Light My Way – 7 Very Short Stories

Creativity is a significant part of my life, and I hope to encourage others to pursue creativity in their own way (there are lots of posts here on the site to read about the creative life). 

My creative life is focused on writing: novels, novella, short stories, bad poetry, and twitfic. Currently I have had to put my WIPs: a collaborative epistolary novel (edits almost complete) and a novella (first 4K is down), on hold due to work commitments.

But I can spare brief moments to compose short pieces of twitter fiction to keep my creative well filled and enjoy playing with language. 

These seven pieces of twit fic were inspired by a radio interview where the interviewee, an actor, talked about the presence of cameras and flashes. I wanted to explore different ways of seeing light, from the whimsical and playful to existential and reflective but based on my focus on the ennui and minutiae of life as the basis for my stories. See if you can spot the Star Wars reference (it’s pretty obvious). The last piece is a nod to my collaborative epistolary novel, Post Marked: Piper’s Reach.

There is no narrative thread here, unlike other twitfic series Polaroid Memories and A Thought’s Reliquary (I like the number 7 as  a form, like Jacques speech from “As You Like It”). They are lights strung in a sequence like lights on a Christmas tree.

I hope you enjoy it.

Light My Way

I.

“Let there be light,” he said flicking the switch.

“Daaaad,” was the groaned reply.

The Christmas tree exploded in colour, their groans silenced.

II.

As the camera flashed she closed her eyes.

“Stop ruining the photo,” yelled Mum.

She wondered how many pieces of her soul remained.

III.

The dust motes floated in the tractor-beam like shaft of light on the desk. She splayed her fingers and wished, “Teleport me off this rock.”

IV.

Beside the pillar of empty milk crates, he studied the shadow’s patterns; his own stained glass windows. He went inside the milk bar to worship.

V.

His first digital watch enthralled him but it was the ability to see the numbers in the dark kept him awake at night. It deterred the monsters.

VI.

Each boy shone his torch through the smoke of the bonfire.

“Light sabres!” one yelled.

The melee started, dying with the fading smoke.

VII.

He held the mirror fragment and reflected the beam from the lighthouse across the bay onto the notepad on his knees.

“I will light your way.”

Have You Read A Very Short Story Today? Part 4

A smorgasbord of twitfic from the past couple of days, and a bonus poem. The content ranges from absurdist romance, existential contemplation and a nod to childhood games and Indiana Jones.

On Friday I will post a bonus themed set of twitfic based on the idea of light.

Today’s Menu

I.

He pegged his clothes in semaphore, glancing over the fence to see if the neighbour responded. The following day her own code answered.

II.

He patted the black dog sprawled like a blanket over his feet making it hard to get up. “I think it’s time to go, Old Yella,” he said.

III.

The handwritten note taped to his bedroom door read, “Teh floor iz lava.” “This will make getting to bed a bit tricky,” he said.

IV.

The thin shaft of light from the curtains divided the lounge room in half. He prepared to cross, wondering if there were poison arrows.

V.

“It’s a matter of perspective. Are you coming or going?” he asked.

“From there to here or here to there?”

“Wherever your feet lead.”

VI.

Their connection sparked as they reached for toilet paper. But he knew it wouldn’t work; she reached for 2-ply while he grasped 3-ply.

VII.

Koi circled over, under; a universe expanding, contracting as their tails flowed like comets and mouths as black holes consumed food.

And today’s bonus poem.

While I sit on my bike
At the level crossing
The bells sound ding-da-ding
Red and white arms crossed
Then open and beckon
A thousand paths

Have You Read A Very Short Story Today? Part 3

Why write twitfic? I like the immediacy of the form.

Even though it lacks the depth of a short story and the carefully structured nuances of a novel, twitfic captures the essence of forward momentum in a given scene.

My preferred genre to write in is suburban realism, a term coined for me by a friend. I don’t write spec fic, sci fi, fantasy, horror, romance, historical or *insert genre here* (although I do like reading some of them).

I write about people in the current moments of their life. This for me, is the charm of story. Little moments of every day, when seen as a whole, is like a daisy chain of memory or a rosary to be recited.

These moments can be whimsical, humourous, reflective, serious, ones of regret, loss, pain, sorrow or love.

These moments are what I attempt to capture in writing twitfic.

Today’s Offerings:

I.

Every day of his 20s he wrote himself a note, sealed it and waited sixty years. Every day of his 80s a new revelation awaited.

II.

Others sat absorbed in books or papers; he with the view outside the train window. “It’s never the same story,” he once answered.

III.

Standing midst the blackened skeletons of once proud trees the ash turned her sandalled feet grey. She spotted the first green spark.

IV.

He took the new pair of underpants from the packet and put them on. In the mirror he twisted and squatted. “Ladies undies do fit nicely.”

V.

The gaping maw of the steam engine’s furnace harnessed the fury.
“Oi, son, where the hell you been?” roared his father.
He recoiled.

Have You Read A Very Short Story Today? Part 2

Whether or not you subscribe to the idea that you can write a complete story in 140 characters, there is a challenge to compose a piece of writing that can be loosely termed a “story,” something that has a beginning, a middle and an end.

I see Twitter fiction (twitfic) as capturing a moment, a breath, a held thought, but one that has movement and momentum both forward and backwards.

The power of the story relies on the choice of imagery and sentence structure by the writer to paint the broadest picture with the fewest brush strokes.

It does rely on you, the reader, to fill in the gaps and create the character, using your knowledge and understanding of story to join the dots and create your own meaning to the story.

Here is my latest collection of twitfic.

The coins gratefully absorbed the warmth of her hands. Placed on his eyelids they tried to give back warmth where there was no life.

 

I.

He stood watching the town’s first set of traffic lights order the comings and goings. After the third set of changes he went on green.

II.

He played every game show, answered every question, took home fabulous prizes but his biggest regret was losing Monopoly to his nephews.

III.

He collects the whispers like butterflies; pinned to mounting board and labelled. When he has sufficient they burn and float as ghosts.

IV.

She replaced every mirror in the house with a funhouse version to imitate the reality she saw. One day someone offered her a hammer.

V.

Fold, crease, fold again as the water lily took form in paper. She dropped it into the gutter’s surge and wished as it sailed away.

Do you have a particular favourite? Which one and why?

Life In A Sandwich – Micropoetry

A sandwich cut into triangles

Reflective symmetry of order

Yet between the layers

A disordered concoction

But it’s how he liked his life

 

Spinning Silken Answers – Micro Poetry

I have always loved the creative marvel that is a spider’s web; intricate and delicate, while strong and resilient. It is easily broken, and easily repaired, yet not without cost to the spider. It is a wonderful construction and a sign of decay and decrepitude.

These ideas sparked this poem.

Plucking at the spider’s web

Of silken strength

Elegant engineering

A sign of abandonment

And decay

She walks home with answers

Glass Jar of Tadpoles – Micropoetry

Glass jar of tadpoles
Wriggling and writhing
Curiosity’s metamorphosis
Into nomenclature and sequence
Losing the art of play

Sometimes prose is limiting, even more limited by 140 characters, but poetry can open up the ideas with fewer words and more imagery. I began this as a Very Short Story on twitter but modified it to a poem to get my idea across.

Button Up – Very Short Story

This evening a friend who is participating in National Novel Writing Month asked for some prompts to help them along while writing today.

Someone wrote this: “Mismatched buttons sliding around the bottom of the underwear drawer.”

My mother used to have a plastic ice cream container of buttons. I have no idea where they all came from; I assume years of extraneous buttons collected from clothes or the bottom of the washing machine.

It sparked this piece of twitter fiction:

He scooped a handful of mismatched buttons & let them scatter on the table into a random alphabet of hand-me-downs, wishing for his own.

Have You Read A Very Short Story Today?

Today I had a little splurge on writing very short stories on twitter. I’ve compiled them here for your perusal, with a little refinement. (Must return to writing my novella.)

I.

He held the dandelion in his pudgy hand.

“I am the destroyer of worlds,” he said, then blew.

A hundred worlds took flight in genesis.

II.

She watched the rain speak in the puddles; the geometric voice of Gallifrey she saw on tv, retreated into her mind to explore time & space.

III.

The inhabitants of Kelvinator measured their daily cycle by the light’s sporadic flashes. They cursed their gods when the light failed.

IV.

The telephone wires paralleled his pace with the road; watching the cables looping from post to post, connecting the lover and the loved as a physical symbol.

Which is your favourite? Write one of your own in the comments.

Raining Arguments – Very Short Story

Behind her the argument continued as she watched two rain drops run parallel down the window, merged, then broke apart again.