Posted for Five Sentence Fiction—where this week’s one-word prompt is “Pirates.”
Photo Credit: Google Free Images
The storms outside have rendered my fragile craft impotent—but those within are worse. Everything seems so dark, foreboding. Roiling waves toss me about, confuse me. Who is that on the horizon—a rescuer perhaps? But no, he travels on by—oblivious to my desperation—leaving me at the mercy of the pirates of my mind.
This week’s prompt for Five Sentence Fiction is to write a pithy story inspired by the word “Faerie.” This wasn’t easy for me–not that I’m a skeptic–but I’m not a reader of fantasy.
If you’ve never visited FSF, come on, join the fun and add some flash fiction of your own.
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Faerie Land
The tension in Carl’s voice was like a violin wound too tight when he asked his wife’s best friend, Alicia, if she had seen or spoken to Naomi.
Not since Tuesday, was the response; she was blathering on that there’s more to this world than we can see. She cut the call short, said she had to get back out into the garden where someone was waiting for her beneath the irises. She couldn’t stop sneezing–told me it was faerie dust.
I haven’t seen her since Tuesday morning, Carl replied.
Medicine
Nursing Home (Photo credit: LOLren)
The same question that had hounded her for years continued to pummel Irene: At the end of my life, what will I have to show for it?
The answer, she decided, wasn’t in this place—a box-like room full of white sheets, a white blanket, a white commode and the sickly smell of urine, feces and vomit.
She dragged her legs to the edge of the bed, grabbed the rubber handles of her walker, encrusted with the grime of three weeks in the nursing home, and made her way to the apple red crash cart parked down the hall where she copped a vial of potassium chloride, a 22-gauge needle, a syringe and tourniquet from the drawer that should have been locked.
After signing herself out against medical advice, she took a taxi home—her happy yellow house with the flower boxes on the window sill that had just come into bloom—the place where she had chosen to die.
Purty, her calico cat greeted her at the door, purring and winding herself about the ankles of the old nurse, who suddenly realized that the medicine stashed inside her purse wasn’t what she really wanted, not as long as Purty needed her.
Shared with Five Sentence Fiction over at Lillie McFerrin’s blog, where this week’s prompt is Medicine. Perhaps you’d like to join us with a Flash Fiction of your own!
Photo Credit: Unknown Source
They talk about me like I’m not here just because the words inside my brain have lost their way to my lips. Don’t they know I feel the softness of her cheek against mine and smell the scent of peaches in her hair, reminding me of the taste of summer?
She doesn’t shun me, doesn’t recoil from the pungent smell of aging or the roughness of my wrinkled cheeks and beard. I know she knows I hear the words she whispers: I love you, Grandpa.
When I reach for her they grab her by the hand and jerk the child away, leaving me, once again, alone—a prisoner in this body.
Posted in response to the prompt: “Lost” hosted by Lillie McFerrin at Five Sentence Flash Fiction. Stop on by with a story of your own, but hurry up because I’m joining late to the party, as usual.
List of titles of works based on Shakespearean phrases (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
I’ve been hanging with Will Shakespeare the last couple of days. No. It’s true–I have. I’m listening to a University course on CD taught by Professor Grant Voth from Monterey Peninsula College titled “The History of World Literature,” and it’s Shakespeare we’ve been visiting.
When I was in High School, we weren’t really taught Shakespeare; at least that’s how I remember it. It was more like having Macbeth and the Merchant of Venice and I don’t remember who else shoved down our throats. I can’t say that anything of this brilliant writer struck me as something I would want to carry with me into adult life. If he made his way into college or graduate level studies, I must have tuned out, but I rather suspect he was not deemed critical for the practice of nursing or health care administration. So now I’m catching up and falling in love with his work for the first time.
Professor Voth admitted that it would be hard to give much due to the man in a half hour lecture (the series is a total of 48 sessions) so he chose to home in on a specific aspect of Shakespeare’s use of language. I’d like to share one little tidbit that struck me: negative capability. The poet Keats, known to most of us who crawl around in our poetry communities, offered the term to describe Shakespeare’s ability to empty himself of his ego in order to identify totally with the over 1000 characters he developed. Voth asserts that if you were to receive a quantity of character monologues without knowing the plays, you would be able to sort them by character. They are that distinctive. People of multiple professions will swear that Shakespeare was one of them: lawyer, sailor…you get the idea.
For today’s prompt, I suggest this: Make an effort to so completely enter the persona of a character you create, whether in prose or poetry. Try to make it so real that your readers will believe that it’s really a part of your experience.
I will link a Sestina I previously posted titled “Addiction.” Throughout my life I’ve had contact with people who are addicted to substance or process: loved ones, patients and colleagues. I myself have not had to go through the depth of pain I describe in the poem. Both of my novels also have alcoholics in them and, for whatever reason, they have been among the characters I most enjoyed developing.
I hope some of you will take up this challenge. If not, perhaps this short article will encourage you to play with negative capability in your own writing. If you would like to participate, here’s how:
Image: Public Domain
Image via Wikipedia
One of the things I enjoy most about my Kindle is the dictionary feature. If your bring the cursor to a word in the text, the definition pops up at the bottom of the screen. Hit “return” and it takes you to an expanded expose of the various meaning of the word. .. wonderful feature for word-addicts like those of us who write.
This morning as I was reading a bit of the Bible, there was a footnote on the word SPIRIT. Because I’m interested in biblical exegesis and the Hebrew root of things, I went to the footnote to see which Hebrew word for soul (there are five, if I remember correctly) John (or whoever wrote that gospel) used. When the cursor landed on “SPIRIT” and the definition appeared, it drew me in, so I had to explore. I knew there would be a number of definitions and I was right. Here are just a few of them:
Wow; all of that in one word!
For today’s prompt, let’s write a poem, essay or short fiction that revolves around the word SPIRIT. Take it wherever you like. If you choose to participate:
I’m still having some challenges with my back, but we’re working on that, so excuse me for not being too “present” in the world of blogging these days. I will be posting at dVersePoets’ Meeting the Bar tomorrow and hope to see you there. It is a great place to share poetry and friendship. I may need to vary the days that I do my weekly “Write2Day” entry so expect a bit of the unexpected. Thanks for being a part of the creative SPIRIT that happens here in the world of blogs.
Copyright 2012 Victoria Ceretto Slotto. All rights reserved.
Image: GNU Free Documentation License
As many of you know, just before Christmas, my first book was published by Lucky Bat Books. It is available through links on my website and here on my blog. There are two reasons I have not done much, if anything, to get it out there. The first was just the busy-ness of my life these past few weeks, but the second is more ingrained in my personality. I do not like to or know how to self-promote. Many of you know that I was a nun for many years and self-effacement was (supposed to be) the name of the game.
And so I’m turning to you for help.
Winter is Past is the story of a woman who has dealt with a subtle fear throughout her life. She’s unaware of the reason behind her anxiety but when she’s faced with her best friend and kidney donor’s health crisis–cancer in her remaining kidney–she must uncover and deal with her fear of loss.
The book will appeal, for the most part, to women and to those who read authors such as Jodi Picoult or Nicolas Sparks, to health care providers and those dealing with issues related to organ transplantation. It is written with an eye to stimulating discussion in book clubs and similar formats (there are questions for that purpose at the end of the narrative). While it is not Christian fiction, it will speak to those who read that genre (my first agent wanted to market it as such). It has a message of hope and survival. Perhaps, even if this is not the type of work you would enjoy, you know someone (wife, girlfriend?) who might like to read it.
Here is a heart-warming comment from a friend who began reading it yesterday:
Last evening I began your novel, at chapter 12 I made myself stop reading. I wanted to save what was coming next, like you put away a last piece of chocolate to savor later on…
You have a WONDERFUL way with words my friend. Having visited Reno many times to see John’s parents I could visualize the Truckee rushing its banks, and see the pictures you pointed so clearly with your dialogue. I LOVE your book!!!. Your characters are real and believable, I already have a dislike of Lauren!! And Helene needs to stop being so cranky!!
Yesterday… we went full tilt for the whole day!! Settling down with your book was my reward. I’m looking forward to what will come next.
Joan
If you do buy it and can write a review on Amazon.com or on Kindle, I’d be most grateful. And I hope it will be a satisfying read for you. Thank you so much.
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As writers of fiction and poetry, I believe part of our responsibility to readers is to allow them to travel places they have never been or to revisit places that are familiar, thus evoking memories or heightening awareness.
Long descriptive paragraphs of setting often disenchant today’s readers who are used to momentary flashes of multiple images across a screen within a few seconds (Does this relate to the high incidence of attention deficit disorder in our culture?) but the fact remains that setting and the use of sensory description enriches the reader’s experience. One way to use this technique without losing our audience is employ it as a device to break up dialogue. Here’s a very brief example from my recently-published novel, “Winter is Past”
“I wonder how Michael’s handling it. Do you think I should I call him?” Josh asked me.
“Will it help?” Based on Kathryn’s assessment, I had my doubts.
Josh shook his head and fixed his eyes on a quail eating seeds he’d planted in the flower garden. “Maybe not, but I can try; I’ll call after we eat…”
Even more valuable, in my opinion, is the writer’s ability to convey emotion through setting. Consider this brief passage from the same novel as a means of eliciting fear, sadness and powerlessness:
I trotted after Kathryn who jogged along the brick path beside our house. My eye caught sight of a tiny wren, cowering in the dense foliage of a rambling juniper shrub. Overhead, a majestic red-tailed hawk circled, squawking a message of certain doom at the tiny bird. I felt tears well up in my eyes then turned my attention back to Kathryn who now disappeared through the redwood gate.
In previous posts, I’ve described a practice I use off and on. In your writing journal, at the end of each day, describe 5-10 things you have noticed throughout the day. Return to these lists for ideas to supplement your own writing then return to a scene you have written in which you have “told” rather than “shown” an emotion. Try rewriting it using a bit of scenery or a background activity to elicit that same feeling. This is helpful to keep in mind when you are rewriting/revising your work as well.
So, for today’s prompt, write a poem or a piece of short fiction that features setting and/or description. You may want to post a bit of dialogue that you’ve broken up using the above-mentioned technique.
How to participate? Simply post your submission on your blog, then access Mr. Linky at the bottom of this page. Add your name and the direct URL of your post, and voila–you’re in. Kindly take the time to visit and comment on other participants.
I will be on the road for a couple of days, so I may not be able to visit your posts right away. Thank you for participating and have fun writing.
Image by junibears via Flickr
From the earliest times and across cultures we had storytellers…often held in high esteem. Spoken at first, then etched in caves and finally put into written text, our stories or myths have sought to delve into the deepest mysteries: How did we get here? Who made us? Why are we here? What is the purpose of our existence?
Over the ages, our myths gave form to cultural beliefs and sometimes evolved into religions. What is sacred truth to me may be myth to you, and vice versa yet somehow we are alike in our quest for the absolute.
Comparisons of our stories show amazing similarities across cultures. Parallels in creation stories, flood myths and many others seem to live in our DNA, or, as Jung would say, in the Collective Unconscious.
For today’s prompt, let’s write–in poetry or prose–about a myth that resonates for you. You may want to include a brief process note, to share the bare bones of the story you are re-telling.
When you have posted your work, copy and paste the link to your site in Mr. Linky, then spend a few moments reading others’ works. And let’s not forget to honor and enjoy one another’s Sacred Point of View. I hope you enjoy this prompt and perhaps learn more about our stories.
Image via Wikipedia
Something about autumn invites us to think of death, loss and change. Right now, here in Reno, the sun is shining, the weather is nice, but the wind is trying its darndest to blow the first leaves off the trees. Beautiful cumulus clouds are bouncing around in a blue sky. In a word, there is a battle going on between the fair and the foul.
Let’s take a break this week from the sense of impending doom and have some fun. I invite you to write and submit a short story, essay or poem that touches on humor. Let’s work hard to make each other smile or laugh. For my part, I’m going with a short story I wrote a while back. It was published in a small literary journal and it has an element of memoir (just a touch) in it.
So let’s have some fun:
