They’d been through a lot together, and there was still some way to go. After the GFC things became difficult, and then they became dire, but in a world that had become uncertain there was one thing the man could hold onto for hope.
Or perhaps ‘Rust’ would be more fitting. It’s the first non-work writing I’ve done in months, and it feels like it: clumsy and jagged. Apologies in advance, dear Reader.
So, I was thinking about Wuthering Heights and that led me to Kate Bush’s song, which is haunting. Cathy and Heathcliff had plenty of unresolved issues, and it got me wondering about the subtexts of relationships and reality; ‘What if?’ Here ’tis.
This is a sad one and yet too often true. It’s short at under 500 words.
So, this is a sort of prequel to the Dylan and Evelyn stories.
1. I Will Not Be That For You
2. Not What I Expected
3. Everything I’d Hoped For
4. Because I said I Would
I just can’t work up any enthusiasm for Evie so once again I’ve made her a bit player, a reference point, to tell the background story of Dylan. Hopefully, it fills in a few gaps about how Dylan came to care so ‘quickly’ for Evie. There’s also some stuff about the Presence, because that seems to capture peoples’ imaginations.
I wrote this short last night as a sort of apology to myself for skimming through the last instalment of the Dylan trilogy. I was tired, and Evie is a character I just can’t generate any enthusiasm for, but I’d put her into play so I had to do something to resolve her.
I like this one. Just when I wanted to sleep, there it was, so I went with it. I hope you enjoy it, too.
This short is the conclusion to:
Not What I Expected
and the first story I Will Not Be That For You
In the first story I only wrote it as an exercise, to see where I could take a character I’d been thinking about for a while. That received hugely positive reviews from, let’s see, 4,5, about 6 people, and a few questions came up about the future of the character, Dylan, that I was a bit curious about, too.
So, in the second story I gave him a girlfriend, because I wondered how or even if he’d handle it. I thought Evelyn was a bit two-dimensional, but I wasn’t very enthusiastic about writing her. I saw her as being a simple progression character there to extend the character of Dylan.
I see this stuff differently to you folks. To me, these are just experiments in writing but to you, you weepy, whiny fuckers 😀 these characters take on a life of their own. Thanks for that.
Having felt that I didn’t do much with Evelyn, and given that you seem to like her and care about her and Dylan, I thought I’d write a little backstory to fill in some of the gaps. This is it. I think their story isn’t over yet, and to resolve that I was going to throw in a few big dance numbers and a spectacular fireworks display at the end. However, I must be getting old and all squidgey around the edges, because I’ve decided to leave them alone and let them make their own future, instead of returning once more to the impossibility of a beautiful and lasting relationship.
So, here we are. You got your happy ending, you fuckers. 😀
This is the follow-on to:
This one is much less bleak, and focusses more on the female character that I mentioned in the first story’s comments section. I like this one.
This story isn’t a pleasant one and it doesn’t have a redeeming ending. Sometimes, when I’m working on a main character for a larger story I write shorts like this, to get more insight into how that character would react when the shit hits the fan.
I know it doesn’t seem a very nice thing to do, but writing a complex character means that I have to throw everything at him or her, to find out where the high points and the breaking points are. This, then, was an exercise in breaking the lead character and seeing if he’d recover from it, and how long it’d take him, and how he’d do it. In this story, he hasn’t recovered even though the years have passed. Life can be like that.
This short is a bit clunky. I didn’t go back to smooth it out because it served its purpose and it led to another short I’m in the process of writing but which is, I think, a pretty controversial subject. We’ll see about that one.
This story comes with multiple warnings:
:::Death::: :::Bigotry::: :::Racism::: :::Loss of a child:::
A short I had the idea for a few years ago but that didn’t really come to me until today while I was out for a walk. I think this one might surprise you. Enjoy.
The ‘better angels of my nature’ like it when I write stories like this. I generally don’t listen to them, because what the angels are implying makes me uncomfortable.
This story had its genesis in a few others, most notably in a picture and poem by Souldier Girl.
The first story is here: Unlocked. https://p33d33.wordpress.com/2015/05/05/unlocked
From that story and the comments in it, I wrote Psychosphere.
The Soul Keeper is the progression of both of them, and I suppose as far as sending a message can go on a barely-read blog, I wanted to say that not all men are evil, that not all women are innocent, and that somewhere in the Great Somewhere, there is a consciousness that wastes nothing.
Thanks for this sometimes personally painful but nevertheless worth-writing collection go to:
Souldier Girl. http://souldiergirl.com
Here’s The Soul Keeper.
This one comes with multiple warnings.
:::Distressing content. Domestic violence. Catastrophic injuries:::
I wrote ‘Unlocked’ a few days ago, having been inspired, if that’s the right word, by a poem and photo belonging to Souldier Girl. Two of the comments that story attracted came from gigoid and Addy (Adam), and both comments struck me for very different reasons. In this story, gigoid has been renamed as Bob and Addy is Doctor Adam. I hope neither of those good gentlemen mind. I think I’ve faithfully shown their perceptions of Unlocked.
I’ve written this in the ‘staccato’ style. It’s jarring, because it’s meant to be; a sort of stream of consciousness that’s intercepted by outside events. Getting this style right is difficult, because you still need to make the story comprehensible. It can’t be random junk thrown together and called ‘art-that-no-one-is-supposed-to-understand’.
I think I’m done with this topic now, although I said that last time, so obviously the topic wasn’t done with me.
She was really something special, everyone said so. It didn’t come easily for her and it wasn’t natural, either. Hours and days of dedicated practice melded into weeks and months of specialist training, and what little time she had left was spent in fending off wandering hands and deflecting crass sexual innuendo.
Tara had completed her military service honourably but with a lack of progression through the ranks; it was still a boys and their toys world. From there, she joined the force and began trying to work her way into a specialist position, which had only months ago become a reality. She was now a sharpshooter in an emergency response team.
The spotlights died and the dim illumination that replaced them signalled that a softer song was coming. It was one she’d been practicing for weeks, there in the studio after all her other songs in the set had been fine tuned.
“This song comes from a beautiful little movie called ‘Once’, Ingrid said to her audience. “It’s bittersweet and haunting, and I hope you enjoy it.” She knew her audience and she knew they’d love it. This kind of song had given her career its lift, back when getting a gig and singing to three disinterested people was obviously not getting her anywhere.
Resolution. This is the last part. Up front, I’m not sure I liked the ending but it is unexpected. No spoilers, though. Thanks to everyone who followed this. What began as a single short grew into 6. Here are the others. Perhaps in a few days I’ll tell you the backstory to this. In some ways I think it’s much more interesting than the one I wrote.
“So that’s how you trash your own life! Why don’t they teach this stuff in school?” Hayden thought. Not only was he out of a job – one he really liked and was good at – he was being bombarded by the psycho-bitch-troll-from-hell and being studiously ignored by the police. “It doesn’t get much better than this,” he thought, sourly. “Living the dream, dude. Living the dream.”
The next, and next to last part, in the UB series. Here are the other parts, in order, and thanks for reading.
She’s a corrosive, malignant bitch. Mariana is the cute-looking freckle that everyone loves and comments on; the freckle that’s hiding beneath it the tendrils of cancer that has invaded every part of its host and slowly, slowly sucks the life out of it.
Here’s my first dubious contribution to the latest Wendigism. http://terribleminds.com/ramble/2015/04/10/flash-fiction-challenge-time-again-to-write-an-opening-sentence/
The Challenge was to write a story from a first line provided by someone else. I chose Brenna Faye’s opening sentence for this story, which is long at around 3,300 words but which can be read simply as Part 1 if you prefer. Thanks to Brenna for the inspiration and Chuck for the Challenge.
“Let go of the past,” Madeline’s mother had always warned her, “for it feeds upon us all with great appetite, and wants to live again.”
Shitsuren sākuru 失恋サークル (Heartbreak Circle).
With a deep and heartfelt bow of reverence to:
- Star Trek’s ‘Kobayashi Maru’ コバヤシマル (Kobayashi’s Circle),
- John Donne (For Whom The Bell Tolls),
- William Henley (Invictus), and especially to
- Ada Ireland (Break My Heart Thoroughly), here’s a bittersweet love story.
So, here it goes.
Ever wonder how a story happens? Where the idea comes from? This story, which is part one, came to be as I happened upon a concert film of Elvis Presley shown on TCM. Since I was a headbanger (thank you cousin Brendy! If it wasn’t for you, I’d probably be listening to One Direction,Lady Ga-Ga, or even, gulp, that Beiber fuck), I wasn’t even remotely interested In Elvis, or The Beatles, Bowie,or John Denver, so I watched to see what all the fuss was about. It was when he sang Love Me Tender,and began to kiss the women that the title popped in my head A God Walked Amongst Them And There Were Consequences. I thought, hmmm, what does that mean? And while I watched, the story unfolded in my brain. Contrary to belief, I am not really a writer. Oh, I get these ideas, but, ladies and gentlemen (or, Lady, and, gentleman) I cannot translate those stories in my head into written form. Trust me when I say that they are so much better, richer, more horrifying, than what I write down.
Hopefully I didn’t put you off reading the story, however. Be warned, though, it is explicit.
Thanks to Les for inviting me to author a story on his blog. Read his stuff.
Now, on with the show
s of this blog will know that yesterday Ada Ireland posted a great little story called ‘Miss Boring Died Today’.
I f you haven’t already done so, read that first, or this story won’t make sense to you. ‘Looking For Jane’ was just a bit of fun I had while Miss Ireland was racking up 20 years of much-needed beauty sleep overnight. She likes surprises, so I very thoughtfully sent her one. This.
To be fair and honest, there are a few disclaimers.
The ‘statistical’ stuff was googled one sleepless night a year ago.
The silly names were inspired by a Rowan Atkinson skit he performed decades ago.
The Latin and translations came directly from Handy Latin Phrases.
The motivation was provided by my friend, and hopefully now yours, Ada Ireland of http://unashamedwriting.com
Please visit her and leave a comment. She lives for them. And I’m the only one who ever comments over there so, strangely, she lives for me, if you see what I mean. 🙂
My friend and colleague, Ada Ireland, posted this short story to her blog today. Seeing as my blog has so many visitors 😀 I thought I’d get the word out.
PS. Because a Post Script is also a Power Statement.