Showing posts with label flash fiction. Show all posts
Showing posts with label flash fiction. Show all posts

Friday, October 10

When a story stalls...

I'm working on the Fairy Tale Murders, and the story seemed to be zooming along when tonight...

Nothing.  I reached a place and my muse seemed to pull away.  Something in it feels off and I can't figure out just what that is.  It could be that I'm moving too fast, or that I missed something, or that I'm not letting the story do what it needs and fighting against it.

Either way, I got stalled out of it.

On the plus side, after skipping a sprint I did another and popped out a 830 word, almost complete story... Which I'm going to share some of with you here.  :D

The prompt was 'Dark and Stormy Night' and an Epic Horse... I got the first one in.

Most stories start on dark and stormy nights, because they’re setting the stage for what’s about to happen.  In Erra Lash, its always like that so we’re pretty used to it.  Which is why my story has a different opening line… Besides this one at least… I mean… Oh, you’ll see. 
The sun peeked through the normally darkened skies and smiled down upon our small village.  To date, that had only happened seven times in two hundred years, and only twice was it a good thing.  Both had been when our leader married someone the goddess approved of greatly. 
Any other time she parted the clouds was seen as a sign of her anger at us.  See, Cess was hidden away from us, looking through the clouds to watch our world.  In this way, she could leave us to live as we wanted, with minimal interference.  Only when someone’s sins were so great that even through the cover she could see it, did she part them to dispel justice.


Kristy C

Thursday, August 28

Blurb of a Post

Blogger goofed and posted today's entry, yesterday.

Oh well, I'll make something up for you.  ^^

I know!!  I'll post something I've written here for you to enjoy.

Now, this as the CTC29 challenge from day 22.

Day 22: Following In Their Words
Take the nursery rhyme Humpty Dumpty and rewrite it, borrowing the voice and style of a famous writer. In case you're unfamiliar with the rhyme, here it is:
Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall,
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall.
All the king's horses and all the king's men
Couldn't put Humpty together again.
Note that you don't have to write this piece in rhyme or even as a poem. Focus on taking the story from the rhyme and crafting it in the style of the author you choose. To flex your muscles, do the exercise a second time using another author writer with a very different voice than the one you chose the first time.

And here is what I wrote.  Its short and weird, but I like it. Follows in the footsteps of Raymond Chandler, who created the best Noir Detective ever... Philip Marlow.

It started like any other day.  The odd ice was empty when I arrived, but business had been slow for weeks now.

Then she walked in my door.  Long legs stretched up into a round body… A curse only a Humpty could pull off.

“I need your help.”  She breathed, leaning on my desk.

“What’s wrong toots?”

“Its my husband.  He… He had a great fall.”

Everyone had head about the fall.  Dumpty was in pieces they said.

“Way I heard it, Kingsman and Horses was on the case.”

“Please.  They can’t put him back together again.”  She looked at me, and I saw a glint in her eyes.  “No one can.”

I could see she was trouble.

“Then, what do you want?”

“He’s in pieces, but I need to know who caused the fall.”

A sharp laugh escaped my lips.  “Lady, you know who.  I ain't some quack you can use as a frame up guy.”  Leaning close, I smiled.  “You caused the fall babe and now you want to make sure your tracks are covered.”

She was fast on the draw, but I was quicker. “Turn yourself in toots.”

“I”ll share it all with you.  Money, power… Love.”

“Sorry, not interested.”

Two shots rang out and she crumpled to the ground.

Life poured out of her like a spilled inkwell.

Picking up the phone, I called Detective Piper.

“Ms. Humpty just confessed to the fall of her husband… No, send the wagon… She’s in pieces.”

As I said, its not polished or anything, and it moves pretty fast.  But for a short I wrote while getting my back pain zapped and frozen, then in a car.. I think its pretty good.

Kristy C

Saturday, August 23

Things I've Written...

As mentioned before, I've been spending August doing a challenge for 29 days of writing prompts to building my skills as a writer.

I have three days not yet finished, but well started.  One day, I just can't seem to get going in my head.  I've had ideas, but nothing that's stuck.  So, I wanted to share with you what I wrote for one of the days recently, as I thought it was rather interesting.

This prompt came in three pieces, with your goal being to do one, then take a break before doing the next and repeating the set one more time after that.  Below, I'll share each of the prompts and the what I wrote as a response.

Part 1: Start the exercise with your character walking into a bar and taking in the scene. Write what happens in one page. End with your character sitting at the bar and ordering a drink. Write normally, like you would write if this weren't an exercise. When you've finished, put away what you wrote and take a break before doing part 2.

It had been years since he'd had a chance to walk into a bar and just take a moment.  Lately, each visit was to bring Kyran back to the Station, or to pick up a villain for the police.  The idea that he'd be able to sit and enjoy a drink was strange.


Just inside the door, he stopped and let his eyes wander over this particular bar.  Times had changed since he had last been able to go out and drink.  As a young man, these had been saloons and pubs, where men met to talk about the world around them and share a drink together.  Most of the women had been call girls or waitresses.  In the 40's, they'd felt more 'themed', with packed dance floors, shows and lots of tables for a couple to share a stolen moment at.


The only constant between them all, was the music and the drunks.


Music always seemed to be playing from some source or another, be it live or recorded.  It helped to drown out the talking and gave those alone something they could focus on, other than being alone.

It was the same with the drunks.  Always one or two who came almost daily to drown their sorrows in a drink or two... Or ten.  The bartenders took care of them, cutting them off at the right time and getting them home safely.

Taking a good look around, he saw the drunks and heard the music and then focused on what made this place unique.

Art decorated the walls, loud and bold in its colors and strokes.  It was abstract, but that didn't stop it from speaking volumes.  The decor was strange and mismatched, tables of various sizes and surrounded by different kinds of chairs.  To him, the place managed to feel both old world, and modern at the same time.  It felt a little like home.

Stepping up to the bar, he took a seat and looked at the drinks on tap, before finding one he wanted and calling to the young man to place his order.

"I'll try the Hopped Up Sampler."

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Part 2: Do the exact same thing as in Part 1, but now I want you to zoom in the narrative distance. Get up close and personal with your character. Feel the cigarette smoke seeping into his skin and the his shoes catching on the floor that's sticky from spilled beer. Write that page in this zoom-lens POV. Again, end with your character ordering a drink, then put away what you wrote and take a break.


He pushed open the large door, wondering how the daintier customers got in when even he had to give it a solid heave too.  Still, it helped to keep the weather out and the warmth of the bar in.


A friend had suggested this one to him, a place he might feel more at home in, while still keeping in the modern world.  His friend was fight.


Stepping to the side, in case someone else tried to get in, he took a moment t admire one of the several pieces of art around the place. Bold and loud colors called to him, their abstract brush strokes speaking volumes more than some might have thought. It fit with the way the room was littered with tables of all shapes and sizes, surrounded by chairs that didn't match.


It made the place feel somehow old fashioned, and modern.  Like himself.


"Jus' one more drink?"  A voice called out behind him, causing the man to turn catch a glimpse of one staple in all bars, regardless of time.


A drunk.


"No can do Kelly. You know the rules.  Six makes you angry and you can't afford to fix this place up, again."


"But, it was such a bad day..."  He started, before nodding and trying to stand up.


"Let me call you a cab.  We'll make sure the cars safe until tomorrow, then you can have your husband come and pick it up with your daughter."  A hand was held out and the drunk, Kelly, dutifully put his keys in it and waited for the cab to pick him up.


With the distraction gone, he noticed the other thing all bars had in common.  Music.


Here, it was a unique sound that actually mixed old recordings of music with modern dance.  It, fit the world created here.

Stepping up to the bar, now that Kelly was taken care of, he closed his eyes and felt the way everything moved around him, before ordering.

"I'd like a bourbon."


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Part 3: Repeat parts 1&2, only this time zoom out to a full panoramic distance. You're still in the limited POV, but now you're far, far away, getting a panoramic view of the scene. We should almost forget that we're in the POV character's head until he or she sits at the bar and orders a drink to end the scene.


It wasn't your typical bar, but then most bars weren't all that typical in the end.  Each had a clientele they wanted to serve, and did their best to attract those people.


A heavy oak door was the only entrance, keeping some out just from the imposing nature of it.  It helped to keep men gentlemen as some struggled to open it on their own.  But that was by design as well, the first step in assuring they kept 'riff raff out' and proper in.


Loud and bold art work littered the plain walls, drawing the attention of those who entered first.  One step away from being too much, it helped to set the stage for the place you were about to enter.  Its abstract strokes mixing well with the mishmash of tables and chairs, all of which had long lost their original pairings.


At one of the bar, a drunk begged the tender for another drink, proclaiming that it had been a bad day and he just needed 'one more.'


The quality of the bar was shown in not only the refusal of the drink, but the reason being that they knew the consequence and didn't want him to face that again.  It was further proven when the bartender requested the keys, calling a cab so his patron wouldn't get hurt on the way home.


Music, pumped in from an unknown place, added to the original effect of melding ideas with its strange vintage and modern twist in each song.


Everything in the place had been carefully crafted to call to the right person, one who was suited for this kind of world.  Longing for the days of yesteryear, while understanding that the present was needed.


It all suited him just fine, as he stepped up and ordered.


"Scotch on the rocks. Oban Highland, Single Malt.  Nothing under 15 years."


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I thought it was interesting how each of the endings had a different drink, growing in its speciality as the description of the bar and what was seen grew in definition.  Really enjoyed this challenge.  ^^

Kristy C

Thursday, October 13

Flash Fiction: Start Living Again


This is a blurb I wrote about an OC of mine, Ezio.  There's more infos on him at my dA, 

Chloe had told him it might help, and while Ezio really wasn't all that sure... He headed into the store anyway.  Looking around, a flood of memories started to wash over him as he thought of those two little blond girls that had ruled his heart for so long.  A smile came to his lips as he moved through the store and noticed all the things they had loved and enjoyed.  Both had managed to be fairly girly, if in slightly different ways. 

Maria... She had loved not just fashion, Barbie’s and the like, but had adored coloring and creating.  At 18, she'd still had the Barbie’s, but used them to sew her own miniature designs and style them.  He'd been helping her with sketching out clothes and her own fashions.  She'd actually dreamed of becoming a fashion designer.  Standing in the middle of the Barbie aisle, he picked up an outfit she would have loved.

At the end of the aisle, the young man stopped and stared as something caught his eye and he moved toward it.  Mariah on the other hand... Her wave of creativeness had from nature and all things flowers.  While still managing to be insanely girly, she'd simply loved to be out in the garden, planting and growing.  Then, after they'd blossomed, at 16, she would carefully prune them and make some amazing flower arrangements.  Arrangements that he could still at times, see in his mind’s eye.  Ezio picked up the children’s 'flower' kit and smiled at it.

Starting back toward the front, the black haired man stopped once to pick up a gift bag and tissue paper, before paying for it.


Little over an hour later, he smiled as the bag was handed over to a worker for the Christmas Wish group.  Somehow, it had actually been helpful.  "Should have known better then to doubt Chloe."  He mumbled to himself, before heading out into the cold Chicago weather and slipping on his bike, ready to start home.

Maybe, it was time to really figure out how to start living in the present.