Friday Fictioneer: 3rd April 2015 – Learning the hard way

Wow, this is almost becoming a habit, and we know habits are good, right? Thanks to Rochelle for running this weekly event.

Several possibilities were pondered for this strange doorway, but I’m reasonably pleased with what came up.

This week’s photo prompt by Lauren Moscato, submitted by Amy Rees

Learning the Hard Way

Serena and her daughter, Ruby, were arguing. Bernard watched with interest from his porch. “I can’t do it!” Ruby clutched her schoolbag, shaking her head. The mother, clearly at her wits end, shoved her right out the door. The little girl plummeted toward the pavement several metres below. Bernard’s heart nearly burst in horror. Ruby’s terrified scream split the morning air. Then came the reassuring swoosh of furious wings. Ruby crowed above him. “I did it!” and swooped gleefully above him, laughing, her mother close behind.

Bernard, wishing his mother had done that, waved enviously from his street level porch.

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Thank you for reading, any and all constructive criticism welcome 🙂

Also, follow the blue froggie below for fantastic 100 word stories written by other ‘Friday Fictioneers’:

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Friday Fictioneer: 3rd April 2015 – Learning the hard way

Short Story: The Will

Jane had been down here a long time…

This is an original piece written by Joanna K Neilson:

dry-well

The Will

Worry gnawed at her bones. Her stomach was so empty it no longer hurt and she couldn’t remotely remember the softness of a bed. It was hard to sleep down here, in the cold darkness, with rats running over her feet and nibbling at her whenever she passed out from exhaustion and pain. No, there was nothing left inside her to shake off the misery, to fight for a way out. She was broken and beaten and wanted to die. He had destroyed her. What was left was a stringy, starving thing that could barely remember kindness or her life before these curving walls, kept in this dingy cellar space that stank of rodent droppings and her own filth. Her captor had grown bored of her, that’s the impression she had whenever he appeared recently. As if she were inconveniencing him, the fucker. If she had more energy she’d appreciate the irony. Instead it fuelled the one spark of energy she had left.

Jane’s hate surged up from her misery, became a single furious knot of will. Then a fat fucking rat ran across her matted hair. She grabbed it and bit down into its neck, sucking at the hot blood, trying not to gag on the furry, wriggling body. She sucked down all the insides of the rat and spat out its less palatable parts. That was better. Continue reading “Short Story: The Will”

Short Story: The Will

750ish words: ‘Animal’s Theory about the guy next door’

Consistent writing does take the fear out of the process, the crippling perfectionism that can kill a first draft, let alone the minowwing idea that promises to grow into tasty words and yummy stories. So before I kill that metaphor entirely…here’s a quick story, minnow sized actually, written in 20 minutes on one of the most inspirational writing sites out there – 750words.com.  The site tracks you keeping up writing at least 750 words a day, and it’s a good way to break through any starting nerves, any hesitation can be fought through and replaced with sweetly random connections coming together. Or, you know, a rant about how mad, irrational and crappy you’re feeling at that particular moment. Lately I’ve been doing the fiction more than the internal angst, though that’s still there. Weirdly, it’s easier to fill the 750 words remit by writing a story, than by rolling around inside your brain. Most of the time, anyway.

So, below is a rough idea taken from a random verbal prompt of: Animal, Florida, Chinchilla. To the suggester, you know who you are, and thank you. It was also loosely inspired by this quote that a fantasy writing prompt tumblr account mentioned. But as it’s something of a spoiler, I’ll quote it at the very end. So, here’s the very brief reaction to the prompt:

Animal’s theory about the guy next door

Florida roiled in oily heat. Stars above shimmered in the haze. My pal, animal, fed his pet chinchilla a fat grape and cracked open his fifth beer with me and Margaret.

“Do either of you know,” he started, wiping sweat from his brow, He was so watery I was a little amazed his shoulder tattoo didn’t run. “How many of us are currently being eaten by the monsters we think are merely imaginary?”

Continue reading “750ish words: ‘Animal’s Theory about the guy next door’”

750ish words: ‘Animal’s Theory about the guy next door’