Advice for Writing, Editing, Reading, and Life.
New posts on Mondays (for non-fiction) or Fridays (for fiction)
The Song of the Stars, Part 3
Gleaming silver spheres lined the shore. For a season they sat. Unmoving. Mysterious. Terrifying and beautiful.
The Song of the Stars, Part 2
The landlord spewed his drink. “Buy the land?” Incredulity dripped from his words like the wine from his beard. He examined the writ of commerce. “You’ve made just one mistake; This scrap o’ parchment only says you can buy land.”
The Song of the Stars, Part 1
As a girl, Alessi would gaze at the night sky. Without a formal education, she did not know the names of the stars, but that didn’t stop her from dreaming of them. She imagined that they were singing to her, a whispered song of what they wished to be called. The stars filled her with purpose and guidance. She couldn’t have explained why or how, but she knew that her life had been laced with destiny.
Obadiah’s Third Part
Obadiah took a deep breath and entered from stage left. The white-hot lime blinded him, but his courage did not falter.
The Patron Saint
Pitmaster James awoke hanging from his feet in a tiny room. The smell made James retch. Everything was shrouded in gloom. A puddle of something wet reflected the sickly flame of a lone candle. James’ heartbeat punctuated the dull ache in his head with spikes of agony.
Give Me Your Answer True
Daisy clambered through a broken window. She left tracks in the thick dust as she explored. Debris littered the floor. At the end of a wide corridor, splattered on double doors, a question: ARE YOU REAL?
I, the Undersigned, Do Hereby Release Orion Prime Enterprises from All Liability
Krastin, wearing a huge, plastered-on grin, waved to the raffle winners. Should he look grim and mournful? He still wasn’t sure. Would you rather see a smiling face greeting you warmly? Or would you want a clue, a facial tick, a twitch of silent body language as a warning?
You’ve Gotta Be Knitting Me
Marge put nimble spiders to shame. She had never dropped a stitch, despite all her years knitting. Even with these clumsy, thick fingers, she coaxed yarn into textiles as a maestro coaxes soundwaves into symphonies.
L’Ultima Prima Donna
“How old are you?” she asked.
“Old enough,” the apothecary replied as he busied himself snatching up small bottles, mixing their contents into his mortar, grinding with his pestle.
Stenchwing
Sulfurous fumes wafted from Stenchwing. He knew that voice. “Oh, Sapientia… Hi.”
“Gaudi, how are you?! It’s been what? Four millen—”
“Five actually. Yeah. It’s uh, Stenchwing now.”
The Last Great Adventure (pt. 7)
After checking inside a few of the now opened buildings, Teddy and Wes came away disappointed. Each room of each chamber was empty. No furnishings or artwork, no evidence that the rooms had ever been used, had even been designed for a use.
Twitter Blues
A very brief flash fiction piece written in response to a prompt by Laura Cooney (@LozzaWriting).
The Last Great Adventure (pt. 6)
Although they passed some intersections, neither Wes nor Teddy wanted to turn aside from this primary thoroughfare unless they reached a dead end or some other destination. Eventually, just as Teddy opened his mouth to suggest turning back, the street opened onto a deserted plaza.
The Last Great Adventure (pt. 5)
The deeper they pressed into the massive chamber, the larger it turned out to be. After walking a few hundred meters, they noticed another large pillar, identical to the first. Overall, the room’s dimensions resembled a corridor, though on a much grander scale. The walls on the left and right seemed mostly natural, though some areas bore marks where rock had been roughly chiseled away.
The Last Great Adventure (pt. 4)
They located the sinkhole without much trouble. The smallish thing described by Conklin had grown in the decades since his passing, and after walking in the direction indicated by Conklin’s directions, they couldn’t have missed it even had they been blindfolded.
The Last Great Adventure (pt. 3)
During the night, the temperature dropped to be unseasonably cool, and thick fog settled over the woods. Upon awakening, Teddy felt the heart-stopping moment of panic that comes from transitioning from a familiar dream into unfamiliar surroundings. The thick mist shrouded the world in shades of gloom, and he felt completely alone. Even Wes’ slumbering body, no more than six feet away, was difficult to make out in the heavy fog.
The Last Great Adventure (pt. 2)
Wes had always felt that fire was like the truth. It was powerful and useful, but would burn you if you mishandled it. It could sweep through a forest and clear away debris while leaving the sturdiest trees largely undamaged, or it could sweep through a house and leave nothing but ash and pain. Truth could illuminate or blind. So Wes judiciously contained the truth as best he could, only letting out just enough, at just the right times.
The Last Great Adventure (pt. 1)
“Where do you think the creek goes?” Wes asked.
“Into the forest.” Teddy said with a shrug.
“No I mean after that. Where does it lead? Do you think it goes through the whole forest?”
“I don’t know. I guess I never thought about it.” Teddy, already steeped in thoughts about the advent of their senior year in high school, was prepared to let the subject drop, but not Wes.
“Let’s find out!”
The Further Adventures of Chuck and Bill
Chuck and Bill had no way to get home,
So together they started to roam.
They took a big chance
And headed toward France
Braving the Channel’s seafoam.