Friday Fictioneers: Live Wire




Based on real events from last night. Filming football games takes a lot of mettle, I assure you. Especially when it’s 40 degrees and windy.


Have fun~




Image Copyright: Connie Gayer
Image Copyright: Connie Gayer


Title: Live Wire

Genre: Almost Nonfiction

Word Count: 100




The football stadium thrums with life. Our video feed, however, does not.

“We’re live in five minutes, people. Pick up the pace.” My boss tenses over his keyboard like a turtle under attack. The cold inside comes his temper.

“Page?” Someone asks. “Did we forget her?”

“Crap,” my boss said. “She had our video cable.”

“I’m right here,” Page said.

“Right where?”


“No, I mean the cable.”

“I guess I’m able,” Page says, chewing her lip. “I signed up for this, didn’t I?”

“The video cable.”

The crowd outside roars. Football must be a huge deal to some people.






Boy, when it rains it really pours doesn’t it? It always seems like whenever I actually have free time, there’s a thousand new things that I discover that come crawling out of the ground like zombies. The football filming I referenced in the story is one such 12 hour roadblock/zombie.



Good luck, you brave writer folk!






Five Sentence Fiction: Died Twice




I find that the hardest part of making these blog posts is writing this beginning and ending parts. I seem to just ride by the seat of my pants until something cool shows up so I can ramble about it. I’ve just gotten lucky up until now. Too bad I can’t seem to be lucky in any else I do.

But maybe if I can flood the internet enough with of my random flash fiction until it is almost impossible to ignore me! This is probably impossible due to the fact that I can’t be bothered to write these intros.


Have fun~




Word of Inspiration: Flames

Word Count: 147

Genre: Realistic Fiction

Title: Died Twice


If I lit all of these roses on fire, they wouldn’t burn for more than a few seconds. So, why do I think that it’s enough to lay them down next to your headstone— why do I think that a momentary spark could ever compare to a volcano?

“Remember how we said that neither of us would outlive the other,” I ask, “how we were going to die at the same time? We were in the old farmhouse we found in the woods that one day, the day when there were so many humming birds we started making up songs to sing alongside them, and we were smiling at each other… well…”

I tried to push the words from my mouth, but they wouldn’t come; I couldn’t give life to the words, I couldn’t admit that she was right— when she died, I think I did too.






For instance, I started writing this blog post over half an hour ago, but I just can’t be bothered to finish it up. This is a real problem! It’s going to get even worse in a bit since I think I’m going to actually be tackling Guns of Icarus next in my Lorequest entries, which may or may not end up being somewhat like the eventuality of Shadow of the Colossus and like Chivalry where I include some huge prose-y story to go along with the mythos I created.

That’s if I can be bothered to write an intro, outro, and do all the tags, of course.

Big ifs, yeah?



Good luck, you brave writer folk!