Experimenting with surrealistic imagery. It is weird writing with vague dreamy imagery, while still holding onto the basics like plot and character. It is perhaps harder to pull everything together so that by the end, the reader is aware of everything.
Everything was quiet. No birds squawked their annoyance at my presence. No insects sang love songs across the vast expanse of where I knelt before the leak. My frantic heart pounded silently in my chest. My labored breathing evoked no noise. No stuttering inhale nor ragged exhale filled my ears with its crackling rush of wind as I watched the heavy water spurt from the hole in the wall.
Ignoring the unnatural silence, I stared with dumbfounded eyes at the ragged hole drilled into the dirty tan wall. Mortar cracks of the wall were caked with dirt and grime because the wall dared to exist in a foreign land. In an eternity above the wall’s gushing wound, great forests of thick green leaves and brown underbrush silently breathed on me. The eyes of the thicket pleaded with me to stop the discharge of fluid from its depths. Continue reading
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. Continue reading
This is a story I wrote for a class I’m taking. I was happy with how it was received.
An amber mix of melted ice and whiskey slowly spun circles in my glass. Three tiny chunks of ice floated around the whirlpool I created. With eyes squinted, I downed the last third of my drink. Those tiny icebergs cooled my throat, combatting the whiskey as it tried to burn away my pain. A gasp escaped my lips as I remembered why I don’t drink often.
The now empty glass slammed onto the dark wooden bar louder than I meant. It echoed across the polished boards, drawing the attention of the woman seated next to me. Out of the corner of my eye, I glimpsed her head turn towards me, and the smell of her perfume followed her gaze. The sweet scent of a familiar fragrance that sparked a distant memory. A memory of the first kiss Linda and I shared more than twenty-five years ago. Continue reading
Ok, for the two people that may check in and read my ramblings I have an announcement. I will not be posting much or at all for the month of November. I am going to attempt the NaNoWriMo challenge and see how I do. I have a few ideas that are not concrete but I am just going to throw words on the page and see what happens.
I am approaching this as a huge flash fiction challenge. I have have minor success with those in the past so maybe my luck can continue.
Oh and I am not supposed to be shaving this month either so I will be frazzled and hairy come December
Well, I am off. Wish me luck!
- Image courtesy of National Novel Writing Month.
Fear of Dying
“What is it Juliette?” the instructor asked the young one.
“Why do the Dumb Ones outside the walls look so different from us?”
“Interesting question Juliette. However, are you simply trying to distract me from grading your quiz?”
“Of course I am,” the child answered truthfully.
The instructor waved long-fingered hands in front of the holoscreen to dismiss it. A small opening appeared below the instructor’s work space. The carbon-plasteel desk automatically folded in on itself. As the various struts and supports folded and tucked against each other, the entire desk slowly sank into the opening until it disappeared. A small pop and the opening closed seamlessly in the floor as if it had never appeared.
The instructor now stood alone before the entire class. Scanning the eager faces of the classroom the instructor smiled with contentment. The overwhelming desire for knowledge has already replaced the base primal emotions of youth. The id repression has begun. At such a young age the dorsal ridge along the frontal cortex cranium is under developed. They are after all only four years old. Continue reading