#mondaymixer is an interesting flash fiction compo, requiring exactly 150 words and at least one thing, verb and adjective, chosen from three of each. Today’s list is:
Things: 1) zephyr 2) plonk 3) billhook
Verbs: 1) ruminate 2) sparge 3) blench
Adjectives: 1) pawky 2) somnolent 3) insular
Overachievers, those who use at least five can receive a special prize. Here is my entry:
by Dr. Mike Reddy (@doctormikereddy) [150 words, overachiever award]
The long untended wood rendered every wind into the lightest zephyr. Its thick canopy of foliage filtered every torrential downpour into a sparging of the forest floor. From sunrise the woodsman had single-handedly cleared a section of fern, bramble and hated honeysuckle. Then discarding all but shorts, he felled with axe, lopped with bill hook and laid the stripped trunks of ash and hazel. Not all, mind you, but the rotted, the crooked and the too numerous, leaving the straightest, aloof, insular, unfettered by competition. They would fetch the best price at market, but the profits of his labour would be his son’s reward.
The Sun could now penetrate a little into the wood. So, at 9 o’clock he plonked himself down against an oak to eat his lunch, then basked, naked and somnolent, in its burrowing warmth. Piece-work, the woodsman ruminated to himself, was Peace work also.
It appears I won. The official announcement is here.
In my never-ending search for more opportunities to write, I’ve discovered #satsuntails.
The stories were based on the idea of “sleeping giants” and the following image:
Here’s my first entry, but please check it out in its original location (to read other entries) too:
Some wore them as earrings, or nose studs, or even spectacles. At one point there had been a ridiculous early fashion for pretentious earpieces, apparently named after a pirate, no less. Bluebeard? However, those early models were not able to Jack(R) nearly as well, being mere data visualisation conduits. Sylvi had her Giant(tm) in a simple hairpiece, easily overlooked when most preferred their attachments on the side or front of the skull, for easier neural integration. Sylvi just wanted hers out of the way for everyday people business. It annoyed her how few could resist tapping, touching or even stroking their Giants when they were clearly Jacking.
“Giant: the Jack ‘Killer’ App…” ran the slogan, its irony lost on most.
“…Without one you’re sleep walking.” warned the posters.
Lately, Sylvi had been wandering who was asleep and who awake. At least she took hers off at night. Mostly.
Friday Fiction #35 entry here if you don’t want to look at the original entry.
This story was based upon the following image, and needed to be 100-200 words:
“Warning: Only Industry Accredited Workers May Adjust The Special Machine”
by Dr. Mike Reddy (@doctormikereddy) [111 words]
347891 is watching as I adjust the special machine.
I am not allowed to know what it does – I have only just been rated – but it is very important.
132678 is nervous. He should be. This is the Special Machine! 132678 is too ol…[UNERWÜNSCHTE-GEDANKEN]. He should never have bee…[UNERWÜNSCHTE-GEDANKEN]
132678 must have worked hard to be rated at his age.
The adjustment is proceeding well. 132678 was a necessary addition to correct 347891. It is fitting to see him supervise 132678 in adjusting the Special Machine. Once 132678 has completed the adjustment, 347891 will need to recyc…[UNERWÜNSCHTE-GEDANKEN]reassigned.
Lillie McFerrin hosts a Five Sentence Fiction competition on her blog. This week’s theme is Bliss.
Here is my entry:
“Look Out The Window”
‘Bliss’, the Internet search engine, Google, showed her, was a well cut lawn stretching towards the horizon, under a fluffy cloud peppered blue sky.
She spent far too much time staring at computer screens. Her compulsory ‘Health and Safety: Use of Visual Display’ training told her she should take an eyestrain break.
Like she had time to look out the window for ten to twenty minutes every hour? That was when she had the idea for lookouthewindow.com, but (Damn it!) someone had beaten her to it again.