Monthly Archives: May 2012

Flash Fiction Challenge from Chuck Wendig

Chuck Wendig at Terribleminds issued a flash fiction challenge using a random sentence generator:

http://terribleminds.com/ramble/2012/05/25/flash-fiction-challenge-one-random-sentence/

What follows is my entry:

“The damned boils above a beloved.” That was all the doctor said.

I looked at her and asked, “’Above a beloved’ what?”

“Tentacle.” She smiled, small and dismissive.

A tentacle. Great, my wife’s doctor had gone off the deep end. My wife’s breathing wasn’t good. I looked at the doctor with my best I’m really trying to understand face, and tried, “But my wife doesn’t have tentacles.”

Her smile became vicious, and her green eyes grew wide. “But I do!”

And then a tentacle dripping with slime sprouted from her forehead and wrapped around my throat. I couldn’t breathe.

“The Great Old Ones will see you now.” She smiled as she said it, but my sight was going black and the fear was trying to help me claw apart her tentacle, so I really don’t know what kind it was.

Then I noticed her sharp teeth getting closer…

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Why I am a writer…

It all started 31 years ago, when I was 14. I had sent a short story to Isaac Asimov’s Science Fiction Magazine; and Mr. Asimov wrote me a hand-written letter saying that I should keep trying, but they did not accept submissions from people so young.

So, I am a writer. I started writing poetry, which developed my voice, and now I have returned to fiction. It is my calling-it is who I am.

Soon I’ll be publishing a free book of poetry through Smashwords.com, and then more will follow. I’ll submit my stories to magazines and my novels to agents. Then we’ll see where this leads.

But no matter what, I am a writer…

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But Ever I Go Needing

In rare moments, I smile.

Making my water bitter,
I have passed by
Gentle moments
Hovering close enough to kiss:
This I now see.

Butterflies burst through –
Ever am I chrysalis…

Forming meadows in mind,
Recalling the child lost:
Eroding the walls,
Emerging my better man…

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Lunchtime

In the silence of vision
Was the cool of air
The white of light
And the blue of sky
Much was resting
The heaviness of space
Became the heaviness
Of silence and time
All was languid
Life moved on
Cars meandered down the street
People flocked along the sidewalk
And all the signals silently marked time

But in one room high above
An old man clutched his chest
Unable to call for help

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Voice

And your brain comes raining down

Making you think

Making you ache

And you stagger forward

Reaching out

Looking in

You are just a whirlwind

In the rose bush

But at least that gives you

Some kind of a voice

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Just thought I’d share a poem…

Soul Bridges

 

Life’s fires dot the mind’s rolling hillsides.

Shadow figures dance around and around

In the blood beat that echoes your darkness:

Moving in you is the sound of lost chances.

 

Somewhere there are deep sleeping memories—

Images ghosting quick before your eyes…

Fragrant nights of love and hands holding on…

A night when your soul was still so alive…

 

I can see the light in your cold distance.

Trembling in your dark coat of old sadness,

Your lantern burns low but still it dances—

And tonight I see that your soul still lives.

 

Paper dreams writhe deep in the shadowed black.

You hold onto them though the flames still eat…

Your scream is a holy prayer and a cry

To mark where your choices have passed you by…

 

Alone in your room, you just want to ask

Why it feels that life’s a massive attack.

But the darkness gathers it’s shadows round,

And you hear your own silence… as always.

 

Trembling in the dark, cloaked in your sadness,

I can see the light in your cold distance.

Your lantern still dances, but it burns low:

And tonight I see that your soul still lives.

 

Life’s fires dot the mind’s rolling hillsides.

Shadow figures dance around and around

In the blood beat that echoes your darkness:

Moving in you is the sound of lost chances.

 

You find yourself on the bridge that crosses

The river that spills out into the sea.

Your mind is full of your drowning voices—

Please don’t leave the bridge that links you to me…

 

I can see the light in our old distance.

Trembling in our dark coats of cold sadness,

Our lanterns burn low but still they dance:

And tonight I see that our souls still live…

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