Tuesday, April 30, 2013

A Tear So Blue

The Tower by Rebeca Bashly - LEA

She shed a tear, a tear so blue, a sadness, a fear so true. She hummed that song ever so low.  She whispered a whisper of growing woes. The mirror is unflattering. It reflects a blue pain of strange eyes so foreign, a pearly regret or two lost on the eyelashes. Red combed hair, red lipstick, ready to go out, make-up and all. She hangs up the phone, and sheds a tear, a tear so sad, a sadness so blue.

Don’t Kill a Winning Plan!

The Dark Side by Anley Piers

This April was probably one of the toughest months in the past few years with absolutely no time or will to write. I am not much of a complainer, most certainly not in public, but I had to say this so you understand the premise of this text, not writing regularly.

Back in 2011, one of my new year’s resolutions for 2012 was to write every day. Retired from my job, I then suddenly had all the time in the world to really write! Till then, I had written random bits and pieces, whenever the so-called inspiration stung my writing nerve. It was time to exercise that writing muscle.

2012 was spent in a frantic determination to write daily and often several times a day. I decided to write short fiction, such as drabbles or micro-fiction. I also wrote poetry, or something similar! The result was quite obvious. After a few months, the time elapsed between sitting at the computer, checking the visual/word prompt and starting to write was considerably shorter.  Given any prompt, I would have three, four ideas immediately. Then, I just had to draft the text, edit, review and post. I posted at the 100 Word Stories, the Virtual Writers, the OzlandishWritings, the Flash Fiction Writers and my own blog regularly.

By the end of 2012, I felt I had achieved my goal! A new year was approaching and I needed a new goal, with the important incentive of a close friend who insisted it was time to move on from the short-fiction, and he was right. It also happened that I was challenged to write for iRez by Vaneeessa Blaylock who encouraged me to write longer stories, if I wanted. What perfect timing!

The goal for 2013 became to write a short-story monthly. And I did, January, February and March. And that’s when the problem started!

Writing a short-story, for someone new to this length of text, demands a lot of planning and drafting and exploring. Added to this, I wanted to write short-stories inspired by locations in Second Life, a virtual world, which meant finding the place first! This process was a lot of fun, I must admit, but it involved little writing. Out of the average 30 days of a month, I’d find myself writing for about a week only.

You may ask, so what? Isn’t that what happens to all writers? Research, planning, drafting, writing? Writing is only one bit of the whole. Yes, true, it is. However, the writing muscles, as we know of legs and arms muscles, for instance, need to be exercised every day! That was not happening and the writing muscles were getting slow. Writing was becoming more painful and it was definitely taking longer, with the need to a constant editing ad re-editing till the final text version.

In another life, I was a teacher. All teachers know that they cannot survive in front of a class without a plan, without goals. So, I needed to adjust my plan. For April, I’d write every day, short-fiction plus I’d work on the longer piece. And that’s when life decided I would not do that in April, but in May (hopefully, fingers crossed!).

One month writing basically only once a week for the 100 Word Stories challenge, is certainly not enough. The writing muscles are rusted, words don’t flow as easily. Now, it’s time to restart.

Moral of the story: Never change your plan radically! If it’s working, add to it! Write every day, short or long texts, just write. It doesn’t really matter what. Write!


Home of Morphe

Shadow chaser
In the dark
Collapsed archways
Quivered days.

A shudder of hope
A stillness of mind
Collapsed pathways
Elope always.

And the story flittered
Afloat, adrift
Shadow chaser at odds
A word, she obeys,
Writer's Dash

Monday, April 29, 2013



People were hungry, they were cold, they were ill. It was time. They decided to go to the city which was already bursting with people looking for shelter. The plague had driven them inside the city limits looking for safety, healing and food. They got none. After a few weeks, people started disappearing. No one could believe the rumors, but there was an awkward odor in the air, both vividly appealing and strangely repulsive. People gathered in the streets to protest, inevitably the tumult moved towards the castle. From the tower, the king couldn’t understand the reason for such an agitation. “There is food, but ungrateful as they are, it’s not the food they would like to have,” he said, chewing on a crispy finger seasoned with herbs, salt and pepper.

Saturday, April 27, 2013

Wrapped In A Magic Spell

Mare Serenitatis
Alexandra wrote her most private thoughts in her red and green leather journal. To make sure no one read it, she wrapped a magic spell around it. Most of her spells were quite benign so her roommate decided to take a peek. The next day in class, in walks a red skinned young woman with glowing green hair. Everyone laughed. Alexandra didn’t. She stood up and said “Begin”. Her roommate turned into a journal instantly, flapped her pages and clumsily flew away, only to find, down by the forest, a collection of similar journals being pecked at by ill-tempered birds.

Sunday, April 21, 2013

No Number Four


There were four seats at the table, three people sat down.
“Where’s D’Angelo?” asked boss #1.
“We can’t start without him,” added boss #2.
“I thought the meeting was to solve our problems and end this ridiculous turf war,” said boss #3.
“It’s a lack of respect to keep us bosses waiting,” they all agreed, checking for their weapons discreetly.
All of a sudden, loud sirens.
“The cops… That rat…” the three growled while they were arrested.
In the meantime, D’Angelo was enjoying the tropical sun of the Witness Protection Program. 
“I never liked being number 4,” he thought.

Tuesday, April 16, 2013


Sea Salts

“The Art of Conversation” sat on the shelf for years. When Sean grabbed it, the bookstore owner smiled.
“Are you interested in a nice conversation?”
“No, just browsing.”
“That book is fascinating,” continued the owner. “I’ll sell it to you cheap!”
“No, not interested. I prefer, say… Shakespeare.”
“But this book will teach you a lot!”
Sean laughed, handing the book back to the owner. “I don’t think so!” And he left.
The owner turned around and placed the old book right next to Shakespeare’s Complete Works, which was marked “Free, to anyone who says YES once during a conversation!” 
100 Word Stories