National Flash Fiction Day - My Flash Flood Journal entry - Matilda

Today is National Flash Fiction Day and there have been many preparations leading up to it. I did submit to the Eating My Word: 2014 National Flash Fiction Day Anthology but unfortunately my piece didn't make it in.

And if I had more time on my hands today I would also be writing for The Write In - a mass flash fiction writing event, where you write something on the day from one of the prompts provided and it goes up on the blog the same day. 

But I did make it in to the Flash Flood Journal, an international flash-fiction journal created by you and edited by a team of volunteer editors on behalf of National Flash-Fiction Day. Every 10 minutes a new piece of Flash is put on the Flash Flood Journal for the full 24 hours of Flash Fiction day.

My entry 'Matilda' went up in the early hours of the morning. I wrote this piece some time ago and am over the moon to find a place for it. It is very dark, and I think funny. You can read it here.

There are some awesome piece in a variety of genres, some worth checking out are:

Meg McNulty's - Curiosity
Susi Holliday's - Cox
Catherine Connolly's - Sampling Spirits
A.J Walker's - Race
Al Kratz -  The Great Communicator

Five Sentence Fiction - Fenced

This week's Five Sentence Fiction photo prompt couldn't be missed. Fences offer so much and this one with a hole - oh my! A story had to be written I hope you enjoy it!

He was so relieved when he found the chink in the fence; he was beginning to think he’d never find his way off this island – although he knew that was what they wanted. 

He spotted a small sail boat out in the water, the first sign of civilisation he’d seen in months, and tried to call out but his throat was too hoarse from all the screaming he’d had to do already today.

He judged how fast they were moving and whether he might be able to swim out to it, while ignoring the thoughts in the back of his mind that said he was in no physical condition to do such a thing.

But he had to get out to them, he had to, it was the only way to calm his raging mind that had not stopped since all this happened.

He had tried to calm it everyday, but without live flesh it was never going to be possible; he needed it to be pulsating to satiate him, and stop the pressure that kept building up and making him scream everyday.

Horror Bites - Dental Assistant

This weeks Horror Bites photo prompt was too good to miss and of course opened up a whole world of pain to write about, yet strangely when sitting down to write it I found it hard to get going - a little like pulling teeth (sorry couldn't help myself). But I like what finally came, and I hope you do too.

 

Jackie carefully picked up each instrument and polished it, she wanted them gleaming for tomorrow when Mr. Benson would be in. Then she laid them out on the tray just how he liked them.

She took her latex gloves off and flipped open the appointment book to review the schedule for the morning. It was going to be busy and she liked that, no time for dawdling and fussing over patients.

She closed the book and patted it. This job was exactly what she’d been looking for. She liked Mr. Benson the most out of the three dentists practising here. He had a more mature manner and didn’t pander to the patients; he got on with the job at hand and didn’t hold back.

The following morning when he came in, they sat and went through the appointments, checking the dental charts of those booked in. There was nothing special, just routine check up’s until 10 O’clock. That was the one Jackie was looking forward to the most.

On the phone the man had clearly been in pain, his muffled voice making it apparent there was significant swelling. And when they’d pulled up his dental records, there was a definite history of problems; it would probably lead to an extraction or at the least a root canal. Mr. Benson wasn’t one for waiting on antibiotics, he believed that if there was an infection or swelling from an abscess the best thing was to open it up and clean it out – another reason he was Jackie’s favourite.

By the time the patient arrived, Mr. Benson had warmed up and Jackie knew he wasn’t going to waste any time and risk falling behind. When the gentleman sat in the chair, he went straight in and had a good feel around.

When the man cried out, Jackie made soothing sounds, reassuring the man that Mr. Benson knew what he was doing and he was in safe hands. She quickly put the suction tube near the open wound that was now leaking some kind of yellow, bloody puss, and could see that they wouldn’t be able to save the tooth. She smiled behind her mask.

The man made a garbled request and Mr. Benson said that he’d administer some more aesthetic shortly, but there was a chance it might hurt for a while longer yet. The yell the man gave when Mr. Benson started pulling gave Jackie goosebumps, and she knew the best part of the job was coming up.

As the cracking squelching sound escaped the man’s mouth, so did his sensibilities; tears streamed from his eyes and a thick sob let loose from his throat. She patted his arm in a mock sincere gesture, while reveling in the knowledge that he couldn’t do anything but lie there and submit to further pain and humiliation. There was no other job where you could get ring side seats to such torture disguised as treatment.

Spooky Tales ebook Published!

Back in March, I wrote about being a runner-up in the Spooky Tales Competition run jointly by What The Dickens? Magazine and Miracle E-Zine, and that my piece would be in their ebook anthology.  Finally it has finally been published! Yay!

Unfortunately no announcement was made. I received no response to a query email at the beginning of May, and after seeing a tweet from What the Dickens? Magazine asking if anyone wanted to take it over, I queried again, and to my surprise received a response saying it had been published on the 20th of May - and the good news is that they are still planning to publish a print version!

It's so exciting to be in print!

The ebook version is available through the What the Dickens? shop on their website, and also on Amazon (click the picture for Amazon.co.uk).

55 Word Challenge - Red Phone Box

The phone box grabbed me this weeks 55 Word Challenge, and took me lots of places, but this was as succinct as I could make it.

Dora sat outside the phone box and waited. She’d told them not to go too far their first time, but they were too excited; she put it down to watching too much Dr. Who. She tried to remind them that the red box was different to the blue, but they didn’t want to hear it.

55 Words

Daily Picspiration - Interdimensioning Part 4

Due to the general consensus from the readers being that they want more, I went ahead and continued the serial I have been writing for my Daily Picspiration. The new set of photos inspired me, so I was able to try and come up with how it would continue, what a world run by trees would be like. I feel like I am diverting a bit from it though, by focusing on a new character, but having written on from this piece, I hope to explore it some more. Enjoy.

You can read 'InterDimensioning' here.

Schizophrenia - MWBB

This weeks Mid-Week Blues-Buster was a great song, and got me listening to present day Gay Numan music. When it came to writing for this song, it had a dark feel about it, but the lyrics gave me a directly. Hope you enjoy.

The prompt song this week was:

  Here in Black - by Gary Numan

 

 

Paul smashed his head against the wall and screamed as hard as he could. He felt a dribble of blood run to the tip of his nose and wiped at it absently. It hadn’t helped.

He grabbed his jacket and rushed out of the apartment, shrugging it on as he fled down the steps to the street. He couldn’t have given a toss that it was two in the morning and the city was flooded with drunks exiting nightclubs, he didn’t see them.

He didn’t want this, not tonight, not tomorrow, not any day, but he didn’t have a choice; it was his birth right.

As the urge got larger he picked up the pace and started running. There was only one place for his kind to go and he needed to get there, a place of sanctuary, a place of understanding.

But even as the building came into sight he already knew it was too late. They were in the back of mind already, pushing forward consuming every thought, every impulse, every breath.

He stumbled, trying hard focus on his intent, something they wanted to stop. He slowed, forcing each foot in front of the other, resisting what they wanted; he wasn’t going to turn round, he wasn’t going to the bridge - he WAS worth more than that.

The lights were on; the building was open twenty-four hours. There was a man on the door – he knew that, but that meant they did too. The whispering escalated to raised voice, and he was reduced to his knees, crawling on all fours, each move a personal triumph over them.

A man bleeding from his head, and crawling along a street in the early hours of the morning; Paul knew what the public saw, but it didn’t mean he should do what the voices wanted; it didn’t mean that he was worth nothing and he had no right to be here; it didn’t mean he was scum or worthless and didn’t deserve to live!

He shouted back, becoming aware that it was out-loud rather than his head, the humiliation bringing a wave of rage that pushed them out for a moment, allowing him to stand.

The white steps up to the facility were now in sight as was the security guards window. Relief flooded through Paul as he made eye contact with the man, but it dulled the rage, bringing them back full force and he was unable to climb the steps unaided.

He heard a bell ringing and several white-coated people came out to help the security guard bring him inside, their questions barely audible over the noise in his head. Once in the entrance hall he could only drop to his knees and cover his ears.

Then a pair of warm hands rested on his, and a soft voice reached him as though across a great void.

“Paul? Paul? Can you hear me, it’s Audrey. Paul, look at me, lift your head.”

He brought his head up a fraction. A light flashed in his eyes. There was rustling around him, and her voice came again.

“We’re just going to move you into the exam room Paul. Relief is coming soon, I promise.”

He felt himself being lifted, and even though he thought it impossible, the noise inside reached a whole new level. He knew Audrey wasn’t going to torture him, or probe him, or experiment on him, he knew she wouldn’t harm him. He wasn’t going to try and hurt her and run from this place, this was where he needed to be and he repeated that over and over to try and placate them.

But they didn’t stop, not until the needle went into his arm, and the drug flooded into his bloodstream, which fortunately only took a few seconds.

He slumped back, exhausted, knowing that he’d made it; the attack was over - he’d won. 

But it was just a single battle in a war that was going to rage for the rest of his life, each one was a fight to the death, and maybe next time he wouldn’t.