Flash! Friday: Final Double Feature




That’s not the title of the actual entries. It’s just that this is the last time Flash! Friday is doing its flashy Friday thing. It’s been fun, if incredibly stressful.

Speaking of stressed…


Have fun~




Title: Time, Stampeding

Word Count: 100

On Friday everything changed.

I was a young man on Thursday. On Wednesday I was a fountain of imagination. On Tuesday the world was studded with diamonds. On Friday, as sudden as a startled breath, I felt ragged. Old friends are now a world away. New friends are mere theories.

All my joints ache and my thoughts come halting, like they’re all flying backwards to neater, better times. There’s no snow in the middle of winter and I feel a great unbalance in my world.

If I convince myself I still have the young man’s pulse, perhaps it’s actually true.




I was going to write something else here. But then I lost all of my energy and most of my will to live.






Nope, still stressed. What a way to send it off, huh.




Good luck, you brave writer folk!





Daily Prompt 7: “Trains, Planes, and Automobiles.”

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Trains, Planes, and Automobiles.”




Unemployment is strangely liberating in the opportunities it provides.


Have fun~



Title: “Trains, Planes, and Automobiles.”

Prompt: “You’re going on a cross-country trip. Airplane, train, bus, or car? (Or something else entirely — bike? Hot air balloon?)”


Short answer: Train.

Long Answer: TRAIN.


I love trains, always have. As a child, I wanted to be a train conductor as my dream job. All those stupid kids wanting to be astronauts and doctors and stuff. Me, I just wanted to ride trains. There’s something utterly delightful about riding a train. It’s not so claustrophobic or security-obsessed as a plane and it’s not nearly so loud or disorienting. You get to see the countryside zip past you without having to drive or do any real work on your own. It’s a magical kind of feeling for me, to be honest. I usually take a trip down to Chicago once every two months or so (depends, sometimes its more like once a month) and I always look forward to the train rides going down there and coming back. I love listening to the other passenger’s conversations (which is like eavesdropping but I almost immediately forget what was said a day or two later [unless its drunk teenagers/college kids. That stuff’s gold in word form]) and letting the whole of the visible world roll by.


Which also means I actually get to look at the towns and people as we pass them. Gives me a bit of a perspective shift when I see all of the places I pass in a train, even just doing down to Chicago. The main thing I’ve realized about this all is that the world is really freaking big.


Like, there are three things I don’t get from people:

  1. When asked, “Did it all seem to go quickly?” about my college career, my answer of “heck no,” usually surprises people. I mean, four years in which I radically changed (for the better [?]) as a person alongside making all-new friends and learning something new every single day, can hardly pass in a wink. Freshman year seems a lifetime ago already.

2. Being told that, because of the internet, the world seems so much smaller now. If anything, the world’s bigger now than ever before. When you go onto Wikipedia and realize that there are thousands (if not millions) of articles that’s just extremely truncated information on incredibly complex and complicated topics, you can kind of realize just how giant the world is. Or how going from Illinois to India by plane takes the greater part of a day? Realizing how long a day really is and how fast you’re going in a plane and the world just grows exponentially in size in my head.

3. No, inquisitive old people, I never went to any sports games while at college. Except for half a basketball game once. Which was actually pretty fun. Still! Do I look like a sportsy person to you?


Fun Fact: I want my wedding to be a train. One with multiple cars so the reception can be held and then the food and all that can be in a different room and then we can even sleep on it. Since I’ve always wanted to do that. I’ll just have to convince my partner to be okay with having a less-than-traditional wedding night.

Besides, then I can say to my partner, “I never want to get off of our crazy train.”

Provided the entire audience isn’t killed with the blunt trauma of that pun, I’d consider that line al

one worth the whole affair.







<a href="https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/trains-planes-and-automobiles/">Trains, Planes, and Automobiles</a>



Is it normal to become really sleepy and distracted all the sudden when reading something that you’re totally not interested in? Like, even if its a three-sentence-long (and not MY kind of paragraph-long sentences, either) email? Because boy does it happen a lot to me.


Good luck, you brave writer folk!






Friday Fictioneers: Lucid Dreaming




Seems I made this blog two year ago today. Why on earth I chose to make it in October I’ll never know. Heck, I didn’t even do anything with this until July or so of last year.

The totally irrelevant and largely not-worth-investigating mysteries of life.

But hey, I guess this means that I almost share an anniversary with Rochelle Wisoff-Field’s reign of Friday Fictioneers? Now that’s actually interesting!


Have fun~



Image Copyright: Ron Pruitt

Image Copyright: Ron Pruitt


Title: Lucid Dreaming

Genre: Realistic Fiction

Word Count: 100


Like a time machine set to 1863 (hurry, the Battle of Gettysburg is starting soon), my mind is thrown backwards to a land that is familiar, untouched, and thus, alien.

I still have a wife, a son, a purpose to live. Back then, Father’s Day didn’t feel like a funeral. Like a great battle, the causalities were absolute in the war between my wife and I, though we couldn’t tell you who fired the first shot.

I suppose I expected myself to wake up from that nightmare until the lucidity becomes normality. There’s no waking up from an arresting reality.







I think I ended up turning this one into a dream because of all of the lucid dreaming I’ve been doing recently. I tell you, it’s a lot less fun than it sounds when you’re attacked by a spider so large that it bumps your whole body as it runs under you which causes you to wake up in real life very afraid and very spazzy.

Still cool though, in retrospect.



Good luck, you brave writer folk!






Daily Prompt 4: “By the Dots”

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “By the Dots.”




I think I’ve been meaning to do one of these for a while but nope, just getting to it now. I really wanted to do that magical creature one but decided that extrapolating on a fantasy magic system I devised surrounding the power of words in a novel being transformed into real spell power (nepotism, you say? What’s that?!).


Maybe one day!



Have fun~



Title: By the Dots


Prompt: “We all have strange relationships with punctuation — do you overuse exclamation marks? Do you avoid semicolons like the plague? What type of punctuation could you never live without? Tell us all about your punctuation quirks!”


It’s really no surprise that I love dashes. These “-” and these “—” are brilliant little buggers. I always just use them as a kind of escape mechanism to make any kind of sentence I like- for instance I can just fashion other sentences onto earlier ones to make them seem like they’re conjoined but semicolons are far too rare for my liking. Besides, “-” lets me make snide remarks whenever I feel like it. Given that’s how I talk, just with more stuttering while my brain tries to find the right words and more mumbling as I make said remarks, it just seems natural to me. And I love to write as I talk because it lets me be unrealistically accurate with what I’m trying to say in conversation and I get to reach an audience where I won’t constantly be interrupted by the world around me as I’m wont to be!


Oh I love commas, too. Did I even need to put a comma in that last sentence? Who even knows!? I certainly don’t. But that’s part of the fun for me as a writer and for my editors. They have to work for their money to weed out all of the ill-placed and poorly-used commas! If they can survive the comma jungle then they can say they have edited something of mine.


Plus my drive to write dialogue in a such a way that it seems as realistic as possible helps, too. I really want to write a book one day where most conversations have at least one “um,” like,” or “er,” in them. Because that’s what we all talk like, right? Well, at least we young’uns do. And doing that in my medieval books would just seem weird if it was as prevalent as it would be in a more “modern” book. Even though people were far less educated back then, it just seems wrong to foul up their language- or I’m just overthinking it.


But I still managed to sneak that “-” in there after all!

Yeah, this’ll do.






I probably could have included italicizing and bolding as things I do way too often, too. But those technically aren’t punctuations, even though I use them to establish EMPHASIS. See how much more effective that was? The caps-lock was just added for special effect.


It may have also made you just read that in Josh Peck’s voice if you’re one of my contemporaries.


You’re welcome, by the way.




<a href="https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/by-the-dots/">By the Dots</a>


Good luck, you brave writer folk!





Daily Prompt 3: “Right to Brag”

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Right to Brag.”




I’ve got 30 minutes before today’s done, making this Daily Prompt, by and large for no real reason aside from my arbitrary adherence to the space-time continuum, no longer relevant very soon.


Have fun~



Title: Right to Brag


Prompt: “Tell us about something you (or a person close to you) have done recently (or not so recently) that has made you really, unabashedly proud.”



Well, this one’s simple isn’t it? I normally don’t take pride in all of what I do or have done in life simply because if it’s worth being prideful over, it’ll have to be something truly great. And I’m only 22 years old with nary a scratch made into the world. Everything up until this point has just been what was expected of me. I finished High School, went to College, did very well in college (probably better than anyone would have dared hope), and met friends, helped people, had a couple relationships, did dumb and smart things, and generally made a normal mess of life as people are wont to do.


But you know what nobody told me to do? Nobody told me to write a book for my final assignment in my 301 Fiction Writing class. See, I could have put instead that I’m proud of my actual publishing of said book after editing it for a couple of months. Or I could have put that my fiction defence thesis went beautifully in my senior year of undergraduate and that I’m set to release my next book in maybe a month or so.


But nah, I’m choosing to focus on when I was asked to write “30 double-space pages, give or take a few” for my final assignment of 301 Fiction Writing in my junior year of undergraduate. And, like some gremlin meant to torment my poor creative writing teacher (this would be my third and final class taught by her), I handed in 124 pages totaling to a very messy and very ramshackle novella.


I got an A- on the assignment, by the way owing to my general lack of editing. And this was after spending no fewer than 9 hours on one day reading the entire thing from beginning to end and fixing whatever I saw. But fair’s square, I take the grade. Because, like that old stupid saying goes:


“When I say ‘jump,’ you-”


“Sorry, can’t hear you, I’ve already leapt clear through the ceiling.”


I may have paraphrased that a little.


Yes, the original state of Garamoush was ramshackle and held together naught but sheer ambition and imagination but dammit I felt proud (and exhausted, having turned it in only about two minutes before the final deadline) when I held those 124 pages in my hand and they weighed with a weight that I had never known before. It was the weight of accomplishment, of doing something that somebody had asked for in my own way and to my own level of quality and quantity. It was a work entirely wrought from my mind with my hands that could floor everything else I had ever created up until that point.


But see, I knew that it was better than anything else I had ever done. Usually I simply speculate on the importance of works or projects or wonder what greater role they place. That first state of Garamoush helped to define the next couple years of my life and sent me off on a path that I could have only started on if I threw myself up and out through that ceiling with caution to the wind and reckless abandon to assault my professor with tormenting nightmares of grading.


She liked me as a student, though! She sat on my council of literary judgement one year later and gave me a glowing (I assume) acceptance for my research honours thesis.


Or maybe she just wanted me out of her hair.


Until I emailed her about getting letters of recommendation for grad school!


She’ll never be free of me! Never.






Minutes to spare and I’ll I’ve got to do is write a lame little outro. I got this!


So now that’s my cue to start dawdling and wandering into any given Wiki site and emerge three days later with a huge beard and much more knowledge about the state of the Undercity or the political structure of the Imperium of Man than any human ever should.


Above and beyond, right?





<a href="https://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/right-to-brag/">Right to Brag</a>



Good luck, you brave writer folk!




Friday Fictioneers: “Rivers Flows Through Us”




Rain’s weird. It’s so damn neutral. Just nature being nature, not messing up lives or helping them. Just continuing the cycle, spinning nature’s big wheel. And it’s too quiet and contemplative to make a real plot out of.

At least my tired brain says so.


Have fun~




Image Copyright: Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Image Copyright: Rochelle Wisoff-Fields


Title: River Flows Through Us

Genre: Fantasy (?)

Word Count: 100


I wish my antlers could grow leaves. I could be more like unto my lord, nature itself. The way each drop falls from one leaf to the next one down to my own head and then to the soil. Rain is nature’s great river, touching everything in its flow on the way down.

My fawns are young but they know this to be true. They hold their heads up skyward, even without their antlers.

We all laugh, content to be part of the flow of the river, while humans run and hide from it all, running from parts of themselves.






There should be a law about making young people go to bed on Friday before 1:00AM. Just doesn’t seem right.



Good luck, you brave writer folk!




Flash! Friday: “Boneyard.”




I’m starting to re-discover my love for TV Tropes.com. Someone please send help.


Have fun~




Title: Boneyard

Setting: The Middle of the Ocean

Theme: Power of Nature

Word Count: 125


My father told me that there used to be an ocean here, beneath our feet. But I don’t believe him. Oceans just seem so impossible. All that water and all that life taking up so much space. Where did all the people live before the salt-soaked Endless Land formed in its stead?

I ask if oceans ever existed. This makes my father sad for a reason I can’t figure out. He bends down and picks up one tiny bone. A fish bone, he tells me.

“There’s still more?” I say. “I thought I got them all.”

My father pats the huge ribs of the whale’s skeleton that’s become our house.

“That’s what we thought when the oceans were still around. That there’d always be more.”







I really am starting to think that TV Tropes is so brilliant because it’s like Confirmation Bias, the website. It makes you realize how not-insane you are for thinking that something was just soul-crushingly sad on TV when none of your friends think so.

But the internet knows better. It always does.



Good luck, you brave writer folk!