Friday, 30 July 2010
Friday Flash - Something In The Attic
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This flash has been taken down as it is out for submission - wish me luck!
Monday, 26 July 2010
Fabulous Flash Award
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Jon Strother, founding father of FridayFlash said recently:
“I have decided to start the Fabulous Flash Award to spotlight some folks I feel deserve recognition for their, well… fabulous flash fiction.”
Well I was given the award by the very lovely and super awesome Sam of Future;Nostalgic, a fellow Northerner and wonderful writer. I love reading his work, and I can't thank him enough for the recognition, but now it's my turn to hand the award on! A lot of my favourite writers have already received it, and there is so much wonderful work out there that it's difficult to choose, but I shall endeavour to do my best..
Fabulous Flash Award Rules:
- acknowledge receiving the award in a blog post
- link back to the person who awarded it
- select four other fabulous flashers to receive the award to keep spreading the joy
- write one or two short lines explaining why you’ve chosen each recipient
- optionally (I know not everyone is on Twitter) tweet, “I just gave the Fabulous Flash Award to (name). They’re worth reading.” Include a shortened URL back to your post in the tweet.
I genuinely look forward to Fridays for reading Pamila's newest piece. I love the way she paints such a vivid picture with her words, and having heard her read her work on AudioBoo, she also has the most wonderful voice for podcasting! I can't wait to get my hands on a copy of her Bella Vista Motel book.
I met Adam through Write Anything's Fiction Friday, and I love reading his work. He has such a delightful imagination, and such a wicked way with words, not to mention a nifty way with characterisation. Having gotten to know him on Twitter, he's also a genuinely lovely chap.
Few people write horror, or action, as well as Carrie. This girl is also incredibly talented at writing cars, which so many people are terrible at! Her work is both creepy and accomplished, and I'm also proud to be taking part in the Chinese Whisperings project alongside her.
Tony's work is a real treat to read, whether he's writing superheroes or sci-fi, and his work is always so intelligent and well-constructed. He's also a very nice chap, and I'm more than a little in awe of his work!
Sunday, 25 July 2010
Spoken Sunday - Dreams
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It is Saturday night in the city. It is warm, and my window is open, letting in a cool breeze. I know this is through no kindness towards me; Mother has left the window open so that I may hear the world outside. This is to punish me for my wickedness. I am unsure as to the nature of my most recent transgression but she assures me it was heinous indeed. I am to sit here and listen to the sounds of young people like myself enjoying the evening delights of the city. There is a restaurant on the other side of the plaza. I hear glasses chinking, cutlery against plates, laughter. The words are indistinct but I hear stories being told. People guffaw as their companions reach their punchlines. I fill in the blanks, and smile. These people must lead such interesting, rich lives, out there in the city. Out there...
I stand on my bed and peer through the window high in the wall. I can see little, but my imagination paints me a picture. Groups of friends will be huddled around tables, sharing stories while waiters bustle between them. They will be carrying platters of steaming food, the dishes a riot of colour and smells as people sample cuisines both exotic and local. The air will be thick with bonhomie and warmth.
I turn away from the window, back to my bare little room. Mother took my books to punish me for forgetting to say grace. She took my telescope when I forgot to bless her after she sneezed. She still allows me paper and pencils to write or draw, but she takes what I produce. She tells me my talents are not my talents, they are gifts from God, so my art must return to Him. I do not understand this, but I do not tell her so in case she takes the paper away too.
I lie down on my bed, and think about the gift I have been given by the Universe. It gave me sleep, and the chance to dream. My eyes close, and I melt into the arms of Morpheus, and he takes me to a world without prisons, where I can run free. My dreams know no punishments, or rules. God has no jurisdiction in my dreams.
It is Saturday night in the city. It is warm, and my window is open, letting in a cool breeze. I know this is through no kindness towards me; Mother has left the window open so that I may hear the world outside. This is to punish me for my wickedness. I am unsure as to the nature of my most recent transgression but she assures me it was heinous indeed. I am to sit here and listen to the sounds of young people like myself enjoying the evening delights of the city. There is a restaurant on the other side of the plaza. I hear glasses chinking, cutlery against plates, laughter. The words are indistinct but I hear stories being told. People guffaw as their companions reach their punchlines. I fill in the blanks, and smile. These people must lead such interesting, rich lives, out there in the city. Out there...
I stand on my bed and peer through the window high in the wall. I can see little, but my imagination paints me a picture. Groups of friends will be huddled around tables, sharing stories while waiters bustle between them. They will be carrying platters of steaming food, the dishes a riot of colour and smells as people sample cuisines both exotic and local. The air will be thick with bonhomie and warmth.
I turn away from the window, back to my bare little room. Mother took my books to punish me for forgetting to say grace. She took my telescope when I forgot to bless her after she sneezed. She still allows me paper and pencils to write or draw, but she takes what I produce. She tells me my talents are not my talents, they are gifts from God, so my art must return to Him. I do not understand this, but I do not tell her so in case she takes the paper away too.
I lie down on my bed, and think about the gift I have been given by the Universe. It gave me sleep, and the chance to dream. My eyes close, and I melt into the arms of Morpheus, and he takes me to a world without prisons, where I can run free. My dreams know no punishments, or rules. God has no jurisdiction in my dreams.
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