National Novel Writing Month

NaNoWriMo is fast approaching, and I’m going to give it another run! I managed to win it last year with my novel “The Earth Affair,” and I’m going to attempt it again with a new novel called “The Avalon Inquiry.” This novel is actually based off the Flash Fiction “Go Home” which you can find a few posts below. It will revolve around Theodore Chance, one of the four core study subjects of the Avalon Inquiry.

Hit the jump for a short teaser.

The Curse of the Eleventh Faerie

WR:  College is hectic!  I’ve fallen out of writing everyday, but I finally wrote something today!  Its 3x as long as my usual flash fictions, but I think y’all will like it anyways.  Enjoy!

‘Once upon a time’ they say, hah!  They only say such a thing because they do not know the correct date.  They heard this ‘thrilling tale’ from someone who heard it from someone who eavesdropped in on someone else’s conversation.  Heaven only knows where that person heard it from.

Now, there is a very specific story that irks me at the moment.  Perhaps you have heard of it – the story of the sleeping curse, and the castle of roses?

Of Porcelain Gnats and Time

Stupid little porcelain gnats, fluttering around like the world was built for them.

They order their shoes to fit, their sashes measured perfectly, and choose colored fabric just right for their skin.  All of this to convince themselves that the world is built, tailored, and structured to fit snugly around their silly little beings.

Amelia never could abide such a concept:  as if the world would fit your hand like a smooth silk glove, airy and light with little sensation.

In her opinion, the world was meant to be bumped into, scraped up against, tumbled about in, and thrashed upside down on top of.

Silk gloves and darling slippers – these things she never truly understood.

When she expressed this to her study partner, Ned, he replied quite cooly:  “Then it is a good thing you do not live in this century.”

An Untitled Mess

Once upon a time, there lived a girl.  She had brown hair, blue eyes, and freckles on her arms.  She hates reading and the smell of ink, and keeps a ragdoll in her backpack at all times.  She doesn’t eat eggs and loves trumpet music.

Her name is Sadie, and she believes she can fly.

She plans to take off some day – just run up to the beach cliffs near her house and fly away.  She’ll run right off the edge of the cliff, dip down, catch her breath and shoot away into the sky.

Go Home

Wr:  I’ve been a terrible blogmiss and have been skipping saturdays.  So here is an extra Sunday Flashie for y’all.

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“Do you remember Avalon?”

The young man was slumped over in his chair, dressed in green-grey pajamas and bare feet.  He didn’t answer.

“Terry?”  The voice asked again.  “Mr. Theodore Chance?”

“I want to go home.”  The young man muttered into the table, refusing to sit up.  Across the table sat a man in a lab coat, a man in a suit, and a woman casual clothes.  To the right hand of the woman sat a video camera, with a large microphone pointed at the young man.  All of them – man, woman, camera – were watching him and waiting.

Zeta Reticuli

“Put me down for…. nineteen sixty-two.”

“Oo, same year as last night.  How daring.”

“Hey, I have my methods for choosing.”

“A spinning wheel?  A dart board?”

“Very funny.  Put me down for it.”

Illustration for “Collector”

The FF Collector now has a lovely illustration!

An illustration of the ghostly young Collector

Little Blind Girl

“Hello, little blind girl!”

The cheery voice startled Abby out of her daze.  She closed her eyes, previously unaware that anyone else was in the room.

“Hello?”  The voice asked again.  It was a boy’s voice, and sounded fairly young.

“Leave it off.”  A second voice said, gravelly and weak.

“She’s blind.  Do you think she’s mute or deaf too?”  The cheery voice asked.

“Maybe she just doesn’t want to talk to you.”  The tired voice snapped.

Orphan Eyes

“Oh, he’s seen things.”

That is what people say.  They see someone who is too old, or too weather-worn, or too sad to be beautiful.  And they say:  “They’ve seen things.”

“Look at her eyes.”

“So deep.  Such things he’s seen.”

But its all silly blubber and twaddle.  Of course they’ve seen things – who hasn’t?  Everyone has seen something. Even a newborn child has had experiences and dreams.

Like a Novella

“You’re a fool, Richard.”  The woman let her stack of books thump down on the table, sending up a soft cloud of dust.
“A fool of the richest sort.”  The man standing across the table from her said coyly, touching his finger to his nose.
“A fool and a braggart.”  The woman said, opening the first book in the pile.  “You even stand like one.”
The man was standing with his legs slightly apart, one hand in his pocket and the other in the process of pulling comb from his coat.  He stopped, pulled his hand from his pocket, straightened his jacket, and assumed a less brash stance.
“I hate it when you pose so.  Just because you have the clothes doesn’t mean you have to walk around like a man from a crime novella.”  The woman said, still not looking up at the man.
“I think I could be rather convincing the hero of a crime novella.”  The man responded.
“Except you’d have to be a hero.”  The woman said bitingly.