Alright, so you know how I mentioned I was going to do something related to the wonders of childhood even if the picture for this Friday Fictioneers ended up being really depressing? Well, boy didn’t I get my wish! And I’m a man of my principles so long as they’re convenient and suit me so I tackled childhood wonder with the backdrop of concrete and old sockets!
And, as if it wasn’t enough, after the sensory debacle of my last entry about not considering old Grandpa Joe’s nose getting a bead on the river of sludge running by him so I decided to base this entry heavily around the sense of smell. Which, as I’m sure none of you know, is the sense that is the weakest on my own person. Seriously, my nose is pretty much blind. Though it has remarkably good scent memory! Even so, it’s the scent I regard the least in my writing, probably because it’s bad smells that most people focus on in fiction, which is something I’d rather not re-read.
“Sure, I’ll write an entire chapter of Landfall about a grisly execution but my nose is staying the heck out of it!”
Remember the relationship between
me and my principles my principles and I.
Title: Whiff of Ozone
Genre: Realistic Fiction
Word Count: 100
Josh almost dropped the TV onto the concrete. I thought I heard something jingle behind the old screen. It looked like a freaking microwave with wood on it. And it somehow still smelled like my dad’s closet, like dust and old sweaters that are still worn around like they’re brand new.
We had found the thing out in front of the school-bus stop in the trees. We snuck away, breathing in the sweet air of victory and ditching 8th grade for a day. Now the old warehouse snapped awake when Josh shoved the plug into the socket and it sparked.
Fun Fact: The incident I just described happened in real life in (I think) 8th grade. We didn’t actually take it to a nearby abandoned warehouse nor did we ditch school. But we really wanted to plug the old TV into an outlet right outside the school-bus stop. But it was raining and we didn’t want to fry ourselves. And when we got back… it was GONE. Maybe it was a dead TV that was actually a ghost and then it flew away to haunt all over wood-grain televisions!
In other words, it ran out of hosts, got bored, and died for real after about twelve minutes.
Also, the title is totally from Christmas Story. You know, from that one line in that whole movie that I’m sure nobody but me and other maniacs who watch it all day all Christmas on TBS. I didn’t even realize I was using it until it was already down. Oh well, it goes with the smell-oriented thing. I like that smell, actually, ozone. It reminds me of burning metal.
Why do I find that nice? See, this is why I don’t touch the sense of smell. It’s weird!
Good luck, you brave writer folk!