Posts Tagged ‘short stories’

, , , ,

The Wednesday Wiki-Prompt

In Writing on October 3, 2012 at 12:35 pm

Wikipedia

People who read this website know I often write stories in response to weekly writing prompts like Madison Woods’ Friday Fictioneers, Lillie McFerrin’s Five Sentence Fiction and the Trifecta Writing Challenge (more accurately, people who read this site are often reading it because they, too, participate in these very same prompts).

Well, in the last couple of weeks, while working on my stories for these prompts, I’ve found myself turning more frequently to a new source of inspiration: Wikipedia. Something about the process of learning something new – call it flash research – gets my creativity going and I end up really enjoying the pieces that come out of it.

My stories Pietro Barbino and Przypadek, and yesterday’s The Battle of Bicocca all had roots in quick Wikipedia research, and this got me thinking – why not use Wikipedia to start a brand new writing prompt?

Are You Up For (Another) Challenge?

So I’d like to propose an idea to you, my readers and fellow writers: how about a new weekly writing challenge where we take the day’s featured Wikipedia article and write a short story off of it?

Say Say Say (1983, Paul McCartney & Michael Ja...

These sad clowns will be even sadder if you’re not into this idea… just Say Say Saying

I’m going to start doing it anyway, based on whatever article is featured each Wednesday. Today it’s an article on “Say Say Say” – a song written and performed by Paul McCartney and Michael Jackson.

There will only be a few rules. First, the stories should be 500 words or fewer. Second, they should be done by the following Wednesday. And third – there is no third!

So what do you think? Will you join me? Do you even have time in your schedule to fit in another writing prompt? It might be slow to build at first, but I think a weekly prompt that involves a little bit of research could be useful (and knowing some of the Fictioneers and FSF-ers, I’m already really interested to see what you might do with this week’s prompt).

Let me know below – I’d love to have you on board!

, , ,

The Battle of Bicocca

In Writing on October 2, 2012 at 8:26 pm

It’s week three (for me at least) of the Trifecta Writing Challenge, and this week the prompt is uneasy. The idea for this came to me pretty easily though, with a little help from Wikipedia (more on that here ). Give it a read, leave your comments and criticism below, and then think about jumping into the fray for next week’s prompt!
Map of Lombardy in 1522, at the time of the Ba...

The Battle of Bicocca

Albert had wept as he crossed the field — in full view of his men, he had wept like a child — but it didn’t matter, for all his men were dead. Now the blood clung to his hands and face and ran down his chest in sticky gobs.

Alone in his tent he lit a long match, and then a candle, and then a dark-leafed cigar. He rolled it above the flame, drawing carefully to perfect the burn, and still he wept.

“How will I tell them?” he whispered.

He had lost men before – not these numbers, perhaps, not thousands – but he had lost them. He had seen men with pikes through their necks, men trampled by horses, men destroyed by the fierce blast of the arquebus, but…but that smile, that uneasy smile, was what unraveled him now – that terror worse by far than all the death and misery he’d ever witnessed.

“Trust me,” he said to himself, remembering. “Trust me.”

And Michel had trusted him, not as his commander, but as his brother – and so deeply that all those years, all those years since they had been young together, had flashed with hope in that one smile, shaded though it was by doubt.

Now, in the darkness of his tent, Albert wrote his letters home – one announcing his brother’s death, and one that he had not yet decided to send.

Related Stories: Pietro Barbino and Przypadek, with an ever expanding collection of the flashiest of fiction on my (gasp!) fiction page.

, , , ,

Through The Paifang

In Fiction on September 28, 2012 at 10:55 am

Happy Friday, everyone, and welcome (almost) to the weekend. How about a short story to celebrate? Friday Fictioneers is hosted by Madison Woods and this week’s photo prompt comes from Sandra Crook.

Give it a read and let me know what you think, then jump into the fray and write one of your own!

Paifang a decorative Chinese archway

Through The Paifang

My father led me up the trail, through the painted paifang and under the yunnan trees. This was the place of our ancestors, and here my father knelt to pray.

Read the rest of this entry »

, , ,

Przypadek

In Fiction on September 24, 2012 at 9:35 pm

This is my second attempt at doing the Trifecta Writing Challenge, and this week I decided to pull out all the stops and tackle a question that has troubled laymen and academics alike for ages: what do Polish people think about when they’re sad? (I’m starting with some levity because my story feels a little depressing this week).

If you agree, why don’t you head on over to the Trifecta Writing Challenge page and try submitting something a little bit happier for us to read, huh? Seriously, though: Comments, criticism and links to your stories are welcome below.

Movie Theater

Przypadek

Every night the cinema plays the same film; I have seen it a hundred times, this beautiful work by Kieslowski.

Read the rest of this entry »

, , ,

Bernie

In Fiction on September 21, 2012 at 10:37 pm

I’m extremely late to the party (especially considering Friday comes to some parts of the world when it’s still Thursday here) but I’ve finally gotten to my Friday Fictioneers post. Yet again it’s something a little different for me (I don’t usually write much of anything related to religion) and it’s way, way, way too long (not so much flash fiction as extended-full-frontal-nudity fiction) but hopefully some of you will make it to the end.

Bernie

Bernie stood at the mirror and flexed his new wings, wincing as they pulled taut the raw-sewn wound. They were heavy and strong.

Read the rest of this entry »

, , , ,

Dead Man Walking

In Fiction on September 20, 2012 at 11:01 pm

Hospital

Dead Man Walking

It wasn’t until I died that I finally saw my life clearly – not until this morning, that is, when I woke up on a cold gurney with a Y-shaped scar on my chest, a bitter taste in my mouth and a lipstick stain on my cheek. Read the rest of this entry »

, , , , ,

Pietro Barbino

In Writing on September 18, 2012 at 10:55 pm

In the spirit of writing more, this week I’ve decided to tackle another writing challenge, specifically the Trifecta Writing Challenge, where we’re given a one-word prompt on which to base a 33 to 333 word story. This week the word is ample.

Now, in the Boboli Gardens in Florence there is a statue of a fat dwarf sitting naked astride a giant turtle, and for some reason this was the very first thing I thought of when I read the prompt (but let’s not read too much into that, ok?). The statue is of Pietro Barbino, court jester to Cosimo I de’Medici, a Tuscan Duke of the 16th century.

But I won’t bore you with Wikipedia research. Let’s just get to his story, shall we?

Pietro Barbino, Cosimo I's dwarf jester

I took this picture of Mr. Barbino myself. You should be thankful it’s a little blurry.

Pietro Barbino

Pietro Barbino was short of stature, ample of bosom, and drunk of wine.  He tottered to the fountain and sat with a groan.

Read the rest of this entry »

, , , ,

Solitary Confinement

In Fiction on September 14, 2012 at 11:47 pm

I’m a little late to the Friday Fictioneers party, but I’m still getting a hang of my new schedule so bear with me. The prompt this week dealt with spiders, so in keeping with a lot of my posts recently I went creepy with it. I’m not sure whether I like this one or this earlier post better when it comes to my spider-related writings, but I’ll let you be the judge. Thanks, as always, to Madison Woods for hosting the prompts, and thanks to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for providing this week’s picture.

Solitary Confinement

So dark. Black. And without time, just like death.

Read the rest of this entry »

, , , ,

The Mill In The Kip

In Writing on September 7, 2012 at 6:27 pm

This week I’ve done something very different (for me at least) for Friday Fictioneers: A poem!

Maybe it’s because I’ve been gone for a couple weeks and I wanted my glorious return to be different, or maybe it’s just because I started writing and noticed a lot of rhythm in the words and decided to go all in (who can really say?), but whatever the reason, this is where I ended up.

As always, constructive criticism is welcome (be gentle! Poetry isn’t my thing), and head on over to Madison Woods’ website for past weeks, sweet writings and authorial goodness.

Who Lives There?      

Deep in the Kip is a stony mill,
and close by the mill is a stream,
dark and small and easy to miss in the shade of the close-spaced trees.

Read the rest of this entry »

, , , , , ,

Five Sentence Fiction: Story Time

In Fiction on August 19, 2012 at 12:47 pm

Caleb set down his drink and gave the negro a hard, searching look; in the silence, the sounds of the night seemed to swell outside the window, pressing in on the cabin.

“I ain’t saying I’m ungrateful for the offer, doc, or for what you’ve done for me here, but you’ve gotta look at this thing realistically: a negro and a cripple against an army?  What exactly would your plan be?”

“First I’d educate you on my name, so you can stop calling me negro,” the negro said sharply, but he smiled just the same, “and then I’d tell you how I come to find myself in this place, at which time I suspect my plan will be clear enough.”

Caleb sat up in the bed and propped his pillow at the small of his back, never once taking his eyes from the doctor: “Well go on then,” he said at last, “I ain’t going nowhere.”

***

The Story So Far…Five Sentences at a Time

Chapter 1

The fog crept across the plain, wispy and wavering like a line of ghostly scavengers stooping low to inspect the dead. Caleb felt the dew it had deposited on his eyelids – cold, liquid coins — and awoke, sorely disappointed to find that he was still alive.

Read the rest of this entry »