Posts Tagged ‘trifecta writing challenge’

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The Treatment

In Fiction on April 22, 2013 at 11:17 pm

siemens konvulsator electroshock therapy machine (image from wikipedia)

The Treatment

I ducked and followed Meher into the narrow hall. Wide bands of rusty light shone beneath the corrugated steel roof; dust motes danced upon the strands. The air was damp and the walls were black with mold.

“Is it safe for the inmates?” I asked.

Meher smiled, barely turning.

“By your reputation, I am thinking you don’t much care what is safe, yes?” He laughed. “But don’t worry, doctor; these men cannot be harmed.”

These men… they were everywhere and nowhere at the same time. Their silence, their stillness—approaching catatonia—unsettled me in a way that my work rarely does. They lined the walls and huddled on stairs, clutching their bony frames, watching us pass with milk-white eyes.

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The Aquilifer

In Fiction on April 19, 2013 at 4:56 pm

Gravestone for Roman soldier, showing the vexi...

The Aquilifer

The aquilifer stood, his golden eagle red with Roman blood. The entire century had been lost in the charge, and only enemies remained.

He made himself ready—as all who stand for something must—to fight.

This is my story for the weekend’s Trifextra challenge, which was to use the words Charge, Century and Lost to write a 36 word story. (An aquilifer, for those interested, is the Roman standard bearer responsible for carrying the eagle, the symbol of the legion, into battle).

Happy weekend everyone!

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Shapes in the Shade

In Fiction on April 15, 2013 at 3:55 pm

mountains

Shapes in the Shade

 “Your color isn’t too good, kid. Maybe you’d better have a seat.”

Tanner was standing at the window, the setting sun full on his face; he tipped his revolver to spill the spent shells on the cabin floor.

“Or you could make yourself useful,” he said with a sideways glance, “and fetch me the speedloaders from the satchel there.”

I wasn’t in much of a mood to be sassed, but I wasn’t in much of a mood to talk back either, so I did as Tanner asked and brought him a handful. He eyed me as he took one and loaded it.

“Say something, kid.”

I turned and looked out the window, down the hill, to the woods where several dark shapes lay motionless in the shade. Read the rest of this entry »

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The Gods Are Sleeping

In Fiction on April 12, 2013 at 7:02 pm

Dark sky

The Gods Are Sleeping

“The gods are sleeping, dreaming the world—dreaming us—but their dreams have been darker of late: Loam turns to ash and the sun retreats.”

“We must act, lest these nightmares wake them.”

(photo credit: theseanster93)

Let’s get metaphysical. This is my response to the weekend’s Trifextra writing challenge, which was to write 33 words inspired by this Paulo Coehlo quote:

“It’s the possibility of having a dream come true that makes life interesting.”

Obviously I took the prompt pretty broadly, but hopefully it still worked out. I thought making it a dialogue between two unnamed speakers would give a good bit of mystery to it, but I’d love to here what you think.

Happy weekend everyone!

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The Root

In Fiction on April 9, 2013 at 1:35 pm

victorian bedroom pietro barbino

The Root

“Come, Pietro,” Cosimo said. “I have fodder for your jests.”

Pietro cast aside his wineskin and eyed his master with as much contempt as he thought wise.

“Oh, don’t pout, Pietro,” Cosimo said softly. “It was all in fun. Isn’t that what I pay you for?”

“You humiliated me.”

“Are you to tell me that’s the first time a woman has laughed at your deformity? Seen that stub between your stunted legs?”

“Lady Eleanora didn’t laugh,” Pietro replied meekly. Cosimo bristled his black mustache.

“No, quite right,” he said. “But as it turned out she wasn’t very particular, was she? Read the rest of this entry »

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My Advice

In Fiction on April 5, 2013 at 11:45 am

Old Pocket Watch

My Advice

The universe erupts and expands.
Fourteen billion years pass.
You live and die.
And after eons more
the universe chills to a thermodynamic nothing.
My advice?
Get warm,
make some music
and eat.

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Make it Rain, Nana

In Fiction on April 2, 2013 at 10:52 am

English: An origami flower made of multiple te...

Make it Rain, Nana

“I wanna thank you all for coming out here on this somber occasion, ya know? For coming out here to celebrate the life of a terrific lady.

“My nana, Margaret O’Shaunnessy, was the sweetest old woman in the world. She always had a caramel or a hard candy in her pocket for the kids, and she was generous as hell with her money, am I right? A real standup broad.

“Those of us who were fortunate enough to know her best got to witness a real rebirth toward the end there. When Grampa Charles left us—God rest his soul—Nana went through a pretty tough time. But then she discovered this passion, you know, this zest for life she never knew she had.

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In the Details

In Fiction on March 29, 2013 at 10:58 am

John Henry Fuseli The Nightmare

In the Details

The night comes

and the devil wakes.

(His mind is restless).

You climb from bed in a rage

to confront the intruder,

but find only mirrors, faces—

and sins etched in the details

These 33 words are for the Trifecta Writing Challenge’s weekend Trifextra (I’m trying to do more of these shorter challenges). Click through for more micro stories, and have a great weekend!

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A Curious Woman

In Fiction on March 26, 2013 at 10:40 pm

test roll #3

A Curious Woman

Pietro Barbino shuffled quietly into the Duke’s great room and, finding it empty, smiled and turned to leave.

“Stay, Pietro,” a voice said, and a slender figure appeared in the doorway at the end of the room. It was the duchess, in a crimson silk gown that brushed the tops of her bare feet and clung tightly to her Read the rest of this entry »

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Patient Zero

In Fiction on March 19, 2013 at 10:54 am

bridge river rapids whirlpool

Patient Zero

No one chooses to be born.

A few choose to die.

Fewer still choose to live.

Mark had come to the bridge to choose. But instead he’d ended up perching on the rail like some weary crow, a coward, waiting for the buffeting winds to make the decision for him.

“This is all there is.”

Cruel words for a mother to speak to her son, but like it or not, he had heard them. And in the weeks and months that followed her death—which had been slow torture enough—the words turned in him and writhed like living things, with teeth and venom and terrible hearts. Read the rest of this entry »