April 17th, 2009 § 3
It’s been a while since I’ve posted a piece of Friday flash fiction. I hope to post another entry later in the day explaining why. For the time being, here is another story that is technically too long to be flash, clocking in at 1,171 words.
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FUNERAL
March 14th, 2009 § 1
Over the past week I published four pieces of flash fiction. The intention was to catch up on all the weeks I’ve missed so far this year. I’m still one short so I’ll be playing catch-up again soon, but I’m pretty pleased that I managed to find the time to devise, write and post four short stories. There are hits and misses but overall I’m happy with them, and as always I’d love to hear your feedback if you’ve got something to say. Be as harsh or as effusively praising as you like: it’s a learning experience.
The stories are Wanderlust, Heralded By Iron, Punk’s Not Dead and Colours Move.
Thanks for reading!
March 13th, 2009 § 7
I made it to Friday, and managed four pieces of flash fiction over the course of the week. Not quite five but it’s a decent showing. You’ll have to imagine me saying that sardonically and throwing pointed looks at some of my fellow flash slacktioneers.
Today’s story is fairly lightweight, I’m afraid, as I’m a bit idea’d out after a busy week and managing to fling myself off my bike yesterday (thus, I feel like I’ve been beaten up… by tarmac).
The title is shamelessly stolen from the excellent Fuck Buttons.
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Colours Move
March 12th, 2009 § 4
What was that about the author meeting his own deadlines?
Yeah, I’m pretty much made of fail. Oh well. Here’s today’s flash fiction. This one’s about punk rock, which will no doubt impress my regular readers as it’s a subject which I so rarely touch upon. The soundtrack for this one is (Shut) Up the Punx!!!
If you missed ‘em earlier in the week, here’s Wanderlust and here’s Heralded By Iron.
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PUNK’S NOT DEAD
March 9th, 2009 § 4
What’s this? Flash fiction on a Monday? This doesn’t seem right, not right at all.
But perhaps it represents an act of contrition. Perhaps the author has been lax, of late, has failed to write or post any fiction to this blog for some time. Shall we say four weeks? I believe we shall.
And perhaps the form that this act of contrition will take is the posting of a piece of flash fiction every day of this coming week, up to and including the now-traditional Friday, thereby restoring the karmic, fictitious balance for 2009.
Perhaps the level of quality demanded of the form this act takes may drop as a result of such pressures, but certainly the spirit of experimentation, the desire to push the authorial self, is as it should be in the established tradition of Friday flash fiction.
We shall see.
We shall see if the author can meet his own deadlines, yes?
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February 2nd, 2009 § 1
…although thankfully not in the same manner as the Wilson household in Sumit Dam’s first F3-associated story, The Unbearable Beings of Lightness (written as part of the “altered film title” thememe).
It’s been a while since anyone else joined in, and since some of the veteran participants have slackened off in recent months it’s good to see some fresh blood fed into this literary swarm.
January 16th, 2009 § 1
Today I had something else planned, but my day turned out busier than expected and the week has generally been a bit fucked up. As a result I’ve quickly finished up something around an old idea; I like the concept but could have done more with it. Ah well. C’est la vie.
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TOTAL CAMPAIGN DOMINANCE
November 14th, 2008 § 3
Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me, happy birthday dear meeee. Happy birthday to me. Now here’s some Friday flash fiction, courtesy of the birthday boy/old man.
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SIGNS
In one direction, the road stretches out towards a dust-hazed horizon. From the other, a walker approaches. It’s a woman, evident from the contours of the thick coat she is wearing, but her face is hidden beneath a fur-lined hood and large tinted goggles. A faded scarf is pulled up over her mouth and nose.
There is no sound but the crunching of grit beneath her boots, and even this ceases as she halts, fists clenched around the straps of her rucksack.
October 3rd, 2008 § 5
Here’s this week’s Friday flash fiction: enjoy! I think it’s thematically a bit too similar to We’re Never Going Home! I’m a bit too caught up in the musical side of my life right now for much else to penetrate; so it goes. Oh, and my good friend Greg H may be joining the F3 posse… I’ll keep you posted! No links as yet, because the absent-minded indie fop doesn’t remember where his own blog is. See, he was born to be a writer.
Hopefully over the weekend I will be bringing you some live and recorded music reviews; we’ll see how that goes. Also, somewhere out there are two book reviews for Vector. I’m puzzled that the latest issue hasn’t appeared yet. Semper fi, eh?
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CARRIED OUT TO THE SEA
The moon is high in a cloudless sky, and the reflected light of that thin crescent jostles with the hundred thousand twinkles of citylight to illuminate the streets below. Some of the competing light bounces off the surface of the river that splits the metropolis in two, wavering as the water is stirred by a chill night breeze.
The Axeman is walking across the great bridge, instrument slung diagonally across his back by the shoulder strap. Its strings are naked and cold in the night air. The pickups glow momentarily as the instrument’s bearer walks beneath a streetlight. People used to call him FR. People used to shout his name.
September 12th, 2008 § 6
Here’s this week’s Friday Flash Fiction, a short story set in the same loose post-apocalyptic world as Sun and Interdiction Zone. This piece was inspired by a particularly chilling chapter in Alan Weisman’s The World Without Us.
It could probably use some more research, but I don’t have the time before that Friday Flash postin’ time, so please excuse any daft errors (but by all means point them out).
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