Well, after my little realization for metamorphosis that I had in my last entry, I decided to A: not take the prompt so literally (I always had to do some kind of pun about what I was looking at) and B: inject my usual sense of mysticism into my story. Really, everything’s made a bit more interesting with some absurdist magic inserted into it. Sure, the story itself is totally feasible, but a story isn’t just plot, the word choice can define it just as much as anything else.
So, that’s what I tried this week! I think it went pretty okay. Although now I have a newfound appreciation for my own physical flaws. The life of a vain hedonist sounds awful. And high-maintenance.
Title: Blessed Perfection
Genre: Realistic(ish) Fiction
Word Count: 100
Even my reflections smile at me. In the parallel universes of water and glass fine art is still appreciated. I smile and infinite worlds smile back. Still, it was not enough.
I found it in an antique store that smelled of old sofas. It was made of wood and probably had thousands of imperfect hands touching it. But I thought of the end results and ignored my distaste. I held that old kaleidoscope up to the grandest of my sixteen mirrors.
I felt tears welling up. And I let them overflow.
Infinite reflections of myself… Perfection in thousands of lenses.
I modeled the antique shop in the story on one near my campus, actually. And it does in fact smell like old grandma couches. I really like it in there.
Once more, I find I have nothing to say here! Five-sentence Fiction seems to get all of my good pre and post-entry banter. Probably because I could only use about half of the sentences I really wanted to when writing said entry. But suffice to say, I like where this one went and will try to keep up this zaniness (at least for a little while). It was more fun to write, too.
Good luck, you brave writer folk!