Call eZine - Apocalyptic Fiction

http://www.sirenscallpublications.com/
A strange heading you might think, why would I promote a piece that didn't get put in the eZine? 

Well I did send it in and it DID get accepted - but then I went on holiday, where there was no internet access, and couldn't respond to edits in time for the deadline, so I missed it! 

But I really liked my piece, so wanted to share it. And also mention that my friend Laura James had her piece accepted. Its in there on Page 24 - Aftermath.



Here's what I wrote. Enjoy! 

Jonas looked up into the night sky. He could just make it out; a faint, dusty ball of light. From here it looked harmless, nothing more than a pin prick among billions of others, but on the surface he knew there was suffering going on.

He wondered if he would ever get that final image out of his mind; the little girl holding onto her teddy bear, while gripping her mummy’s hand. 

Jonas had been one of the lucky ones; he’d been involved with the right organisations, and had the right credentials to make it onto the crew. And although he was grateful for that every day, he was also overwhelmed with guilt at being one of the few survivors, especially when he recalled that little girl running with her mum, the desperation on her face as stark as her mothers.

And he could have lived with having seen them and believed that they’d managed to find another way out if only he hadn’t looked back.

The mother had been the wife of one of the pilots on a trial mission the year before, one that had gone wrong and left her a widow. They owed her. And the fact she knew the location and departure time meant she was still connected.

The information about the shuttle trials and missions used to be out in the public forum, but when the fires had started to become unmanageable, so had the people and the decision was made to move them into the classified zone.

Jonas remembered the beginning and how no one had believed things could get out of control; bush fires were always contained, there were always people to fight them. But then the winds hadn’t changed, and the rains hadn’t come, and the fires kept growing, spreading into towns and cities. People died in hundreds and thousands. Then company infrastructure began to fail, and so did the governments.

Jonas thought about the anarchy that had taken over, and how the military had had to escort them to the shuttle - him and the other nine crew members, even though there hadn’t been many people there that day, and it had been calm.

That was why the sound of the shots followed by screaming had caused him to look. And greeted by the sight of the little girl falling to the ground, blood all over her teddy bear, along with the look of satisfaction on the soldiers face as he’d reloaded the gun and pointed it at her mother, Jonas had wanted to rush over. But he was reminded by another gun at his back not to, and continued walking up the steps to the shuttle.

He looked back now, through the visor of his Space helmet, at the collection of bubbles they were living in. Life on Mars with thirty people from five nations could barely be called living, but he’d take it any day over the horrors he’d witnessed during those last hours on Earth. 


Friday, 5 September 2014

Five Sentence Fiction - Darkness

This weeks Five Sentence Fiction photo was striking and couldn't be missed. Interestingly I couldn't help but give an edge of hope to it too. Enjoy.


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She tried to push against it but it was all around her, tugging at her clothes and messing with her hair.

It wrapped around her, rife with nasty voices telling her all the things that would break her and sink into the depths of her aching soul, widening the gap that resided there.

She wanted to scream, she wanted to bawl, she wanted to rage against it, and shake her fists, and yell at the top of her lungs that it wasn’t fair, that she was still here, and she wouldn’t let it consume her.

But the voices only grew louder, crowding in her head, picking apart her sanity.

Then she saw it; a shaft of light breaking through the darkness and she leapt for it with every ounce of her being, allowing it to fill her up and soothe her noisy mind, if only for a time. 


Visual Dare - Precocious

My last Visual Dare was way back in mid-July, and despite my present writing difficulties the photo prompt for this one was too good to pass up. It was such a surreal photo, only such a tale could be written. Enjoy.



The mage said it couldn’t be done, but she would show him. She would take lama and goat with her, with baby lama in the truck – it was too far for his little legs. 

Emily didn’t care that she wasn’t suppose to, or that the ‘membrane was too tenuous’ – whatever that meant. All she needed was to believe, that’s what Nan said, so she was going; seeing mummy’s smile on the other side would be worth it.

She tucked herself up in her coat and pulled her hood up. She collected the animals together, their bright eyes watching closely as she settled baby lama in his blankie.

Emily strode to the gateway with confidence, refusing to be daunted by the stone archway in the mountain mists.

They all believed mummy was gone, but Emily knew she’d be waiting on the other side, as she stepped out onto the mythical bridge.


Tuesday, 2 September 2014

Daily Picspiration - Home

I haven't posted much recently due to being away on holiday, and also due to a neck hernia, which is causing excruciating nerve pain throughout my right shoulder and arm.

I am not sure I will be able to write much throughout this month or maybe the next, especially if an operation takes place, but I do hope to keep my Daily Picspiration pieces going.

I wrote this one quite quickly, which is why it's so short and sweet, although I had thought about the photo for some time. I had initially thought of something dark, but then when I noticed the guitar box a whole other story appeared, and that' what came in the end; one much lighter and full of hope.

Posted on August 31st, you can read 'Home' here.

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