Week 41 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 @kara_goughnour in June. I’ve taken some liberties with formatting simply because WordPress is not Twitter and to make it easier to read.
This week’s cover photo is of Archer lazing in the shade probably chewing a stick, which is his favourite past time. I’m running out of adjectives for summarising the week. How does the old curse go? May you live in interesting times. So this weeks adjective is going to be interesting. The news this week has been dominated by BLM protests around the world which for the most part have been peaceful. Somewhere between the various statues and comedy programs being pulled down and the endless torrent of abuse on social media in every direction, there’s actually some useful dialogue going on. The latter being key to any long term change. While out running I’ve been listening to the excellent Radio4 – You’re Dead to Me podcasts. Each episode takes an irreverent look at a historical subject and features an academic specialist. Why do I mention this? Well, it turns out real history very rarely meets the popular narrative. It also turns out it isn’t some dusty book that can’t be changed. It evolves over time like everything else. To quote Mark Twain – “The very ink with which history is written is merely fluid prejudice.”
Writing this week has been a little slow. Not that I haven’t been writing. It just seems to have taken a lot of time to produce very little. I did at least finish a short story for Eerie River’s monthly writing competition. This upcoming week I have two deadlines. One for another drabble anthology and another for a sci-fi short story. I’m aiming to rework an existing story to meet the submission criteria. This is before I dive back into a collaborative sci-fi project which is shaping up nicely.
Looking at the unfolding sail, I’m reminded of those ancient mariners. What would they make of this starship with its kilometres of glowing sail sliding through familiar night skies? Would they recognise the green #aurora as St Elmo’s fire? Would it still be a good omen?
I long for just one lazy Saturday morning. Dreamy #langour wrapped in fresh sheets with the weekend to myself. Dream on! Dogs don’t do languor, nor personal space, nor one more minute. Fresh sheets gone, replaced by fresh mornings, throwing tennis balls at the rising sun.
The concoction was complete. #Effervescent bubbles foamed over the rim of the beaker. Susan slumped into the chair. Was this it, finally, the cure? With trembling hands, she held the liquid high, before gulping it down in one. With luck, her hangover was history.
It was one of those days. Everything that could go wrong had and that was before lunch. After lunch, fate doubled down, finding new ways for things to go awry. There was only one solution. Ice cream! It was no #panacea, but it would do just fine until one turned up.
To a starving man, the discovery on that barren island of a crashed aircraft was nothing short of a miracle. A bittersweet reminder of my distant home. The bags of peanuts within its hold were truly manna from heaven; their #sapid taste gave me the strength to carry on.
Life will #inure you to countless horrors. Resist! Do not allow well-trodden synapses to solidify into autobahns of presumption. Avoid the easy shortcuts that speed your thoughts to mindless expectation and acceptance. Think! Question every narrative, especially your own.
Meanwhile at the church fete:
“#Ambrosia! The actual food of the gods. Immortality in a bite. You’re telling me that’s only good enough for second place?” raged Athena.
“It was a close call,” said the judge, mouth full. “But Barbara’s cupcakes really are to die for.”