Flash Fiction: Twisted Time

This piece was written for the 10 April Flash!Friday competition. The prompts were “spy” and the photo. In this one I also experimented a bit with formatting. 

The Beggar. CC2.0 photo by Foto_Michel.

Twisted Time

I don’t know where I am. The place looks familiar in a time-twisted sort of way. The shop over there should be the bakery. The sweet shop across from me. But they’re gone, suddenly, disappeared overnight. Someone came to change everything. 

“Crazy crone,” someone mutters as they walk past.

Why is the sweet shop selling gambling tickets? 

I want to play, but I feel drained. My mind feels strange. Someone changed everything. 

Something clicks. 

I wonder why I’m sitting on the cobbles. I should be at home where it’s warm. In my hand is a piece of chalk. Next to me, in a cup, more pieces. There’s a picture on the cobbles of a house with a tree and a family. It looks like it was drawn by a child, but I don’t see any children close by. 

My fingers are covered in coloured chalk dust.

What on Earth am I doing here?

I don’t know where I am. The sweet shop is gone, but I have chalk to draw with. None of the other kids want to play with me. 

A beautiful lady in a silver dress comes to sit next to me. 

Something clicks. 

“Time,” I ask. “What have you done to me?”

View image | gettyimages.com

Flash Fiction : Sand of the Gods

This flash piece was written for the 3 April Flash!Friday weekly competition. The prompts were the photo and “blunder”. 

Sand of the Gods

The gods’ mountain towered in the desert, spilling sand from its peak. In hidden furnaces the glass life-shell hourglasses of mortals were formed before being sent into the scorching sun to be filled with the falling sand. And the Fillers at the foot of the mountain became immortal as life seeped from the sand into their pores.

He poured a few grains into a tiny glass and handed it to the sightless Gatherer. He knew what such a tiny hourglass meant – mother and child would run out of time together. At his age he could no longer stop the tears. Knowing how much time a person had to live wasn’t right. Just last week they’d filled thousands of life-shells belonging to those who’d all die in the same war.

How many glasses had he filled of people who would die in their sleep?

That night he scooped sand into a bag, swung it over his shoulder, and headed out to where the Gatherers kept the hourglasses.

Rows upon rows of life-shells were hidden inside the Gatherers’ caves. He took the first hourglass and added more sand. When he came to the tenth, the hourglasses rattled, cracked and then one after the other exploded.

He dropped the sand. And ran.  

It’s April and I’m Going Camping… Sort Of

Camp Nanowrimo is here!

View image | gettyimages.com

So, while I’ll be sharing a cabin with some other fantasy writers from around the world (how cool is that, and just one reason to love the internet), I’ll still have all my amenities, Sir T walking over my keyboard to remind me to take a break, and my usual writing coffee shop close by. I wrote a large part of my thesis there as well, so the waiters are used to me spacing out after a while between piles of papers or notebooks!

I’ve set my word count at 10 000 words for April and I’m planning on doing some serious outlining with regard to the specific stories I’m planning to write. And filling in the blank name spaces with names. You can’t very well have queen *** and her brother *** who led the golden age of the kingdom of Ezankhall, now can you?

Besides the major worldbuilding overhaul, I’ve also finished a map of Airtha with which I’m happy for the most part. (I’ll post this next week.)

I won’t be spending all my time on preparing for novel(s) though, as I also have a writing competition I want to enter (and I still need to write the story) and I want to do some shorter pieces in Afrikaans as well – along with my normal article writing and day job.

So, without any further ado, I will plunge into April!

Flash Fiction: Ariadne’s Freedom

This piece was written for the Flash!Fridaycompetition of 27 March, with the photo and “Man vs. Self” as prompts. I dug into the project I’m busy with for Campnanowrimo…

Ariadne’s Freedom

“What will you create for your entrance exam?”

Ariadne flinched under the gaze of the examiners. “I will weave a seagull,” her voice trembled as she took up the threads. Outside the sea chanted.

One chance, she reminded herself. One chance to get away from here, away from the darkness. Forever.

Her hands moved swiftly as she poured into the threads not the fear or anxiety she felt, but slivers of hope for a future that seemed to glimmer just beyond reach.

She thought of the freedom of the sky and vast ocean as the wings took shape beneath her hands. Keeping every heavy thought locked inside, she pushed every ounce of lightness into the white threads. As she cut the thread, a silver sheen rippled over the seagull that was small enough to fit in her hand.

“And what does this bird mean to you?” The eldest woman asked, her face and voice impassive.

“Beauty… hope… freedom. Everything I wish for.” Ariadne threw the bird into the air, where it spread its wings and hovered as if alive. She felt her despair fade as the bird landed on her hand, returning her hope.

“You will have your freedom, Ariadne,” the examiner smiled.

First Woman Jury, Los Angeles, Nov 1911. PD photo by Library of Congress.

Flash Fiction: Blue Ribbons

This piece was written for the 6 February Flash!Friday competition. It received an honourable mention and was called "horrendously sad" by Tamara Shoemaker.
The photo and "a fleeting moment" was the prompt.

Blue Ribbons

There should have been rain. A proper Highveld storm with black clouds, thunder, and the tick-tick of hail on roofs before the ice sting your skin as it falls and bounces on the black tar. The tears of the heavens should have beaten my angry pain on houses and cars and umbrellas.

Perhaps it should have been autumn. Yellow and red leaves. The smell of fresh compost in the back garden. The rough bark of the apricot tree beneath my hands and knees as we scaled the branches.

Perhaps it should have been spring. Cicadas and bees. Flowers and the smell of cut grass. Climbing into the neighbour’s garden to pick mulberry leaves for our pet silkworms in their empty cereal boxes. Giggling as we tore leaves from the low branches. Deep purple mulberry stains on fingers, mouths, and bare feet. You always wore blue ribbons in your hair.

But there was no rain. No leaves. No cicadas.

Only burning summer sun. The undertaker’s driveway. A face at the security gate.

I handed the woman the bundle. The wrinkled, shaking hand didn’t feel like mine. A moment ago we’d been kids traipsing through gardens. Together.

“Blue ribbons,” I said. “For her hair.”

For a moment I smelled mulberries.

Rain (Liberia, Guanacaste, Costa Rica). CC2.0 photo by NannyDaddy.

Articles, Easter, and Campnanowrimo!

I’ve been taking a bit of a break during March, but I still had some articles and posts appearing (links below). I needed some time away from my normal routine and the bombardment of media you sometimes slip into.

Articles and links

I’ve had requests for some articles about Easter and the Easter holiday. In the more serious article about why Easter is celebrated, I tried to give a short and quite basic answer; as I intended it to be for readers who do not know why Easter is celebrated and just want to find out the basics. The last article is one I’ve already Tweeted about. The subject of classic literature is close to my heart, and I want to do a follow up article here on Hersenskim as well. Click on the titles to read the articles:

What is Easter and Why is it Celebrated?

Fun Things to Do This Easter Holiday

Seven Tips for Everyday Road Safety

Why Reading the Classics Shows Our Common Humanity

View image | gettyimages.com

More Writing! Campnanowrimo!

That said, there are more articles to come, as well as my post for the Writing Process Blog Tour, and I’ll be taking part in Campnanowrimo in April. While I won’t be tackling a novel in April, I will be continuing with some major worldbuilding and planning of the stories I want to write. I hope to start working on a proper draft of the first one in May and will then take part in Nanowrimo again in November (though I will have to wait and see how far I get before knowing what exactly I’ll be writing in November).

As this will be my first camp, I’m quite looking forward to it! (And I know my local coffee shop will be seeing a lot of me…)

From Pinterest