Chuck’s flash fiction challenge for the week is the Random Title Challenge.
I could cut some excuses off the old ham hock of scrubbitude, but I’ll instead choose to focus on the fact that I had a really great idea with this one that I just don’t think I was able to fully realize.
Maybe I can mine this one for some material later.
Comments and critiques are welcome.
Betrayer’s Helix
Art told his first lie when he was four.Read More »
If my typical weekend short story is Flash Fiction, you could call this one Lightning Fiction. Chuck’s latest challenge is the 100 Word Story. If you read this site at all, you know that I have a tendency not to scrimp on my words, so saying a lot with a little is a stretch for me. (For comparison, my introduction is longer than the story itself, at about 180 words). Nonetheless, I like what I’ve come up with.
Maybe I’ve got hair on the brain. Mine is fleeing my face as fast as its follicles will carry it; my wife just got hers cut. Add to that the (unrelated) fact that with our first child we went through a lengthy hospital stay and our second will be arriving any day here… I couldn’t shake off these things clinging to my brain. If you’re curious, this is not autobiographical, though my wife and I were certainly adjacent to a lot of stories like this one.
At any rate, here are 100 words exactly, title not included. Don’t read them all in one place.
Shorn
Mackenzie disappeared into the treatment wing, escorted by a perky nurse whose name Eloise had immediately forgotten. Philip offered all the support he could: a sympathetic grimace and a dutiful squeeze of her hand. She made for the parking lot, not bothering to wipe the tears from her eyes.
**
In the salon, Eloise sat down in the chair and told her stylist what she wanted.
“You’re sure?”
All Eloise could think of were Mackenzie’s frightened eyes, her sobs as the clumps of hair had fallen out. She bit her lip, nodded, and smiled as the clippers buzzed to life.
More on that title at the end of the post.
The writing had me in a weird place yesterday. I was stressed about where my story had ended up and where it was headed, and I felt the significant gravity of self-doubt and intimidation about the task of writing a novel weighing heavy on my shoulders. It was one of those days when I really think I’ve bitten off more than I can chew, when I wonder if this whole thing was really such a good idea and whether I’d be better off using my spare time to play video games or read or watch TV or otherwise waste my time. Of course, you have those thoughts, and then you remember the old adage about how nobody on their deathbed says they wished they’d watched more TV. No, Writing this novel is one of those — I won’t say Bucket List items, because that’s a term that gets tossed around too whimsically for my tastes — but it’s one of those Things I Wanted To Accomplish. And, like with so many other things in life, I’ve found, the day-to-day struggles become easier to bear if you keep your eye on the prize, so that’s what I try to do.Read More »
Chuck’s challenge of the week: A random picture.
I chose this one:
What can I say, it called to me. Maybe something about smuggling watermelons since my wife is super pregnant.
I also riffed off a challenge from several weeks back: SomethingPunk, for which I wrote the story “Borrowed Time“. This one’s more fun, less depressing: FruitPunk.
Hope you like it.
Seeds of Insurgence
Larry takes a healthy slurp from his biodegradable cup filled with the newest lime-flavored Nutro-Slam beverage, wipes the froth from his mouth with the back of his meaty hand, and then sucks the froth off his knuckle. It tastes almost, but not entirely, completely unlike lime. Travelers file past him in a somber parade, waiting for winged tin cans like the ones dinner comes in to whisk them off to some other part of the world. To stave off the boredom, he begins concocting backstories for them, one by one. This one, with the patched overcoat and the limp, saved all his creds for one last trip to see his grandchildren before he dies. That one, in the flowery dress and boyish haircut, back from college to see her parents and come out of the closet. He wonders if that makes him a bigot.
A shout shatters his reverie: “GRAPES!”Read More »
Welcome. This is my page for sharing projects associated with my coursework in Media and Technology at the University of West Georgia. Assignments will be posted here as they are completed.
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