The Goblet of Lost Chicago

Here is a little piece of fiction I wrote for author Chuck Wendig’s flash fiction challenge.

Word Count: 1728        I hope you enjoy!

The Goblet of Lost Chicago

No orange glow flickered across the aged brick walls of the alley. No cracked fingers protruded from the tattered remnants of worn gloves. Only hoarse coughs and muffled sniffles spoke of life in the allies of Chicago during the winter. The warmth of fires only burned in the barrels of allies from movie sets. In the real world, the police demanded such fire hazards be snuffed out. Too many loose layers covering dirt-caked hands hovered around the fires for the comfort of the law. A fire among the piles of refuse in the alley outweighed the comfort of heat for the lost ones of the Windy City.

Why I Write – Challenge

This week, word guru Chuck Wendig has offered a different spin on his weekly Flash Fiction Challenge. He asks to write a summary of a simple phrase, “Why I write?” Three simple words have a layered and complicated answer.

Why do I write? I have often stared into the mirror, examining the haggard face mocking my every move and wondered the same thing. I have written many things over the years, but never have I actually set out with the purpose of writing stories for  the entertainment of others. Unlike other writers I have not: 1) been writing stories since I was a toddler 2) had a life changing experience that gives me a desire to write 3) been writing for years, honing the craft to perfection 4) suffered a loss that could only be expressed through written word 5) been abducted by mimes and held at imaginary gunpoint over an invisible typewriter forced to tell the history of the International Association of Assassin Mimes and Reptile-Training Plumbers. None of these things caused me want to write.

Flash Fiction: 6 Random Titles: The Son of the Twilight

Another week, another Chuck Wendig flash fiction challenge. I am really starting to enjoy these. They are really helping my creative writing. This week Chuck provided his zombies with a random title generator that gave 6… random titles….did I really need to explain that?

My titles: Falling End, The Seventh Healer, Gift of Snow, The Thorn’s Girl, The Son of the Twilight, and Touch in the Beginning.

First 2 I liked. Gift of Snow?! Hell no! I hate snow! Next 2 good. Last one sound’s like a pedophile’s memoire so an emphatic HELL NO!

I went with The Son of the Twilight and really had no clue where it was going but I was happy with the end result. Standard rules of 1000 words max and I cam in at a dashing 997 after 2 edits. Anyway. Enjoy

Flash Fiction Challenge: Crash My Party

So here I go again. I am attempting my second Flash Fiction Challenge by Chuck Wendig.

It is a 1000 word challenge requiring to write a story about a random song title. I opened Pandora and figured whatever song first came up was what I would use. Crash My Party by Luke Bryan. Didn’t realize I last listened to my country channel but oh well. This should be interesting. The challenge doesn’t require you to use the song title, merely use it as inspiration for the story. Needless to say my story is nothing like the song.

What did I learn? a 1000 word limit sucks! I was at 1108 and cut it down to 1000 words exactly! Lost some of the description but the story is intact. Anyway, here it is

Flash Fiction Challenge

So as I recently stated, this entire blogosphere is a new world to me. Reading, as well as writing my own, has left me confused and lost more times than a 40k night land nav course in a blizzard. However, one of my favorite blogs is by author Chuck Wendig. He seems fond of these Flash Fiction Challenges so I figured I would try my own hand at one.

This one had only one requirement: there must be a dead body.

Here goes. Hope you enjoy.

  I barely recognize my brother as he takes his final breath. The sobs of my father are muffled from his face being buried in the overalls of his eldest son. The wind is blowing so fiercely I can barely stand, the entire landscape is swirling around me. Acres of golden alfalfa fields race skyward, to then nosedive towards their intended place below. A dark haze seems to be creeping in the edge of the golden chaos spinning in front of me.