Week 46 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 @Ayve in July. I’ve taken some liberties with formatting simply because WordPress is not Twitter and to make it easier to read.
This week’s photo is of Archer dock diving. Let’s just say he took to it like a duck to water. With more belly-flopping. He certainly enjoyed himself and was getting a fair distance by the end. He’s never happier than when he’s in water. More diving lined up in August.
The news this week is a mixed bag of continuing steps to unlock the lockdown against a backdrop of the virus flaring back up. Globally the infection rates are running away – 16 million infected. In some good news, the medical fight back is showing promise both in terms of vaccine candidates (early days there) and with new treatments increasing odds of surviving. It seems we are now officially heading for a no-deal Brexit. One without any trade agreements in place with any other major trading block. We’ll see how many people find themselves unemployed come October when the furlough scheme finishes. I’m already hearing too many stories from friends being let go, across a range of jobs. On the plus side, Boris is going to announce that GP’s can prescribe bikes for obesity tomorrow. So that’s all good then. What is it about Boris and bikes?
Writing progress this week. I submitted two 500-word short stories for a time themed anthology. I caught a couple of podcasts that gave me some great ideas for solving world-building challenges in my novel. Good research for the final push in November. Other than that I spent quite a bit of time this week on the top-secret collaboration project, reading and editing. It’s coming together nicely.
Mary wasn’t sure what she’d see in the widow’s eyes, but she never expected to see #empathy. As the gavel fell and they dragged Mary from the dock, she did not regret her actions that night. Not when she saw the widow hug her children; tears tracing her scarred cheeks.
It seemed like not a week went past without another #schism within the congregation. This week’s drama – the order of cream and jam on the scones. Now, not only was the fundraising fete in doubt. There was talk of forming a new church on the other side of the village.
I had a dream once in which I wrote a #poem. The words flowed and I twisted them into perfect stanzas that formed a stunning dreamscape of emotion and imagination. It proved an impossibly fragile thing that fled my waking mind leaving only a deep melancholic longing.
Watching his grandchildren playing on their hoverboards he felt like a #dinosaur and just like those ill-fated reptiles he failed to comprehend his fate. As the errant board careered towards him, he watched his life flash before his eyes, thankful for the neural upload.
She knocked me off my feet. Never had I seen one so beguiling. In her eye, a #galaxy of eager impossibilities. None of which I liked the look of. With a squelch, I squeezed the witch’s severed eye, its juices dripping from my trembling fist. Another dark portal closed.
The odd flowers had grown overnight. Their tall fronds floating elegant pearly blossoms that transformed the yard into a sea of white. Sticky #nectar oozed from each plant; long threads that swirled in the wind. Here and there birds and bees writhed in their ghastly grip.
The priest recoiled from the growling red demon, his head spinning. He fought to catch his breath. The stubborn beast refused to go; mocked him with its silence. The old cleric pursed his lips and wiped his brow. It would take an #exorcism to get the blasted mower moving.