Monthly Archives: August 2013

Fiction Writing

#FlashFridayFic – “On Looking a Gift Horse in the Mouth” #flashfiction

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The latest Friday Fiction #37 asked for a 100 word story, based upon the following image:

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Here is my story if you don’t want to see the original version:

“On Looking a Gift Horse in the Mouth”
by Dr. Mike Reddy (@doctormikereddy)
[100 words]

“Master, I swear the boy is Sherpa reborn.”

“The racehorse… that died last year?”

“Your favourite mount, yes! That old witch said he’d come back!”

It was obvious the hand was expecting me to be angry, but I’d my own suspicions about Glynn. Something just not right about the boy. I motioned him to continue with the horsewhip.

“‘Tain’t natural for him to stand and walk so young. Like a foal.”

“Hmmm”

“When you spared the crone, she said she’d see you right. She knew you loved him and plumb brought Sherpa back.”

“It’s true, he really gets my goat!”

Fiction Writing

#Trifecta – “Chalk and Walk” #flashfiction

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This post was written for the Trifecta Writing Challenge, which was to write between 33 and 333 words including the word “grasp”, using the definition ‘to lay hold of with the mind – comprehend’ …

“Chalk and Walk”
by Dr. Mike Reddy (@doctormikereddy)
[330 words]

“… and if we recall the coefficient of Ro Lambda is substituted, the equation simplifies.” Professor Heidenheim started to erase the leftmost of the three blackboards that had all become filled with formulas. A collective groan from the slower note takers showed their progress had not been fast enough to capture the equations that had just been wiped out.

“Professor, could you clarify the part were you reduce the wave form? Please?” I had hoped to buy my fellow students some time, but had genuinely been unable to grasp that part. Most of my colleagues just wrote madly, like rabbits in the headlights of a car, not even trying to understand any of it during the lecture. I suspected some didn’t even try afterwards.

To my horror the Professor contemplated the middle board, then proceeded to wipe that out too. Looks of hate were flicked my way from sections of the auditorium. Heidenheim then reproduced verbatim the incomprehensible wall of mathematics he had just performed. He turned round, a genuine grin on his face, like this repetition would be sufficient to raise the curtain of ignorance. It was still just a wall of chalk that might as well have been hieroglyphics. It was too much. I snapped.

“Could you… er… wait for a moment?” I asked politely, then jumped up on the long shelf in front of my seat, which served the row as somewhere to write notes. Passing out sideways was impossible. The room was one of the old fashioned theatres students had to shuffle into sideways. So, I neatly jumped from row to row amidst curses from those in front of me. Finally, I jumped down in front of the startled lecturer walked past him and left the auditorium.

Once outside I screamed loudly in frustration, took a breath, then walked back in to a sea of laughter from a cohort who shared my confusion. They cheered as I hopped back to my seat.

“Sorry. Please carry on Professor.”

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#ThursThreads – “Down Town in the Valleys” #flashfiction

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#ThursThreads is an odd flash fiction compo, because a line chosen from the previous winner is chosen as the prompt for the next competition. This week, the phrase “In and out with a swipe of alcohol.” is it.

Here is my entry, if you don’t want to see the original piece:

“Down Town in the Valleys”
by Dr. Mike Reddy (@doctormikereddy)
[250 words]

It was a typical Saturday night in a post-Industrial Welsh town. Some twoccing. Drive to some more trusting neighbourhood. Choose an Offy that didn’t look too secure. Park this week’s joyfully donated vehicle in a quiet side street. Then in and out with a quick swipe of alcohol – whatever was nearest the shop door – and run like Hell back to the car. Then a safe spot to get plastered. Random!

Cigarettes were usually harder to steal, because they were often behind the counter. So. we’d send Billy the Kid – so called because he had a ‘butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth’ face – in to buy some fags first, and to suss out the place. There was a risk he’d get IDed, but he was too lard brained to really get that. Twp ‘ead.

So, Billy had come back with a few packs of Marlboros, and Rizzlas and Golden Virginia for Tony, who liked to roll his own ‘special blend’. We’d had the all clear. Mostly cider, which was shit but it was accessible and a few large bottles would be sufficient for our needs. We’d rolled the place speedily – something of a record in fact – and legged it. Even when the car stalled we hadn’t panicked. Tony’s special blend kept us too mellow for that. Then we were off, screaming through the streets and into the secluded hills.

We laughed our skulls hollow. What a storming night! Only I started thinking did we really have to do it again?

—
fin

Author’s notes for those not familiar with UK colloquialisms:

twoccing is derived from Taking Without Concent (TWOC)
Offy = Off Licence or Liquor Store, usually selling tobacco products as well
Random is the word for cool/wicked/bad/etc
Twp = Welsh for stupid
‘joyfully donated’ is a play on joyriding, a euphemism for the stealing of cars by young people.

Fiction Writing

#VisDare – Indifferent “More Rain” #flashfiction

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Every week #VisDare posts a picture challenge. This week the theme is “Indifference” and the photo prompt is:

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Photo Source

Here is my story:

“More Rain”
by Dr. Mike Reddy (@doctormikereddy)
[150 words]

The three sisters manifested without a single mortal noticing, as only the Apportioners could. Even the fashion photographer, Gundlach, who had just been shooting an uncharacteristic landscape of the flooded square, was pleasantly surprised later by the unexpectedly iconic foreground that appeared in the developing fluid.

Clotho, the youngest, sighed. “I do so hate the mid 20th century. So little made by hand. So many machines.”

“Oh, I quite like their naive sense of accuracy. Such a belief that they’re in control.” her elder, Lachesis, disagreed, before bending over her charts.

Atropos, the oldest, said nothing. So much rebuilding in the last fourteen years. She loved Berlin, especially von der Mark’s tomb, for which she’d granted Schadow more thread.

“Ah, we’re HERE.” Lachesis folded her charts. “This way.”

Clotho followed, unconsciously twisting some thread. “Who is it again that needs our personal attention?”

“It’s complicated.”

Atropos silently tested her shears.

Fiction Writing

Mid-Week Blues-Buster #MWBB – “Waiting” #flashfiction

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Mid-Week Blues-Buster is a “music prompted flash fiction challenge.”

Here is my entry this week, if you don’t want to see the original submission:

Title: “Waiting”
[358 words]

“I CAN see,” the old man said, suddenly answering my unasked question. “Well… enough to get by anyway.” he chuckled quietly to himself.

“Is that right, Granddad?” I spat out the last bit, annoyed the old codger had heard me approaching the bench. I had hoped for an easy mark. Danny was waiting. And it did not pay to keep Danny waiting.

“Got any cash, Granddad? I’m in a hurry.”

“Yes, a little… No, I’m not.”

“Huh?”

“And I wouldn’t be if I were you. In a hurry. I know where that road is heading.”

“Wha…? Look, just give me your money Gra…”

“I’m not your Granddad, boy. But sure, you can have the money. It’s yours anyway.”
He took out his wallet efficiently, like he had expected to be mugged, and handed it over.
“See you pay it back now… When the time comes…”

I took it. Given how easily he had rolled over, I gave myself the luxury of checking his wad. Result! There must have been a few thousand quid, along with a slip of paper marked ‘I O Me. Watch out for the shit.’, which I screwed up and dropped to the floor. I handed him back the purse. No need to be rude, as he was being so cooperative.

“Thanks Gra…”

“It’s Stephen… Steve.”

“Hey, same as me!” I thought to myself. Not really smart introducing yourself aloud to your victim. At least the old man wouldn’t be able to pick me out of a line up. His glasses were as thick as milk bottles.

I turned to leave. Danny was waiting. And that is when I trod on the dog shit. “How the hell…” I started to wipe my boot on the grass. The old guy on the park bench wheezed a laugh behind me.

“I never was good with warnings.” he sniggered. “Danny… is waiting. You should have enough. If you’re as stupid as I was, I’ll still be here when you get back. If I’m not… well… then we’ll both be in the…” He pointed uncannily at my foot, then waved me away.

I ran. Danny was waiting, after all.

Fiction Writing

#FiveSentenceFiction – Fabric “Coming Undone”

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Lillie McFerrin Writes

Lillie McFerrin hosts a Five Sentence Fiction competition on her blog. This week’s theme is Fabric. This is great. My brother works in the Fashion Industry, mostly with models – not as glamorous as you may think, he tells me. They’re all mad! – so this one is for him.

Here is my entry, which is a bit “far out” for the theme, but trust me:

The needle entered the skin with no accompanying hesitation; she’d clearly done this before. Several previously hidden needle marks would be exposed until she pulled it together and covered them up.

The needle’s precious cargo was the only thing she could rely on now to keep up appearances. Her reputation was hanging by a trembling thread, and she’d nearly lost it.

How embarrasing would it have been to pop a button on a new leather jacket during a photo shoot!

Fiction Writing

#55wordchallenge – “Spirit of the Forest” #flashfiction (UPDATE Honourable Mention)

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UPDATE
I got an Honourable Mention for this!
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In Lisa’s own words “the 55 Word Challenge is a contest to write a story in 55 words or less.” Each week writers pick one of three images as inspiration.

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Here’s my entry if you would rather not see the original version:

“Spirit of the Forest”
by Dr. Mike Reddy (@doctormikereddy) [55 words]

Naomi was bloody mad. Furious in fact. And wet. Very very wet.

“It’ll be good for you!” her agent had promised. “Get your name and face in the public eye again.”

Naomi had grudgingly agreed. Perfume adverts were certainly memorable. “Spirit of the Forest” they called the stuff. More creosote and dog pee, she thought.

Fiction Writing

#FinishThatThought – “For Better and Worse” (UPDATE Special Challenge Champion)

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FTTWinnerLogo

UPDATE
I got the Special Challenge Champion Award for this. Official Announcement here

Alissa Leonard has created the “Finish That Thought” Flash Fiction compo, which usually provides an opening line and some ‘special challenge’ words to include, and must be less than 500 words. This week’s compo opening line was “Her mind was seized with a sense of terror so intense she wept.” and the special challenge words were: stiletto, umbrella and gravy.

Here is my story, if you don’t want to see it posted in its original place:

“For Better and Worse”
by Dr. Mike Reddy (@doctormikereddy) [500 words, special challenge accepted]

Her mind was seized with a sense of terror so intense she wept. “I can’t…” she sobbed, “I can’t marry him. Not like this!” As if to emphasise the point she gestured to her fine white gown.

“It’s just nerves,” I soothed, “Ok, it’s a bit tight. You’ve put on a few pounds. That’s all. I was a ‘little’ plump when I got married.”

“More than a lit…” her Father started then decided not to finish the thought. “Sally, you look lovely. And before you ask, no the stiletto heels do not make you look taller than Geoff.”

“I’m TALLER than Geoff! Oh God, it gets worse!” the bride to be burst into tears.

“We’ll done, Bill. Here, take this…” I thrust an umbrella into his unexpecting hands. “…and find somewhere for it!” I shoved him out of the changing room, grabbed some tissues from her handbag and turned to face a despondent daughter.

“What is it?” I asked, mopping tear filled mascara from the girl’s cheeks. A waste of money that make over was. The uncharitable thought only consoled by the fact Sally had insisted she paid for everything herself. Geoff not being ‘financially’ able to contribute. No gravy train of a rich husband for my little girl. Not yet anyway. It was all tied up in trust funds until he had produced an heir.

Sally was too soft, like her father. Sadly, it also meant my ‘mother’s duty’ of meddling had been neatly side-stepped. Not paying for the thing had removed the ‘gratitude’, the one bit of leverage a woman could have used to justify interference. It was deeply frustrating.

Sally took the tissue, folded it, then wiped her face with the fresh side. “It’s because I’m in white, Mother. It’s a sacrilege. I’m not a virgin. I’m carrying Geoff’s baby… That’s why the dress is tight.” She looked up into my eyes with a pathetic search for disapproval. “You must hate me now.”

Now? Why just now? I had only become pregnant to keep her father from leaving me. There were times when I wasn’t sure the bargain had been worth it. Stupid brat wasn’t even his! And he hadn’t been that great a catch after all, since I had inherited far more money from a relative than his entire family had. Thank God for the Pre-Nup! Now it was all about appearances. We both had impeccable reputations to maintain. Pillars of the community, and all that.

“Let me tell you something. You weren’t premature, like your Father believes. I paid a doctor off. I was three months pregnant when I walked down the aisle. And you have an heir. Geoff will be pleased!”

“Three? I thought you had a ‘whirlwind romance?”

“Oh… three… yes. Anyway…”

“Dad… are you hearing this?”

Why was she speaking into the bouquet?

“We got her! Proof of infidelity prior to marriage. The Pre-Nup’s invalid. You can take the bitch to the cleaners. And YOU’RE paying for the wedding.”

#TickleTuesday, Fiction Writing

#TicckleTuesday – Life Drawing “Three Sisters”

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Ticckle Tuesday’s theme is “Life Drawing”, which is where an instant (possibly a photo or a memory) is captured in text; the writer’s equivalent of a pencil sketch in a sketchbook.

Here is my offering in video and text form:

Title:
“Three Sisters”

The slides were the highlight of the family trip. Caution followed Fear down the first, while Care looked on. When Caution reached the bottom, Fear had been whisked away by Adventure.

Caution tried to direct Adventure out of the path of Care as she threw herself to the wind. With Fear and Caution banished by Adventure, Care too departed. All that was left was Happiness.

The images I took the story from:

#TickleTuesday, Fiction Writing

#TicckleTuesday – Theme: Life Drawing #flashfiction

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Theme will be Life Drawing, but don’t start until Midnight. A textual life drawing is a short story that paints a picture, describes a scene, and doesn’t need to include a narrative. Think of it as the writer’s equivalent of a sketch. Go to the FaceBook Group (will need membership) or http://ticckle.com/ and reply to the video entitled #TicckleTuesday #3 here

You can either record 30s for extra credit (about 50-60 words on average) or 60s (which would be two Ticckle videos, so please label them part 1 and part 2 when you respond. A minute is probably 120 words from my experience. Alternatively, record a FaceBook video or an audio file (AudioBoo or SoundCloud are both good). If the sound of your own voice horrifies you, please do push your comfort zone, but I’d rather have a text entry that I will record than no entry at all.

And we have all week but extra extra credit for submitting tomorrow, Tuesday!

UPDATE
If you use a picture as your prompt, please upload it if you are willing.