Fiction Writing

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

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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.

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#flashfiction on a Lumia 800 (WP7)

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One of the recent things I’ve started doing of late is flash fiction. That is writing short stories with strict theme, word or time limits; sometimes all three together. One of the problems I had last time I switched to the Nokia was logging into http://sixminutestory.com/ because Twitter authorisation (that site’s standard IDing process) failed (and still does) for the WP7 implementation of Internet Explorer. However, this time I managed to get the browser to use a simple login instead, so I can now do #6minutestory flash fiction directly in the browser.

Other forms of flash fiction, such as #flashfridayfic, etc, can be written offline, but while it is tricky getting iPhones to show Word Count – there are Apps, including Pages, if you turn on that feature – it is stupidly hard on WP7; there are two options (both free but ad supported):
Word Count – allows you to cut and paste text in go get a word count. Very clunky!
Word Counter – allows you to type into the App itself, giving a running tally of words (much more useful), but the lack of decent multitasking means you have go save your writing somewhere ‘safe’ if you want to stop and come back to it, which is just silly.

So, there aren’t any good flash fiction Apps for the Nokia. A compromise I should be used to by now.

The Word Press App I am typing this post into is also flawed compared to the iPhone version, which is much slicker I think. For example, typing in this much text has me frequently having to jump out then into edit mode to be able to see what I’m typing because the text window doesn’t scroll go keep up.

The official Twitter App is rather poor, and Carbon, the 3rd party client I used to use is now broken and no longer on the Windows Marketplace. In fact, quite a few WP7 Apps have just disappeared now WP8 is all the rage. None of the extended tail of support that Apple’s iTunes AppStore exhibits.

Audio oo is another Social Media stalwart of mine, but the WP7 Audio oo client has disappeared from the Marketplace, replaced by a “Get a better phone” message. Fortunately, I still have Voice Memo Lite, which on a good day with a favourable tail wind can export to AudioBoo’s web site. However, users.ust ensure they don’t exceed the 5 minute limit, as the App doesn’t impose this restriction itself.

On the whole, the Nokia experience is sub par cor what I’ve grown used yo doing easily on my Apple phone. A current example is the new Ticckle video service, which doesn’t have a WP7 version. So, I will have to use the broken iPhone for some of my Social Media duties, damning me to carrying multiple devices and tethering the two together.

Oh and did I mention the awful battery life?

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OMG! Back here again

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Well, it’s back to the trusty Nokia Lumia 800 again. This time not as an idle experiment, but because my iPhone4 has lost the power of speech; that is, the mic (internal and wired remote) do not function, which is an expensive motherboard fix on what is now a very old and “well used” (!) mobile.

The long and the short of it is I have to use my ‘backup’ smart phone until I work out what new one to buy, if any. In the meantime, I’m having to discover alternative ways of doing things I’ve gotten used to doing.. More details next post

Fiction Writing

#FlashFridayFic – “Ninety Nine Lives” (was “Blood Libel”)

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The latest Friday Fiction #36 asked for a 99 word story, based upon the following image:


Nurse with babies. Photo from Bundesarchiv, Bild 102-13429 / CC-BY-SA.

This week’s judge, Beth Peterson, wanted us to:

“[push] past the ordinary… putting aside the first thing that springs to mind (it’s almost always a cliche) or giving it such a twist as to realign ‘the usual’ completely…”

My first instinct, the thing that sprung to my mind when looking at the image, was “Child for Sale!” Certainly not a cliched response or ‘ordinary’, one would hope. However, this started me on a strange journey.

My second thought was: “Aren’t they lovely, but I couldn’t eat a whole one.” Again, rather disturbing, but I do have a dark sense of humour. However, something set alarm bells ringing about such a plot idea. I did some googling on eating babies and pretty soon hit on “Blood Libel”. What a great title, I thought for a few seconds. Then I did some background reading (see References), as I realised to use such a phrase would require me to know the issues. What surprised me wasn’t the Anti-Semitic propaganda, but how it is still happening as much as Holocaust denial. Could I do this topic? Should I do this topic?

Here is my answer, in 99 words:

“Ninety Nine Lives”
by Dr. Mike Reddy (@doctormikereddy) [99 words]

“That’s her!”

“Yes, Father…”

“…selling babies. See! They ate babies, you know.”

“No they didn’t, Father. We’ve discussed this. That’s ‘Blood libel’.”

“…ground them into flour for bread. Drank their blood like wine…!”

“No, Father, they didn’t. It was lies. You were told these lies to… help you cope with what you were ordered to do. Your pillow comfortable?”

“They pleaded at the end. Denied everything, of course, but orders were orders. ‘Nein! Nein!’ they would scream. It was all about the ‘Nein’s. I still hear them…”

“You’ve said, Father. Ninety Eight lives you’re responsible for destroying.”

“Ninety nine…”

References
Gallery to display anti-semitic art including (2003) award winning cartoon representing Ariel Sharon eating babies (2005)

Daily Kos modifies a Jaws poster with an ‘e’ and declares “Jews eat Babies” (2007)

Yahoo Answers asked “Why do Jews eat Christian babies?” (2011) told “Because they’re so delicious.” and “They need the protein.”

2013 Holocaust Memorial Day cartoon questioned for being Anti-Semitic: those agreeing and disagreeing

Uncyclopedia, the “content-free” parody of Wikipedia, entry on Yet another Jewish Trick, including Jewish eating babies, last modified May 31st 2013

Fiction Writing

#ThursThreads – “A Fate Worse than Death is Better than Dying” (Update WINNER!)

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UPDATE:

I won! Here is the official announcement.

And here’s my badge:

20130809-192008.jpg

#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 “That wasn’t really the worst of it.” is it.

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

“A Fate Worse than Death is Better than Dying”
by Dr. Mike Reddy (@doctormikereddy) [250 words]

Whoever she was, she had been medically trained. I’d given blood many times – civic duty and all that – but her handling of the hypodermic was exquisite. In and out with a quick swipe of alcohol. No venous bruising.

My silent captor slipped the rubber tube tourniquet through the arm restraint, taped some cotton wool over the puncture wound, then inspected her watch and made some notes on an Android tablet. A geek then. No iPad. Something to use to connect to her.

“Not an Apple fan then?” I smiled as empathically as I could, tied to a gurney.

“Please don’t attempt to engage my sympathetic side, because I had it surgically removed. Now, I’m going to ask you for some observations as the injection takes effect.” She picked up her tablet expectantly.

“You’re kidding me, right?” I tested the restraints again. Still just loose enough to allow circulation, but little more. “What is it you’ve dosed me with anyway? Vampire blood? Werewolf spit? Radioactive spider venom? Super Soldier Serum?”

“Very amusing, Mr… ah… Carter,” she scrolled through the data on her screen, “and uncannily accurate, if perhaps lucky in your deductions.”

“You were right with one of your guesses, but…” she paused for effect, “that wasn’t really the worst of it.”

My grin dropped to the floor, and rolled away under the trolley somewhere. “Which… one?” I asked, totally sure she was not joking. I was not sure I wanted to know.

“Now, are you feeling any… er… ill effects?”

#TickleTuesday, Fiction Writing

#FiveSentenceFiction – Learning: “A Flower for Algy”

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Lillie McFerrin Writes

Lillie McFerrin hosts a Five Sentence Fiction competition on her blog. This week’s theme is Learning.

Here is my entry:

“A Flower for Algy”

Dei sei dat wen du oprashun is dun ai wul be abel to raez mi hand an get pikd to anseh keschons to.

Mi hed hurts todaey, but I got picked and gaev gave the riteght answer to Miss Kinnian s qukestion.

Alice is pleased with my progress, but the exponential rate of development frightens her, unless it is just an excuse for suppressing the feelings we have for each other.

Alice, being intelligent teaches you a lot, but lerning, I hav fownd, taks hart not hed, and aim sad dat it tuk so long to no how ai felt abowt yoo bekos ai no its to laet.

Dei sei de oprashun werkd fo a waeil but it dint stik, so Miss Kinnian is sad to and kries wen shi seez mi.

Fiction Writing

#FinishThatThought – “Get it? Got it. Good!”

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Here is my (ineligible) submission if you don’t want to see the original piece:

[500 words, special challenge accepted]

Title: “Get it? Got it. Good!”

“His son watched as he was snatched away.”

“What? Wait… Who?”

Vague pronouns? Seriously? Not the best start to a school report.

“Ghandi.” the word came out half chewed. I glanced at the term paper in front of me. Yup the red ink surrounded the title.

Who’s gHandi?” I asked. The H forced out deliberately, like the scrape of a hastily opened curtain.

“Whatcha mean ‘Who’s Ghandi?’ You know. The Guy… the guy we had to write about!”

A general chuckle of approval from the other students seemed to bolster the young man’s resolve to dive into the water of education and yet remain completely dry. He smiled to his audience, especially those he thought were the hottest chicks. Idly I wondered if their lack of clothing was cause or effect. Either way, no one had their minds on one of the greatest political thinkers of the last century.

“By any chance, do you mean Gandhi?

“Huh?”

“G A N D H I” Each letter alliterated in chalk on the board. “There is no ‘Ghandi’.”

“There is no… Is this some Zen thing, Mr Coulter?”

“No, Mr. Carter. Although Gandhi was influenced by many religions, his practical philosophy of passive resistance was based on Hindu and Jain teachings”

“Who’s Jane, Mr Coulter? And what’s a hen d…”

“Zac. We aren’t doing the ‘What’s a hen do?’ joke again are we?”

From the back of the class “Lay eggs!” was heard from various quarters, accompanied by titters of intolerance. Clearly we were doing the ‘hen do’ joke again.

“Who can tell me what ‘passive resistance’ is?” I scanned the auditorium hopefully.

“Ask Sandy. She’s pretty passive in her resistance most Friday nights!”

Zac high fived his nearest conspirator, as most of the males in the room hooted their approval. I expected to be warmed by Sandy’s reddened cheeks, but she simply hooked arms with her neighbours in sisterly silence. Something, I wasn’t sure what, was brewing.

“That’s ok, Mr. C…” she silenced me before I had the chance to admonish the boys, “If we have to ‘put up’ we won’t ‘put out’ will we girls…”

A chorus of ‘uh uh’s, ‘na hah’s and ‘no way’s swept across the classroom. I shouldn’t have laughed, but the boys were slower on the uptake.

“What’s she saying?” Zac gazed round the room. His compadres were suddenly more interested in the floor or the window. They got it.

“Without wanting to put words in Miss Lawson’s mouth, but I think she’s wanting an apology, or none of you will have… er… dates this weekend. Is that correct, Sandy?”

“Indeed it is, Mr. C.” Sandy flicked round expectantly to Zac. “We’re waiting… Mr. Carter…” she smirked conspiratorially at the other young women. They got it.

“Ok. Sorry.” Zac slowly deflated.

“Sandy, a perfect example of ‘passive resistance’ if I ever saw one. You get ten out of ten.”

“Gee, Mr. C! That’s my first ever A!” she grinned up at me, “Awesomes!”

“Sandy, you deserved it.”

Fiction Writing

Mid-Week Blues-Buster #MWBB – “…”

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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: “…”
[500 words]

Eireann (Ireland) was the prima facie, but before The Silence there were reports from parts of Africa and France too. Wales went so quickly that only reports from the border confirmed that territory as being part of the initial wave of quiet that washed over the World. At first the rest of the planet assumed technical problems, or cyber terrorism, to be the cause.

When the phenomenon we now call The Silence took 99.9% of 7.2 billion souls, the few of us unaffected learned quickly to mask ourselves. The alternative for those not pawky enough to – how did they used to put it? – see the writing on the wall was quite horrific. Slavery at best. Mutilation or execution in the worst cases. It never ceases to amaze me how little communication a mob needs to become a mob.

We few (who can) call ourselves Muties. A bitter irony. The rest have no words for us, for they have no words. The Silence saw to that. At first it was like listening to a song from another land. People spoke, but the meaning had been stripped away, leaving just the melody. In all the confusion, it took a while to realise it wasn’t like a stroke depriving individuals of language. Hearing words as words was the first thing to go. The second symptom was loss of word formation. Other Muties I have contacted confirmed the same thing: loss of comprehension then composition. And it was not limited to vocal communication. People just stopped being able to write, then read, then for the majority to think.

Confusion spread like a plague, followed by conflict and combat. Maybe the World being so dependent on the Internet and its ubiquitous instant connection between nations was what rendered the lack of the concept of communication so horrific. Overnight entire cultures imploded. Dominant survivors emerged as the new leaders. The power of alpha males (and, in fact, females), seemed to not need the nuances of language. The fist and the foot quickly spread as the new punctuation in our lives.

Eventually, a form of physical gesturing began to emerge; Muties were particularly effective at this, but that was a two edged sword. Ownership of books, or any knowledge storage device, became dangerous to all but the most powerful. Yet the thuggery of the dark years of The Silence eventually passed. Without words to worry the weary fear became a useless tactic. The lack of difference in interpretation levelled the population in a single generation. A new peace descended on the scattered hamlets of the inhabitable continents. The Silence proved mightier than the pen and the sword.

That is when the true deliverers of our salvation made themselves known, coming wordlessly among us, signing a new dawn. Revelation. A becoming of beings worthy to be brothers in a shared future. They thought we would be grateful for this cosmic lesson in humility. Were we ready to begin again, they asked simultaneously across the Globe?

We said “No.”

Dr. Mike Reddy