Currently on hiatus. Will resume in July, or sooner.

Current story updates:
M/W/F

Current story interludes/Side stories:
Every other Saturday

Other pieces:
Every other Saturday (Saturdays I don't run the Interludes/Side Stories)

During certain periods updates may come more often; at other times updates may come less often. This schedule is my hoped-for goal.

Sunday, 8 June 2014

Flash Fictions

Three short stories capped at word limits. We selected themes and stuff from a list, and that info is at the top of each story.

Enjoy.

Story One - 75 words

Murder Investigation
Science Fiction
Man vs. Man
Exterminator

Another day, another datalog

“What do we have here?”
“Another dead one. Same as the others. Body bloated, face scarred, thumbs missing”
“Same murder weapon?”
“Looks to be a laser pistol that killed him, and a jagged blade for the scarring and thumb removal”
“So thats a yes. Did they finally screw up?”
“Yep”
“Great. Go crack the victim’s skull open, ID our killer from the datalogs, and I’ll put this mad dog down just like all the rest”



Story Two - 150 words

Confession
Horror
Man vs. Self
Exorcist

Reflecting on the Past

“I command you, begone!” He held the symbol high “Begone demon!”
The man laughed “Attacking me won’t make the truth go away”
“I command you!”
“Do you know what you did?”
“Begone!”
“You killed her. You grabbed her throat, and you squeezed, and you squeezed-”
“I banish you!”
“-Until she stopped thrashing. You felt the life drain out of her, and then you let go. But you weren’t done yet. You breathed life back into her lungs-”
“Your words have no power over me demon!”
The man just kept talking, eyes glinting crazily.
“-And then when she woke up, you started again. Choke the life out of her, bring her back, again until her throat was just a mass of bruises and the grooves from your fingers-”
“I said begone!”
“-And then you buried her. Your own wife”
“Get away!”
Silence, broken by the exorcist’s tears and his reflection’s laughter.




Story Three - 300 words

Love Story
Fantasy
“The Power of Hope”
Sentient Appliance

Someday She’ll Love Me...

Every time she swings me, I feel so alive. When we cleave through our foes together, oh, its a heady sensation. Orcs, elves, goblins, trolls, it doesn’t matter. It makes me feel alive, more alive than any other time.
Its her touch really, her attention. The fact that she is actually, well, holding me. Because the rest of the time I wonder if she even knows that I exist. Someone challenges her, and I’m needed. I’m the first one she goes to, every time. Its because I’m always there. No questions. If she needs help, I fight.
But, then the battle will be over. There is that brief moment when she holds me close, looks me over, makes sure that I haven’t been hurt, and then rubs me down until all the blood comes off. But then I’m put aside again, left to languish.
It hurts.
To be sitting on her chair, or thrown on the ground in a corner. I can see her flirting with others. I can see her put her hand on their arm, and maybe wink at them. And I know that that will never be me.
She just doesn’t see me that way.
But still I hope. I hope that someday when she grabs me and we charge into battle together, that she will look at my beautiful, perfect form, and realize that she feels something more for me. At first she’ll hesitate, but then love will win out.
But its all just idle fantasy. I know it can’t happen.

Yet when she grasps my hilt, and my blade bites into the flesh of our foes I can’t help but tingle at her touch. And just because it has never happened before does not mean that a woman can’t fall in love with her sword.

Metonymy Part 2!

The better/edited version of my metonymy story, now with title!


What the Rug Does
Kees Schuller


She had stood by the door and watched him leave. He had smiled that sarcastic sneer of his as he left.
“I’ll be back for my stuff.”
She had decided not to give him the pleasure. She was going to do something to it.
So when he came back the next day, most of his stuff was sitting on the front. Except his favourite shirts. She’d learnt that those concerts she never went to, he had gone to with…
With that woman.
So she’d decided to make those into a rug. He wouldn’t be getting those back.


She sat at the computer table and spun her chair. Yes, she should be doing something productive, but she just didn’t… didn’t feel like it.
Ever since he had left she didn’t much feel like doing anything.
She turned to look at the rug sitting across the room. It stared back at her, the faces, the shapes that had until recently graced his chest before she’d stitched them into a rug. Not much of a revenge, but…
She shook her head, and turned back to face the computer. She was done with him, and done with the rug.
1 offer
She pounced, clicking the button. $40, and a promise to abuse the rug. Good enough. Accepting it, she looked at that rug again. And cursed him silently.


The man put the rug into the back of his car and smiled at the woman. She took his money, and walked back into the house without a second glance.
He’d hoped to talk to her, ask her why her fiance had dumped her, maybe get to know her. Guess not.
Oh well. Time to take the rug and use it as requested. He was always game to help someone get back at their ex. Ever since that day three years ago…
Nah, not important. Not an important thought, so he stopped it.
The car clicked as it accelerated, and he drove home.


She sat there and spun her chair again.
Even though she’d sold that rug…
He was still there. She could almost feel his presence. And she kinda wanted him back.
And she wanted that rug back as well. Because maybe it had been a mistake to sell it. Because if she still had it, then he’d come back, at least once more.
No. That was not a thought that made any sense.


Zeke turned the car into his driveway. He sat there for another minute, reluctant.
But he still found himself getting out of the car and tucking the rug under his arm. His keys spun around his finger as he stepped to the door. With the click-clack of the tumblers turning he plastered a smile on his face.
“I’m back.”
He locked the door behind him and dropped the rug in one corner.
“Did you buy that rug you wanted?”
“I did. Worth the drive.”
His girlfriend leaned into the hallway.
“...What is that thing?”
“Its made out of old concert shirts. You know, Bieber, One Direction, The Jonas Brothers, that kind of thing. See, you can still see some of the names.”
“Why all the lame groups?”
“That was what the person was into.”
“If you say so. Now, I’ve been busy all day. I could have used your help before, and I can certainly use it now. Don’t just stand there, there’s a list of stuff to be done.”
Zeke unrolled the rug before hanging up his coat.


Leslie sat at her desk, and typed out another few lines of her book. She didn’t like it, but her editor said that it was just what they needed.
So she was content to churn out another steamy romance, even though she herself no longer had any reason to want one, no fuel, nothing to inspire her.
But she could tell that her writing was suffering. She needed a boyfriend for it.
She pushed herself away from the desk and let the momentum carry her chair into the center of the room. She began to spin again, twirling around and around as she let her mind wander.
That guy who had picked up the rug had been pretty nice looking…
But she cut the thought off before it could go anywhere. She didn’t need someone else who was going through an ugly break-up.


Zeke finished caulking the bathroom sink. He was so done here.
Because, honestly, Delilah wasn’t doing it for him anymore. There was no spark, nothing left to their romance. But he couldn’t just leave.
He placed the caulking gun down, then walked out.
A breath of fresh air would do him good.


Leslie stood up. She was done here. She wasn’t getting anything done, needed fresh air.
She shrugged on a jacket, walked outside.


Zeke was walking along, hands in his pockets when he bumped into her.
“Oh, sorry-”
“My fault, don’t worry about it-”
They both looked up and took a small step back in surprise. Leslie spoke first.
“Its you.”
“Yah.”
“How are you liking the rug?”
“I’ve had it for about two hours.”
“Right.”
There was an awkward pause before Zeke moved to walk by.
“Wait! Uhh.” Leslie stood for a second, trying to figure out just what to do “Do you want to go out for coffee?”
“Now?”
“Yes.”
Zeke looked at her, at his watch, then back.
“Sure.”


Zeke unlocked the door, whistling. He had been seeing Leslie for about two weeks now, and life was not as much of a burden.
Wiping his feet on the rug, he smiled as he hung his coat on the hook.
“Zeke!”
His smile died at Delilah’s shout. This part of his life was still not all that great.
“Zeke!” She came around the corner and frowned at him “We’re living together, and that means we do equal shares.”
Zeke looked at Delilah and made a decision.
“Actually, I think that we need to talk.”


Leslie sat there at the coffee shop. Zeke had left a few minutes ago, but she was still sitting there, thinking. She had invited him over a few times, but she had never seen his place.
She was going to go put her fears to rest. She paid for her extra coffee and left.


“You’ve been seeing someone else?” Delilah’s voice was half shriek “That’s how you’re going to tell me you’ve been cheating on me? In that stupid calm tone, that stupid infuriating look?”
“...Yah.”
“Then get out! You seem to hate it here so much that you can get out while I figure out what to do!”
A knock on the door interrupted the shouting.
Delilah looked at Zeke angrily “Is that her now?”
She ran to the door, and pulled it open.


Leslie saw an angry woman standing on the rug that Zeke had bought.
“Is Zeke here?”
It was, apparently, the wrong question.


Zeke could hear the shouts getting louder and louder. He risked a look around the corner to see his two girlfriends standing on the rug, alternating between yelling abuse at each other and at abuse about him.
“It all started when he got this damn rug!”
“Well, when I sold it to him I didn’t know it was going to be a problem!”
“You sold him the rug? Then its even more your fault!”
“He was the one who bought it from me, he was the one who wanted to cheat, so its his fault!”
Zeke shook his head and began to pack his bags. He had a feeling that he would not be welcome with either of them from now on.

Metonymy story

So, back again. I'm hoping people will read this, so going to update with some newer stuff.
This is a story from Writer's Craft. We had to make an item an extended metaphor.
I also re-edited this for my culminating activity. I'll be posting that next.


She sat at the computer table and spun her chair. Yes, she should be doing something productive, but she just didn’t…just didn’t feel like it.
After he had left, ever since he had left she didn’t much feel like doing anything.
She turned to look at the rug sitting across the room. It stared back at her, the faces, the shapes that had until recently graced his chest.
She shook her head, and spun back to face the computer.
She was done with him, and done with the rug. They both had to go.
“1 offer”
She pounced, clicking the button. $40, and a promise to abuse the rug. Good enough.
She accepted it, and spun around to look at that rug again. As a tear rolled down her cheek she cursed him silently.

The man put the rug into the back of his car and smiled at the woman. She took his money, and walked back into the house without a second glance.
That made him sad. She had been so beautiful. He could not tell why her fiance had dumped her, but he had hoped to at least talk to her.
He sighed and shook his head.
Oh well. Time to take the rug and use it as requested. He was always game to help someone get back at their ex. Ever since that day at the coffeeshop…
Nah, not important. Not an important thought, so he shut it up, and ignored it.
The car clicked as it accelerated, and he drove home.

She sat there and spun her chair again.
Even though she’d sold that rug…
He was still there. And she kinda wanted him back.
And she wanted that rug back as well. Maybe it had been a mistake to sell it. Because if she still had it, then he’d come back, at least once more.
But no. That was not a thought that made any sense. She didn’t want him.

Zeke turned the car into his driveway and put it into park.
He sat there for another minute, and then his head slowly sunk into his hand.
He didn’t want to go back in there. He really didn’t. Not today.
Still he found himself opening the door, getting out of the car and tucking the rug under his arm. His keys spun around his finger as he stepped to the door.
The click-clack of the tumblers turning, of him once more locking himself into the tiny prison of his life, shocked a fake smile onto his face.
“I’m back!”
He locked the door behind him and dropped the rug in one corner.
“Did you buy that rug you wanted?”
“I did. Well worth the drive”
His girlfriend leaned out of the door into the kitchen and frowned at him.
“Well, thats good, but I’ve been busy all day. I could have used your help before, and I can certainly use it now. Don’t just stand there, there’s a list of stuff to be done”
Zeke sighed and hung his coat on a hook.

Leslie sat at her desk, and typed out another few lines of her book. It was coming along ok at least. She didn’t like it, but her editor said that it was just what they needed.
So she was content to churn out another steamy romance, even though she herself no longer had any reason to want one, no fuel, nothing to inspire her.
And she could tell that her writing was suffering.
She needed a boyfriend for this to work.
She pushed herself away from the desk and let the momentum carry her chair into the center of the room. She began to spin again, twirling around and around as she thought.
That guy who had picked up the rug had been pretty nice looking…
But she cut the thought off before it could go anywhere. She didn’t need someone else who was going through an ugly and angry break-up.

Zeke sighed as he finished caulking the bathroom sink. He was so done here.
Because, honestly, Delilah wasn’t doing it for him anymore. There was no spark, nothing left to their romance.
He had to get out.
He placed the caulking gun down gently, then stood and walked out.
A breath of fresh air would do him good.

Leslie stood up. She was done here. She wasn’t getting anything done.
She needed fresh air.
She shrugged on a jacket, and walked outside.

Zeke was walking along, hands in his pockets when he bumped into her.
“Oh, sorry-”
“My fault, don’t worry about it-”
They both looked up and took a small step back in surprise.
Leslie spoke first.
“Its you”
“Yah”
“How are you liking the rug?”
“I’ve had it for about two hours”
“Right”
There was an awkward pause and then Zeke moved to walk by.
“Wait! Uhh” Leslie stood for a second, trying to figure out just what to do “Do you want to go out for coffee instead?”
Zeke looked at her, at his watch, then back at her.
“Sure”

Zeke unlocked the door, whistling. He had been seeing Leslie for about two weeks now, and life was not feeling as bad, not as much of a burden.
Wiping his feet on the rug, he smiled as he flipped his keys around, and hung his coat on the hook.
“Zeke!”
His smile died and his keys fell limp at Delilah’s cry.
This part of his life was still not all that good.
“Zeke!” She came around the corner and frowned at
him “We’re living together, and that means we do equal shares, yah?”
Zeke looked at Delilah and made a decision.
“Actually, I think that we need to talk”

Leslie sat there at the coffee shop. Zeke had left a few minutes ago, but she was still sitting there. She had invited him over a few times, but she had never seen his place.
She was going to go surprise him, and put her fears to rest.
She got up, paid the bill for her extra coffee, and walked out.

“You’ve been seeing someone else?” Delilah’s voice was half shriek “That’s how you’re going to tell me you’ve been cheating on me? In that stupid calm tone, that stupid infuriating look?”
“...Yah”
“Then get out! You seem to hate it here so much that you can get out for an hour or so! While I figure out what to do, get out!”
A knock on the door interrupted the shouting.
Delilah looked at Zeke angrily “Is that her now?”
She ran to the door, and pulled it open.

Leslie saw an angry woman standing on the rug that Zeke had bought.
“Hi, does Zeke live here?”
“Oh, are you his whore then?”
What?
“Oh, don’t play innocent, you slut. You’ve been sleeping with my boyfriend for how long now, and you’re going to say that you didn’t know he was cheating on me?”
“Yah, I am! He never told me!”

Zeke could hear the shouts getting louder and louder. He risked a look around the corner to see his two girlfriends standing on the rug, alternating between yelling abuse at each other and at abuse about him.
“It all started when he got this damn rug!”
“Thats the rug he bought from me!”
“Well, it ruined us! Its all your fault!”
Zeke shook his head and began to pack his bags. He had a feeling that he would not be welcome with either of them from now on.