Flashback: Plot Deviation and a few very short stories
Last week was Microcosms 100th anniversary. Having been part of this right from the start, I made sure I took part in this one. When the competition began, stories were only allowed to be 100 words max and last week you could opt for that word count as a special challenge - which I took, and which managed runner-up position.
Plot Deviation
Elements: werewolf, publishing house, fairy tale
Word count: 100 (challenge)
Unread proofs lurked on old oak desks awaiting the fresh eyes of morning. The moon’s soft beam picked out the one remaining worker. Her golden curls tumbled across the pages as she devoured the story within but it left her hungry. The tale was too short. She picked up another. This was too hard, too improbable, too many long words like lupophobia and lycanthrope. Reject, she scribbled across it. Another book. This was just right, but she never got to the end. The moon rose higher and a howl shattered the silence of the building. Goldilocks padded to the door.
Very Short Stories (#vss365)
These prompts are run by the FlashDogs on Twitter and a new word is given every day. I'm not as regular in participating as others, managing only a couple a week normally but it is a good writing exercise. Here are some of my most recent:
#Fold
Yoga was not her thing. Susan could not twist herself into the positions demanded. But she could fold up others. You only had to look into her trunk to see how good she was. Trouble was you would soon be packed away too.
#Close
Close. Closer. Closest. A superlative of nearness. Tight. Tighter. Tightest. My hand is a vice. Beat. Beating. Beaten. My soul unskinned.
#Wheel
She had been broken on the wheel, bone by bone, a torture in the round; such was the circle of life. And hers was about to begin again as her spirit fled the burning stake to seek an empty womb, a breeding of revenge.
#Kind
They were two of a kind. He would've given her his heart - if he had one. She in turn found she'd lost her heart to him. A painful experience from which she never recovered, her undead body shuffling after his. Together forever.
And finally ...
Janet Reid, Literary Agent posted one of her occasional competitions recently. The words to be included were: bon, kismet, fate, kismet, luck, chance. They could be used as they were or as part of other words, the only rule is that the order of letters in the word doesn't change. Here is my offering ... with apologies to Shakespeare.
Something Wicked
The Fates settled around their bonfire of souls, a relaxed gathering arranged for Cousin Kismet’s birthday. He was late.
“You sure you sent the invitation?” asked Clotho.
“Recorded delivery. He signed for it. Look.” Lachesis plucked a card from her pocket.
A twig snapped. “He’s here. Ready, girls?”
“By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked …”
“No, dear,” said Clotho to Atropos, now suddenly awake. “It’s Kismet, not Macbeth.”
A tiny creature hopped towards them.
“Sister?”
Lachesis looked at the signature again, Kermit. Oh. Mischance had sent him, but on the upside they were short of toe of frog.
Plot Deviation
Elements: werewolf, publishing house, fairy tale
Word count: 100 (challenge)
Unread proofs lurked on old oak desks awaiting the fresh eyes of morning. The moon’s soft beam picked out the one remaining worker. Her golden curls tumbled across the pages as she devoured the story within but it left her hungry. The tale was too short. She picked up another. This was too hard, too improbable, too many long words like lupophobia and lycanthrope. Reject, she scribbled across it. Another book. This was just right, but she never got to the end. The moon rose higher and a howl shattered the silence of the building. Goldilocks padded to the door.
Very Short Stories (#vss365)
These prompts are run by the FlashDogs on Twitter and a new word is given every day. I'm not as regular in participating as others, managing only a couple a week normally but it is a good writing exercise. Here are some of my most recent:
#Fold
Yoga was not her thing. Susan could not twist herself into the positions demanded. But she could fold up others. You only had to look into her trunk to see how good she was. Trouble was you would soon be packed away too.
#Close
Close. Closer. Closest. A superlative of nearness. Tight. Tighter. Tightest. My hand is a vice. Beat. Beating. Beaten. My soul unskinned.
#Wheel
She had been broken on the wheel, bone by bone, a torture in the round; such was the circle of life. And hers was about to begin again as her spirit fled the burning stake to seek an empty womb, a breeding of revenge.
#Kind
They were two of a kind. He would've given her his heart - if he had one. She in turn found she'd lost her heart to him. A painful experience from which she never recovered, her undead body shuffling after his. Together forever.
And finally ...
Janet Reid, Literary Agent posted one of her occasional competitions recently. The words to be included were: bon, kismet, fate, kismet, luck, chance. They could be used as they were or as part of other words, the only rule is that the order of letters in the word doesn't change. Here is my offering ... with apologies to Shakespeare.
Something Wicked
The Fates settled around their bonfire of souls, a relaxed gathering arranged for Cousin Kismet’s birthday. He was late.
“You sure you sent the invitation?” asked Clotho.
“Recorded delivery. He signed for it. Look.” Lachesis plucked a card from her pocket.
A twig snapped. “He’s here. Ready, girls?”
“By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked …”
“No, dear,” said Clotho to Atropos, now suddenly awake. “It’s Kismet, not Macbeth.”
A tiny creature hopped towards them.
“Sister?”
Lachesis looked at the signature again, Kermit. Oh. Mischance had sent him, but on the upside they were short of toe of frog.
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