Susan Hated Literature

This week’s Thursday Thirteen is a little different. Instead of a list I’ve written a story. In thirteen sentences. And inspired by the fact that yesterday was the Day of the Zombie Uprising

_{image an edited version of the Italian Shaun of the Dead poster}

“They’re out there.�

She was really starting to get on my nerves. I knew they were out there. I’d seen them, I’d been chased by them, legging it down the road screaming in terror as hordes followed me. I didn’t need her to tell me they were out there.

She repeated that fact, the only three words I’d heard her say since this whole thing had started. I resisted the urge to smack her, that really wouldn’t solve any problem, well, it might make me feel slightly better, but no, it really wouldn’t help. Instead I made those funny “mmm� noises, the ones that mean anything and nothing, in the hope that it might soothe her a little.

It didn’t.

She continued to repeat those words over and over again, all the time rocking backwards and forwards, reminding me of institutionalised orphans you see on those documentaries.

Then, a sudden silence that was so much worse than the moaning. “Alice,� I began to speak, wondering if she had come to her senses. Her head turned to look at me, her eyes glittered and the numb terror I’d been feeling was replaced by an increasing sense of panic as she opened her mouth and spoke: “We’re in here.�

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Carl says “write“. Challenge issued; a story in one hundred words. But– and here’s the problem– no repetition allowed. So let us begin…

Fingers strike keys. Hesitate. Erase. Start again…

More difficult than it first sounded. Quick, fumble for that thesaurus, what’s another way of saying happy? Content? Blissful? Jovial? Exultant? Maybe “on cloud nineâ€?? Nope, not working out. Hit delete. Repeat.

My muse must be on holiday. Rather than feeling any happiness I’m plagued; inspiration simply won’t come.

Damnations, still short! Quick count. Close now, wait. Think. Ponder even.

By Jove, I think… yes, I’ve succeeded (or possibly cheated).

That wasn’t my entry, just a bit of fun, but if you want to enter the slightly clearer rules are:

*Write a 100-word short-short story. Don’t use the same word twice (OK, we make an exception for contractions if you really really really have to, so don’t is don’t and do not is do not, but don’t abuse this as a cheat too much — see if you can work around it).

*The title does not count as part of your 100 words. But just to make it interesting, make sure your title contains unique words as well.

*It has to be a story, with a tiny bit of narrative flow.

*It doesn’t have to be in the realm of the fantastic, it can be about anything.

This is a proper contest, with prizes and celebrity judges and everything. So go, give it a lash.

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More fiction, this time some scratch-fiction from Everything Comes Together at 2 am

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I’ve decided to respond to Criminalenglish’s challenge

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So, FM found a challenge, write a story in 69 words. His was great, so I decided not to try too hard with mine, and came up with this. It probably won’t make much sense to anyone who isn’t Irish, and of a certain age.

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Spotted this over at Stainless Steal Droppings.. The rules are simple, and can be found in greater detail here, but basically you gotta come up with a story in 100 words, without repeating any. So one hundred different words.

Innocent

Light streams through worn curtains, burns your eyes. Red, yellow flashes. She rolls into blackness and shadow. Doesn’t want to wake, sleep means respite from knowing. Betrayed by blinking, twitching eyelids. They reveal awareness.

A scent tickles my nose, metallic, sharp.

He steps forward, silent, yet somehow the girl’s aware of his movement.
“Stay still child, make believe this isn’t real. Persuade yourself ignorance is bliss. Pretend!�?

“Can’t hide.�? Leah whispers, answering, not looking towards him. “Impossible when Death surrounds me.�?

Silence…

I awake, horrified, dry mouth. Then phone in tonight’s vision-report. But that never helps with feeling worthless. Helpless.

Technorati Tags: Tiny stories, fiction, Innocent

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Early morning. Fog moves, rolls across the land. Hiding, then revealing the bare wooden bones of fences. But never venturing down the path, it alone is unconcealed. Revealed.

In the distance, made small by the space, stand the sentinals.

Always in twos, always silent, always there. They stand and watch and wait. Guardians. Defenders. Watchers. They protect the path, none can walk it without their knowledge. None can walk it without their assent.

Consent is never given. So nothing ever walks down the path, no one knows where it leads, or why it is guarded. No one even attempts to learn anymore. Even the animals avoid the path. Late every spring there are a certain amount of casulties, young animals, birds that have not learnt.

The occasional overly adventerous child. A lesson for all the others, but one that fades with time, until the next rebel, the next loss.

The sentinels do not care, do not offer excuses or reasons. Grief and mourning, accusations and blame. They never respond to emotions, or words, or tears. Only to tresspassers.

They stand, silent, unmoving. Great wooden sentinels. Their reason, their intent unknown, long since forgotton. Only their actions left. Sentinels: bringers of death.

Forgotten Machine posted his 15-min challenge, and I decided to give it a go. You’ll find the pic here

The rules are as follows:
1. Click here and choose any image you like.
2. Compose your piece in less than 15 mins.
3. Post it to your blog.
4. I think for this round it might be interesting to read the piece without seeing the image first, so just provide a link to the image after the piece (note that since the website uses frames, you can get the URL for particular images by hovering over the thumbnails).

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