Thursday, February 28, 2013

Five Sentence Fiction – Empty

The Five Sentence Fiction is a simple idea:
Five Sentence Fiction is about packing a powerful punch in a tiny fist. Each week I will post a one word inspiration, then anyone wishing to participate will write a five sentence story based on the prompt word. The word does not have to appear in your five sentences, just use it for direction.
This week, Lillie chose the word "Empty," and here I find a town of our ghastly past.

***
The city was a forgotten relic of the Cold War, hidden deep in the Urals of what was Soviet Russia.  
Nothing lived there now except the grasses that blew in the breeze -- a near desert surrounded by lush fields where even the wildlife does not roam.  
Once a center of science for the State, this place, now empty, stood as a stark reminder that man is not God, and when we climb high we fall further. 
 The craters of destroyed lives will be found where we crash.  
Weaponizing life can produce the greatest death, which is what happened here; and even the harshest winter’s cold cannot kill that which soiled the once pristine ground. 

Thursday, February 21, 2013

Five Sentence Fiction – Abandoned


The Five Sentence Fiction is a simple idea:
Five Sentence Fiction is about packing a powerful punch in a tiny fist. Each week I will post a one word inspiration, then anyone wishing to participate will write a five sentence story based on the prompt word. The word does not have to appear in your five sentences, just use it for direction.
This week, Lillie chose the word "Abandoned," and the subject of today's word-fest leaves an unfortunate taste...

***
She bit me, and I remember lots of blood--my own--and a torn out throat…also mine.
Then there was a blur of events, it was as if time had slowed down: I knew I was dying--but I didn't.
She transformed me, somehow, and when she fed me some of her blood--cut from her own breast--I felt more alive than I had ever before.
And while I lay there on the cold, wet concrete, twisting, lurching, retching, and burning from within, she calmly stood up and walked away.
When it was over, I was like her and she was gone--abandoned as a neonate vampire with no direction, no tutelage, and a hunger enough to eat the whole world.

Sunday, February 17, 2013

Win one of 4 copies of "Memories of the Dead"

Over at Sophie Davis Books, you can win one of four digital copies of my book, "Memories of the Dead." Head over there and enter...you could win!

Saturday, February 16, 2013

Five Sentence Fiction – Cherish

The Five Sentence Fiction is a simple idea:
Five Sentence Fiction is about packing a powerful punch in a tiny fist. Each week I will post a one word inspiration, then anyone wishing to participate will write a five sentence story based on the prompt word. The word does not have to appear in your five sentences, just use it for direction.
This week, Lillie chose the word "Cherish," and this was the vision in my head.

***

"Cherish your life, your love, and your dreams, dear friends," he spoke at our wedding.

"Know that love has entered your life, understand the power of your dreams, and work to bring them to glory."

The room was silent as we all listened, never before were there such wise words from him -- he who used to tell us fart-jokes and belch.

Hidden within each of us is a gem, concealed, and each facet has the chance to brighten a life.

As with all things: keep the luster, and cast away the stone.

Thursday, February 7, 2013

Five Sentence Fiction – Purple

The Five Sentence Fiction is a simple idea:
Five Sentence Fiction is about packing a powerful punch in a tiny fist. Each week I will post a one word inspiration, then anyone wishing to participate will write a five sentence story based on the prompt word. The word does not have to appear in your five sentences, just use it for direction.
This week, Lillie chose the word "Purple," and this time....I go off on a very odd tangent. Roses are red,... bruises are purple.

***

The sting of his slap hadn't even begun to fade, but the raised welt he left on her bare behind was already forming.

As he held up a mirror so she could admire his handiwork, she squealed in enthusiastic approval – the view was breathtaking.

In an almost perfect imprint of the shape of his hand, the outlines of his finger marks shown clear in red and deep burgundy.

As the blood pooled under her translucent skin, darker hues began to form -- multiple shades of blue and slickly brown merged and filled fully to the outline he had left.

"Perfect!" She moaned, "You always leave such a good impression!"