Advice for Writing, Editing, Reading, and Life.
New posts on Mondays (for non-fiction) or Fridays (for fiction)
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.
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.”
Twitter Blues
A very brief flash fiction piece written in response to a prompt by Laura Cooney (@LozzaWriting).