Five Sentence Fiction: Ambrosial




Well, I may not have done all of my schoolwork over this Spring Break (you should have seen the stacks of this stuff, it was redonkulous! I refused to do some of it out of pure principle and both hatred for Infinite Just [which is over now, thank you!] and love for Shogun 2: Total War) but I managed to get this done in time, darnnit! And wow do I find myself just going full self-introspection and playful (and almost punny) with these Five Sentence Fiction prompts. They’re a strangely cathartic release from the dark, broody, or character-internalized stories of Friday Fictioneers.

My Gemini-ness comes through yet again!


Have fun~




Word of Inspiration: Spoiled

Word Count: 137

Genre: Creative Realistic Fiction

Title: Ambrosial



It wasn’t even Thanksgiving but I probably wouldn’t believe anybody if they told me that. I had only been away for six months, two weeks, and fifteen days (because apparently the time just flies by when you’re at college). The turkey was the centerpiece but it all painted an ambrosial (look at me with my new college vocabulary, that’s $40,000 a year going to good use right there!) picture in my nose. The whole room smelt of smoked cedar, like everything on the table had been made by hand over the last three days by loving Russian Jewish mothers. And then my dad had to go and sneeze (but not just sneeze, he blew his nose too) and suddenly the feeling is six-weeks-too-old special kind of spoiled through a dark streak of mucus-green onto my nasal picture.



In honour of my desire for short, pithy sentences, allow me to show you my five-word five-sentence fiction entry:


Word of Inspiration: Spoiled

Word Count: 5

Genre: Creative Realistic Fiction

Title: I Refuse to Give This Story a Name


Turkey. Wafts. Cedar. Sneeze. Spoiled.






As it turns out, I lied horribly in my story. College does not go quickly. Even in retrospection, I feel like I’ve been in college for half of my natural life. My life-reshaping personal growth and revelations of knowledge I previously couldn’t even begin to comprehend may have had something to do with it, though.

Maybe. Probably. Possibly.

And also, I have no idea what cedar smells like when it burns but if it smells like its colours, I imagine is smells like my dining room with the molding-lights are on.

I hear literary folks eat descriptions like this up. Makes it feel very “real” and very “personal.” I would more call it, “Having no idea how to say something that is, by natural, indescribable.” Which is actually kind of “real” and “personal.”

I’ll just keep doing what I’m doing!



Good luck, you brave writer folk!





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