Inktober part three

[image error]Mr. Buckley’s last rites and ceremony fence by noseforpics, flickr

So here are a few more prompts and examples of the fifty word prompt based fiction I conceptualized and wrote last year. (And please see the previous two posts regarding this topic.)

In writing to prompts I try to come at the most sideways angle possible. It is not unlike writing any fiction piece. In your mind at least layer in setting, the ground situation, and all the senses.

Think of who the narrator is: whether it is a first person narrator, a third limited narrator, or a more omniscient narrator who knows more than any one character could know. Sometimes I prefer just to try to be open to a feel. If I am lucky, a voice and tone suggests itself. If not, this is when I mine for details.

I like using unreliable narrators for the first person, either they are in extreme emotional distress or are just vulnerable in some way. I like gossipy omniscient narrators or ones who are dark and snarky like the kind you would hear on Disney’s Haunted Mansion ride. At least I use that darkness in Inktober. I think dark yet hilarious tombstones though the options are literally limitless.

I know this is a dark time in our nation’s history, but we need escapes. If you want to enjoy or try writing spooky, you could do worse. I’ll post more soon.

[image error]eyes down by Petras Gagilas, flickr

Ghost

My ghost is unhappy. She says we haven’t spent much time together.

She complains while I’m in the bath, sipping wine.

I feel myself nodding off, my chin dipping into the water while the tub fills.

Now this is what we needed, she says. Girl time n’ special k.

[image error]fangs_by_dominiquefx_d2d7lcj DeviantArt

Tasty

Bitsy got drunk at the Halloween party. She pretended to bite men’s necks but secretly slipped off her fangs and nuzzled them and kissed them, both married and single. “Mmm, tasty,” she said.  Later we found her fallen off the curb, neck broken. Rumor had it she had been shoved.

[image error]The Leaky Cauldron by Richard August, flickr

Mindless

The kind of flesh the ogress prefers are the wayward, the runaways, the unwanted. They cook up nice in their own fat while mothers, mindless of their absence, decorate for the holiday. Oregano and olive oil go nicely with neglect.

[image error]You’re in my Heart by Katie Kend, flickr

Ring

Imagine Alicia, novice mortician, fevered klepto, having extracted the ring from Mrs. Nováková’s corpse, waking in the dead of night to bony fingers round her throat, crushing her windpipe. The corpse exits the smashed window, abandoning sheets of skin on the glass.