Week 36 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 @fhaedra in May. I’ve taken some liberties with formatting simply because WordPress is not Twitter and to make it easier to read.
This weeks photo is of Archer having a swim in the local estuary. It was the first time he’d been swimming for a few months so he was over the moon. This week was 75 years since VE day and a whole bunch of family birthdays. So, it’s been a busy week one or another. It’s been a challenge planning celebrations around lockdown but going online will at least make them rememberable. Not to mention the number of handcrafted gifts this year. The quantity and quality of which has impressed everyone. All this time in lockdown is not necessarily a bad thing.
Writing process this week has been slow. I’ve had a bunch more drabbles accepted for Iron Faerie Publishing’s upcoming Four Horsemen anthologies. 11 accepted so far, 4 more pending. I’ve got a few to go to get to the full 20. Also made a good start on a short story for another anthology. I’m hoping to get some real words down next week with almost all the celebrations out of the way.
They say Eskimos have fifty words for snow. I never understood why until I spent a month crossing the icecap. I could never have imagined the countless forms and variety of frozen water. One minute crunching through #Baked Alaska the next sinking into icing sugar powder.
Pathos played his guitar. An achingly beautiful melody that whisked the audience on an emotional journey from the depths of despair to the heights of ecstasy. Building to a rapturous crescendo, Pathos nodded to his brother to finish the coda.
#Bathos played his cowbell.
“Can you try that again without all the technical #argle-bargle?”
“The flux capacitor is shot. Your Mr Fusion reactor can hardly generate a gigawatt let alone 1.21,” said the mechanic.
“Will it at least get me back to last Thursday?”
“Only if you get out and push, mate!”
“Sir, I’m in love with your daughter and we’re going to elope and get married,” said the young suitor. “Wild #horses will not keep us apart.”
The old rancher grinned, looked across at his daughter and leant in close to the young stud. “What about a Winchester 1886, son?”
“I’m going to need your #shoelaces and your belt,” said the guard.
“In case you get any ideas.”
“It’s that bad?”
“You wouldn’t be the first.”
The critic handed over the items and headed into the cinema. Maybe the rumours about The Princess Bride reboot were true.
A tooth, a claw, a glimpse of a rat-like tail. The elusive #chimera circles, keeping to the shadows. A slithering, a skittering. Awful sounds the night cannot hide.
“Who’s there?” I plead, peering into the gloom.
A flapping of wings, a growling, a bark. “It’s me, Mother!”
Everyone was happy on cloud #nine. It was the law. The nearest thing to heaven, citizens were required to demonstrate joy at all times, at least in public. Behind closed doors, tired, aching smiles were hung up and tears flowed. A rainbow of sorrow visible to all below.