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

 

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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!

 

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Five Sentence Fiction: Taketh

 

My friends, I present to you once again, the fruits of my labour that were only picked right before the deadline and are filled with self-referential inability to come up with some so short over such a long stretch of time. One would think that it would be fairly easy then for me to come up with something that was only five sentences long. Well that would be, like many things in our tiny tiny lives, would be wrong. What can I say, I really like short and punchy sentences? So 100 words in Friday Fictioneers is much harder than 5 sentences in Five Sentence Fiction.

Besides, I (supposedly) kicked my habit of run-on sentences a long time ago.

 

Have fun regardless~

 


 

 

Word of Inspiration: Villainous

Word Count: 180

Genre: Creative Nonfiction (I suppose)

Title: Taketh

 

 

I see you there, over there in the dark corners of my thought processes, where you think I can’t see you. I can see through your lies and your deceptions… but that doesn’t mean I’m going to disregard them, pass by them like a 2/2 Dimir blue-black creature with unblockable (which I think you can create by using the Dimir keyrune… I had better go look that up on Google really quick or it’s going to keep bugging me)- in fact, it probably means I’m just going to be chained to them like a big iron anchor.

Why do iron anchors not fall apart from rust by being underwater for so long (it’s because there’s a notable lack of oxygen, which is necessary for the rusting process, in the ocean)? I’m glad I looked that up, or else it would have just kept bugging me.

Curse you villainous curiosity, you who sits over there in my dark thought process tunnels, you who giveth prose and taketh away simply because I can ask “what if?” at the right or wrong times.

 

 


 

 

Oh, Five Sentence Fiction, if you’re not the step-headed red child of this family of short fiction (Featured Fiction is currently away at college and will not be rejoining us until she has completed her studies), then I don’t know what is. It’s hard to write you in general, hard to write a foreword or afterword and hard to become enthused when I don’t have my PUNCHY LITTLE LINES that I thrive on as a person who couldn’t live without free-indirect style and free-flowing narrative!

But hey, at least the M.N.P. worked out well, huh?

Yes, yes it did.

 

 

Good luck, you brave writer folk!

 

END TRANSMISSION.

 

 

 

Friday Fictioneers Fiction: Remembering History

 

So, this was a weird one certainly. Both this and Five Sentence Fiction felt like giving me prompts about renewal and new beginnings. So naturally, I just had to write about the bitter ending of things. And that’s weird for me! I’m usually so upbeat, talking about such lovely subjects as debilitating illness, anxiety, and crippling insanity. But death? Please, I have my standards!

And so what if they’re low?

Anyway, I think it’s good to be a little broken away from my M.N.P. nonsense. A reflection will be coming for that one soon enough. When I get around to it.

So, never.

 

Have fun~

 


 

 

Image Copyright: Jean L. Hays

Image Copyright: Jean L. Hays

 

Title: Remembering History

Genre: Realistic Fiction

Word Count: 100

 

Unthink what the word means to you, “historic,” and begin anew at a time before our own. After all, just because it’s historic means that it’s worth remembering.

1985, a triple homicide, three friends, just outside of Oklahoma City. Culprit still at large. No obvious motivation. Weapon used: golf club. All three were members of a local country club and were crack-shots with 9-irons.

Then, in 1991, a father, elated with the birth of his son, drove to his Chicago home feeling warm and happy. He died cold and afraid. The mother told the son she had a divorce instead.

 

 

 


 

 

Just so yous knows, neither of those events mentioned are real. At least, not as far as I know. I just made them up for DRAMA. Also, please somebody else let me know that the  last paragraph reminds them of “Days of our Years” from Mystery Science Theatre 3000. It’s only one of their best shorts ever. Which is saying something!

To quote the two robots (and Crow): “So, the leading causes of accidents is joy, sex, and old age?”

 

Quite.

 

 

Good luck, you brave writer folk!

 

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