Week 24 participating in the very popular #vss365 challenge on Twitter. The aim, to write a daily Very Short Story in less than 280 characters, a single tweet. Yes, that’s characters! Not words.
The prompts themselves are seemingly random single words, the whim of this month’s challenge setter. This months fun is organised by @Katz. I’ve taken some liberties with formatting simply because WordPress is not Twitter and to make it easier to read.
We had joy. We had fun. We had seasons in the MUD! This week’s cover photo is of Archer’s paw after a season in the trenches. This is what 120 miles of slipping and sliding looks like. Before the winter his pads were black. As was his nose. Now everything is decidedly pink and grey. Roll on the summer.
My writing efforts this week have focussed on a single 4k horror story intended for publication. I’ve been using it as an opportunity to evaluate editing tools, specifically ProWritingAid. It is undeniably a very useful tool but I do fear I’ve become obsessed with its myriad of reports. I’ve spent days tweaking the story to score higher, fingers crossed it pays off.
It’s said that #pride comes before the fall, that the arrogant will get their just rewards. So it was for the cocky hyena strutting off with the lionesses’ kill. He didn’t get far before tripping over his prize. You could say his fall came before the pride caught him.
“That’s not a #request,” barked the drill sergeant. “Drop and gimme 5 maggots!”
With a groan, the recruits fell to the floor and wriggled.
“Hopeless, get up!”
A small hand shot up.
“Why do I have to clean up the yard, dad?” she snorted.
He’d become pragmatic in his old age The doctrine of the church would have him shun any that clung to darkness. Even those that might be an #ally. Even those few weary acolytes that like him could see beyond the ancient battle-lines and propaganda of good vs evil.
As a comedian, you need to be able to #judge your audience. Learn what works and what doesn’t. An innocuous joke one night might be taboo the next. Get it wrong and you could die on stage. As the gunshot rang out he sensed he might have missed the mark. Unlike his critic.
Every #empire must eventually fall. That is the way of things and it’s a bitter lesson, especially as they’d worked so hard all summer to corner the lemonade market. Now, as the days grew shorter and autumn arrived, the stalls lay as empty as the streets they stood on.
A shot of whiskey slid down the bar and he thirstily gulped it back. Sliding the glass back he was convinced nothing would go right today. Sure enough, the glass smashed on the floor. He shook his head.
“Hang in there, #rookie,” said the barman, sliding down another shot.
As a professional satirist, he was no stranger to #parody. It had been a trusty tool when he needed to highlight absurdity, and he’d used it to make a successful career lampooning the powerful. Nowadays, though, he struggled to surpass the daily farce of modern politics.