Week 35 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 @Zevonesque in April and in May by @fhaedra. I’ve taken some liberties with formatting simply because WordPress is not Twitter and to make it easier to read.
To complement last weeks photo of bluebells this week’s photo is of a sea of buttercups. Spring is undeniably in full effect. We just passed day 40 of the lockdown and it would seem we are over the peak of this first wave. It’s a shame the death rate is not dropping off as quickly as it climbed up. It’s good to see that the great majority of people are sticking to the rules. I’ve been roped into C25K again – joining in on week five with a friend. Thankfully all the dog walking counted for some basic fitness in the first 20-minute jog.
Writing progress this week has been relatively slow. I’ve had another four drabbles accepted into Iron Faerie Publishing upcoming Four Horsemen anthologies bringing the accepted total to nine. My goal is to try and get to the maximum of twenty over the next few weeks. I’ve also started on a short story for another anthology 2k words in of what’s likely to be a 6-8k story.
Tommy ran the union. A real #heavyweight. Nothing went in or out of the city he didn’t know about. So when the Don’s son turned up missing, questions needed asking. Down on the dock, the Don didn’t like Tommy’s answers. Yea, turned out Tommy was a heavy weight all right.
Whilst everyone else saw their portfolios tank, Peter always made a #killing. It was uncanny. So much so, with suspicions raised he was called to account, compelled to explain the secret of his success. And that class is why we have time-travel clauses in contracts now.
Eva always loved her grandma’s chicken soup. If anything could make her feel better, it was the taste of the comforting warm broth. After a week of fever and a night of tossing and turning. Eva lay dead, still. Until that first spoonful and her miraculous #resurrection.
It started as a joke. Build an amp that went to 12, the band demanded. The record label indulged their folly. The first night of their sell-out world tour Mad “Strings” McGee plucked his #guitar, unleashing hell. The titanic chord tore asunder revellers and reality alike.
Keith didn’t have a problem, he just liked a drink. Usually several before lunch. After a disastrous conference call, string vest, underwear and several empty bottles on show, his boss gave Keith an ultimatum. Stop the #alcoholiday or he’d make it a permanent holiday.
Tina was a vagabond, always hungry, always dirty, she scratched out an unhappy existence as a #ragpicker. Most crossed the street if they saw her coming. For good reason. Tina wasn’t picky where she got her rags, switchblade in hand, living or dead it made no difference.
There were never enough pots and pans to catch the #rainwater. Once a month the rains would come and she’d fill every container. Each bought her another day in the desert and another day to plan her escape. One day she would save enough water to walk out of this hell.