Fiction Friday - 29 February 2008

Tags: fiction Fiction Friday

This Week's Theme: Tell a story that unfolds through text messages. You can change text messages to any form of message that is short and often cryptic.

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A very special Fiction Friday today - not the story, but the fact that it is the 29th of February! This is not the story I wanted to do today, this is one I tried last night. I'm not overly happy with it, but the other idea I've had is more complex, and I don't have the time to do it in time for the deadline today! As the prompt allows, I've changed the text messages to another form of message that is short and/or cryptic - comments on an internet site. Hope you like.

THE CONFESSIONAL
I don't know why I'm writing here, I guess I need the chance to say the things I never could. I wasn't strong enough. I couldn't be what you needed me to be, or what I wanted to be for you. It's my fault things didn't work out, I just never had the chance to tell you.

I'm sorry, and for what it's worth, I still love you.

runningscared

29 RESPONSES TO POST

1. red said... 19:44
   Why can't you tell her RS? You never know...?
   
2. anonymous123 said... 19:45
   FFS loozer. U suck!
   
3. P!LL5 said... 19:45
   G00d evening Fr!end. H3rb4l p!lls 4 U [link removed by moderator]
   
4. sadgirl said... 19:46
   aaaaw! sometimes things work out for the best. good luck!
   
5. anon4life said... 19:47
   i agree wiht red. Go tell her dude. we only pass this ay once. Tell her howu feel
   
6. runningscared said... 19:51
   We've lost touch now. But thanks guys. If I could, I would.
   
7. we_used_to_sing said... 19:52
   You sound a lot like me. I wish I could find my guy again, but like you say, too late huh? Good luck runningscared. Don't be scared. Hope you find her.
   
8. runningscared said... 19:59
   Thanks WUTS. Sucks, doesn't it? It's not knowing that gets me. Wondering if you ever cross their mind.
   
9. we_used_to_sing said... 20:11
   Absolutely! I try to keep busy, but I catch myself thinking sometimes... it would never have worked. How long has it been, if you don't mind me asking?
   
10. urban_strife said... 20:13
    Just let go. It ended, get past it. Get drunk, have a fight and MOVE ON!
    
11. red said... 20:13
    o rite, sorry. hope u feel better soon. stay strong.
    
12. runningscared said... 20:15
    I'm trying strife! WUTS, been about 6 months now.
    
13. anon4life said... 20:18
    Wots her name? Google her, bug her friends, u can find neone these days...
    
14. we_used_to_sing said... 20:18
    Been about that long for me too. Wouldn't it be crazy if you were him and I was her lol
    
15. runningscared said... 20:21
    Crazy and v. scary! There is no fate except the one we make for ourselves. I don't believe in that kind of coincidence. Would like to, but don't.
    
16. runningscared said... 20:22
    anon, I'm NOT going to put it up here man *rolls eyes*
    
17. we_used_to_sing said... 20:24
    He never believed in fate either...
    
18. anon4life said... 20:26
    spooky!
    
19. runningscared said... 20:29
    ROFL! You're OK WUTS, it isn't me. Whoever "me" is!
    
20. we_used_to_sing said... 20:37
    Sorry, wishful thinking and paranoia, ha! Unless of course you have a scar on your... hee hee!
    
21. anon4life said... 20:38
    on his where????
    
22. runningscared said... 20:39
    I have a scar. It's on my left calf, just below the knee.
    
23. we_used_to_sing said... 20:42
    Oh my god.
    
24. runningscared said... 20:45
    Annie?
    
25. red said... 20:45
    OMG!!1
    
26. runningscared said... 20:47
    we_used_to_sing, please. Is it you? I need to know.
    
27. anon4life said... 20:59
    WELL?????
    
28. runningscared said... 21:03
    Please? If it is you, tell me.
    
29. runningscared said... 21:19
    I'm so sorry...

Tube nightmare

Tags: fiction fragment tube nightmare

Sometimes you just get an image of something, just one little scene, a moment in time, and you can't shift the image. Whilst stuck between Hyde Park Corner and Green Park, I was struck by the image that this fragment ends with.

"When will this bloody train get moving?"

Lisa sighed. Always the pinstripes. They're always the first to complain. Arrogant cocks...

The man in the pinstripe suit pulled out his Blackberry and flicked through his messages. He began to wave it about, as if somehow that would magically re-establish the connection to the network this far below ground. Eventually he conceded defeat to the concrete and earth above them, and returned the device to his pocket. He folded his arms and sank back against the glass partition by the doors of the carriage.

"Great, fucking great. Late for the bloody meeting now."

Lisa rolled her eyes. She wanted to scream 'Oh my god, get a life you twat! If you were really as important as you think you are, you wouldn't be taking the Tube to work! But she didn't. She bit her tongue, just like she did every day.

It had only been five minutes. And it wasn't as if the train was packed, for a change. She knew she didn't have the most important job in the world (no Blackberry, no pinstripe suit - she might as well be invisible...) but did she have the only job in the whole of London where the world wouldn't end if she was five minutes late?

"Excuse me." She looked across at the old man sat at the end of the row of seats, just behind the pinstripe twat. He was dressed in a navy blazer with brown cord trousers and a crisp white shirt, high on the starch content. "Would you happen to know the time?"

"It's just after nine" Lisa said as she glanced at her watch.

"Oh thank you." The old man began to pat at his pockets, searching for something. As he patted the breast pocket there was a muffled rattle. He reached in to the blazer pocket and pulled out a small, brown, plastic bottle with a white cap. The pills inside rattled as he struggled to open the lid. "Oh my. I always have problems with these." His gnarled fingers wrapped around the lid, fumbling to open the safety cap. Lisa reached out and held his hands in hers. "Allow me?" He let the bottle go, and with a gentle twist Lisa opened the bottle.

"Thank you my dear, very kind." He shook the bottle and allowed two yellow capsules to fall into the palm of his hand. He grasped one between his fingers and brought it to his mouth, his hand trembling slightly. "Would you like some water?" Lisa reached into her shoulder bag and pulled out a the bottle she always carried with her, just in case. It was gratefully received, and the elderly gentleman swallowed the pills quickly.

The tube train lurched forward suddenly, almost throwing Lisa off her feet. "Finally!" exclaimed the man in pinstripes.

The rattling carriages gained speed, as the train hurtled towards the next station. The lights flickered slightly, and the train began to slow again in the tunnel. "Oh come on..."

The complaint from the businessman was drowned out by the crackling of the on-board announcement. The driver began to speak, but in faltering words. "Ummm, ladies and... ladies and gentlemen I've just heard from the control room and..."

A pause, and the driver continued, whispering. "Oh god... oh god..." Then louder. "This train is not stopping at the next station, I repeat we have been ordered not to stop at the next station."

Another lurch, and the train began to accelerate at full speed. Lisa noticed passengers beginning to look at each other, concern evident on their faces. She couldn't help thinking "eye contact on the Underground? It must be serious!").

It felt unnatural, to be approaching the station at speed - seasoned commuters got a sense for the subterranean world, and could tell that they simply should not be moving this fast at this point in the tunnel.

"Please, do not look out of the windows, DO NOT LOOK OUT OF THE WINDOWS!!!"

Human beings are naturally inquisitive. And such an instruction, despite the best intentions, merely caused all the passengers to look out as the carriages sped past the platform. The old man, the pinstripe twat, everyone. Lisa knew that none of them would forget what they saw, as the lights on the platform flickered on and off, before the train re-entered the tunnel and obscured their view.

Dozens of them, strewn across the platform, twisted and unnatural. Spattered with crimson. Their fellow passengers, now nothing more.

As the charnel house vanished from sight, Lisa froze as she saw a dark shape hunched over the bodies...

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Fiction Friday - 22 February 2008

Tags: fiction Fiction Friday

This Week's Theme: Insert this song lyric into your fiction: 'We're just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl, year after year.'

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This week's prompt is provided by Jodi. Go check out her blog.

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She's not going to show. Nope. She won't.

I can feel it.

I'm a fool. A goddam fool. I know it. She knows it. Maybe that's why she does it, to see how big a fool I really am?

But as soon as I got the call, I knew. I knew. She's back in town, and of course I want to see her again. No questions, no bringing up the past - and I certainly won't remember all the broken promises. And that's why I'm going to be sat here on my own, until the bar shuts down. Because she won't show. Something will come up. Like the last time.

I don't know why we even bother anymore, we seem compelled to repeat the same mistakes we always do. But we're still drawn to each other. We're just two lost souls swimming in a goldfish bowl, year after year. Coming together then drifting apart, seeking each other out, then forgetting how it ended the last time.

I'll give her until I finish this drink then I'm out of here...

Maybe one more. In case the traffic was bad or something. One more drink then I'm gone.

Fiction Friday - 15 February 2008

Tags: fiction Fiction Friday

This Week's Theme: Tell the story of a physical scar a characater has.

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Revisiting the characters of Praxus and Triphtus, last seen here. This is the story hinted at in their first appearance.

When battle ceased in forest glade
At Triphtus' feet they lay
Mylokan hordes know ye well
What was your prize
Bought dear that night
In warrior's blood
A scar, an eye, a glancing blow
Triphtus still stands!

The last strains of the song hung in the air, as the men in the hall cheered. "A glorious song Praxus! Tell us, is that how it really happened?"

Of course. It is all true. I was there. I saw it all…

...

The stag paused by the brook, stock still. The moment passed slowly, the constant gurgling of water over rocks drowning out all other sounds. The birds. The wind through the trees. My heartbeat. The stag turned slightly, exposing its breast. My hand opened, and the arrow flew forward, piercing the heart of the beast, felling it instantly.

"Good shot Praxus, good shot!" Triphtus laughed, grabbing me by the arm. "Quickly, let's make sure it isn't suffering." We broke from the cover of the trees, and ran over to the carcass, swords drawn. The shot had been good. The stag had not suffered. Triphtus pulled some twine out of a pouch on his belt, and knelt down by our prize to bind its legs. I glanced around nervously.

"Hurry up!" I hissed. Triphtus did not look up, but continued tying the legs. "I am, I am, don't worry Praxus. No one will complain."

A noise from the underbrush. It's just a rabbit, maybe the wind. I slowly pace round, making sure we aren't being watched. "Fine, just remember our deal, if anyone asks about the deer..."

"Yes, yes, I killed it, I remember." He grabbed at the legs and swung the deer over his broad shoulders. "No-one would blame you if they found out Praxus. The Council brought this upon your family, how else are you supposed to feed your mother? Charity?" He shook his head. "With only one son, what were they thinking to make you a bard?"

I smiled. Five years ago I had been the one to complain about my fate, and Triphtus had sought to reassure me. Now, I accepted what I was, and it was his turn to rail against the will of the magi. I patted the haunch of the deer. "Well, with this fine kill I need not do this again until the springtime."

"True. And a fine set of points on it. What shall you have made?"

"Mother needs new knife handles, these should do fine."

Triphtus laughed. "You spoil that woman! No doubt my own wishes she had as thoughtful a son..."

Triphtus had moved on a few more paces while talking. I remained. That noise again. Not a rabbit. Bigger. Without realising it, my hand crept to the sword by my side. In the mud of the path, I spotted a track. Not animal. I stooped to examine it, and that saved my life. The arrows whistled past me and impacted the hart on Triphtus' back. A lucky escape for us both. In one movement he dropped it, drew his sword, and moved to the ground to shelter behind it. I scrambled into the undergrowth as a second volley was directed at me.

"Praxus!" he roared, but was drowned out by a crashing sound as the undergrowth was hacked aside. Mylokans. A small raiding party of Mylokans. A dozen swords pointed at Triphtus, a dozen warriors screamed for his surrender. Triphtus raised his sword, and leapt at the horde. With a cry I drew my own sword and assaulted them from behind, surprising two of them and swiftly dispatching them to the warrior’s rest.

Triphtus held his own against the leader, but I struggled. It had been many years since I had practised with a sword, and felt myself clumsy. My surprise attack had allowed me first blood, which made the rear pack wary – this was my only advantage. With Triphtus making short work of rest, I knew I didn’t have to hold out for long. Six left. The odds in our favour.

I of course never studied the strategy of our enemies. And Triphtus was caught in the moment. Mylokans never raid without a Vorten, a mounted champion. The drum of hoofbeats was lost in the drum of our heartbeats, and it was almost too late when I saw the black mare almost atop Triphtus. "Triphtus, behind you!" I screamed. He turned, raising his sword, enough to deflect the blow intended for his heart. The blades rattled, swung wildly, and I saw the edge of the Mylokan blade strike his face, blood spraying into the air as Triphtus fell.

I don't recall much else of that day. I can see the rider dismount. I can see the Mylokans falling, one by one, falling away from me. A stranger held my sword that day, but he fought like Triphtus. Strong, fearless, cunning. Soon, only two men stood. The Vorten, and the Warrior. The air seemed to turn red from the blood of so many, but I remember this detail. Two blades plunged into the gut of the Vorten, before he fell. I did not recognise the man who held my blade, but through his eyes I looked down and saw Triphtus, a dark blood oozing from his skull, crouched on the ground, but alive. His sword lying on the ground, but I knew in my heart it was his sword and his spirit that were in me.

"Triphtus" I managed to speak at last. He smiled weakly, as he brought his hand up to his eye to staunch the flow of blood from the long gash on his face. I let go of my sword and crouched down, cradling him in my arms. "Together my friend, always together. Thank the Gods, you live."

"Together brother. Always."

...

Triphtus slowly got down from his throne, and stood by me. "Aye, Praxus was there. When we were young men." He embraced me, and for the first time since our childhood I saw a tear in his eye. "You were there. Together, brother."

"Always" said I.

Writers Strike - [THE END]

Tags: Writers Guild of America strike residuals downloads new media

After three months, and the temporary hiatus of several big name shows, the striked called by the Writers Guild of America has ended.

I do however take issue with some of the reporting of the issue. Most media outlets have said that a deal agreed between the writers and the studios has meant the writers will get "an increased share of the profits from TV shows and films offered over the internet and other new media". An increased share?

The writers were previously getting no residuals. An increased share of zero is still a zero. The writers aren't getting an increased share - that just makes them sound greedy. They are getting a share full stop. They are getting what they never got before.

About time too.

Topical...

Tags: Colony Collapse Disorder bees enviroment enviropocalypse

As the story comes back into the news...

Panic in the Beehive

...I am reminded of the story I wrote:

The Silent Hives

Enough of the shameless reposts, back to original stuff soon, promise.

Fiction Friday - 8 February 2008

Tags: fiction Fiction Friday

This Week's Theme: Flip a coin. Heads, and your characters hates Valentines Day, Tails, and they love it. Now come up with the reason your character feels the way they do.

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For J, who deals with this year in and year out...

How many cards do you get on Valentine's Day? One? Two? None?

I get about thirty. Every year. Regular as clockwork. Guaranteed. Unless someone forgets. But they almost never do.

And presents. Do you get presents? I do. Dinners out in restaurants? I used to, but now it tends to be romantic home-cooked dinners.

None of this has anything to do with Valentine's Day though. Why should it? It's just a crappy, bogus event, invented to fleece the gullible. Guess Hallmark thought February was a quiet month and needed a sales boost!

I don't get Valentine's cards, or Valentine's presents. I get the regular cards and presents. Because it's my birthday. And you know what?

I hate Valentine's Day...

It overshadows my birthday, my special day, every year. When I was a teenager, seeing all those cards hurt. Because I knew they were because I was one year older. But not one was from a secret admirer, or a special someone. No flowers from someone who thought I was lovely. Just "Happy Birthday" and "Many Happy Returns". But no "From your secret admirer..." And nobody wanted to go out to celebrate my birthday, god no. Everyone was "busy" going on dates. Have you ever tried to throw a party on Valentine's day? Most places won't let you book, because they're already booked up with couples-only tables. Special themed menus. It sucks.

Now I'm married, and it doesn't matter so much. I don't need one day a year to tell me I'm loved, and I don't need people to tell me to tell my husband that I love him! I've got that every day of the year. But sometimes, it would be nice if people could remember that some of us might be celebrating other events at the same time as the rest of the world is going goo-goo over a heart shaped teddy bear.

So you can keep your lovehearts, and cuddly toys. I'll be over there, dancing on the bar, knocking back the tequila slammers and having a party. And when you want to have some fun instead of being made to feel bad over how many cards you did or didn't get this year, come join me.