Five Sentence Fiction Double Feature: Sick and/or Dying + Making Noise

 

BEGIN TRANSMISSION.

 

Why hello there. It’s been a little while, hasn’t it? I’d like to think it has been. Well, for the last few days I certainly have not been idle, I just haven’t been here. Well, I was sick for part of it. Sick with both a pretty nasty cold and a slowly-worsening case of senioritus. The fact that spell-check doesn’t acknowledge that word disgusts me. Well anyhow, I think (I think) that I’m very nearly done being sick. So now it’s just a matter of navigating all of the rest of the stuff in my life to keep my blog updated. And boy do I have some things to maybe share but in the meantime, here’s a special DOUBLE FEATURE of Five Sentence Fiction, one based on how I was feeling yesterday and one on how I was feeling the day before. Suffice to say, the height of my sickness was on Tuesday. And yet, the story based around Tuesday ISN’T the one about sickness.

Weird!

 

Have fun~

 


 

 

Word of Inspiration: Isolation

Word Count: 131

Genre: Realistic Fiction

Title: Sick and/or Dying

 

Here’s something nobody tells you about being sick; people like to ignore you. Just because I’m probably highly contagious and I may have physically coughed up a lung once (but I can only do it twice, I mean I only have two of them) doesn’t mean I want to just stay in bed all day. Hidden benefit to being sick though— you can just guilt a lot of your friends into helping you and they wouldn’t dare say no to you unless they just want to prove how terrible they are at friendship and life. What do you mean you won’t run to the store and buy me Nyquil, oranges, two more pillows, a personal fan, and a baby ferret? You know what, I’m probably okay enough to just get myself.

 

 

ALTERNATIVELY

Word of Inspiration: Isolation

Word Count: 153

Genre: Realistic Fiction

Title: Making Noise

 

There’s noise coming out of my windows— not from the outside but from the inside. The noise is leaking out from my room and it’s the sound of keyboard clicks, shutters clacking, whispering and yelling and laughing and longing, and thoughts put to paper and screen and whiteboard. It must be deafening because nobody can look up from their walking in the streets to even look up to see where it’s all coming from. And I can see them from my window (I have seen their looks and haste before, you see) and I remember those looks from men and women in suits holding invisible gavels as they stand over the sentencing bench of my life. I have been making noise my entire life and now that the university falls away around me, I can see that the noise I thought was being loud enough to deafen was just falling upon deaf ears.

 

 

 


 

 

Yeah, something else nobody tells you about being sick is that it makes everything else seem a thousand times worse. And what’s even more terrible about THAT is that if you’re stressing about things that are actually bad then it just makes you feel even more sick. It’s a horrible cycle of destruction that is only solved by a timely intervention of Advil, sleep, and good luck.

At least two of those things you can get at your local pharmacy. I’m not telling you which two they are.

 

 

Good luck, you brave writer folk!

 

END TRANSMISSION.

 

 

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