Flash! Friday Semi-Finalists

Didgeridoo. CC2.0 photo by Francois de Halleux.

Got the news on Sunday that my post on Flash! Friday's Anniversary contest actually impressed the judges enough to earn a spot in their semi-final round.  HOLY CRAP!!!!

Now, in a frenzy of esoteric verbiage, compressed into the demands of time and schedule, I have crafted my next submission - based on the photo prompt above.

Curious, this is...for the first time in the history of this blog the leading photo is NOT my own work...

I breathe welcome to the photo, and offer up - my next Flash Fiction story...

Synergy

239 words

Curious, this is. 

Reality is tubular, cylindrical, a lone passageway knifing sharply down through infinity, terminating in brilliant illumination.  Nooks and crannies; pockmarks, protuberances and extrusions ruffle the world in an unstructured, random riot of texture.  This crinkly chaos is populated by myself and my brethren.  

They breathe welcome to me even as I do the same.

A moment ago, there was nothing - formless, shapeless, non-being oblivion.  I was  -we were-  simply not.  This wrinkled thoroughfare was empty and still.  

But now?   

 I Am.                                           We Are.  

 The first taste of awareness, existence, self.  It is sweet. Potent. Electric.  We tremble with its resonance. 

The world breathes welcome to us even as we do the same.  

It's exhalation whispers amongst the landscape, caressing the nodules and pleats -and us- in its journey downward.  Exciting, the breath is, full of movement, direction, and intent. Wrapped in breath's embrace, some brethren go swirling down, down, down toward the dazzling terminus.

Curious, this is.  

There is only expectation, possibility, the assumption of completion from those who pirouette their way to infinity.  We know without knowing how that this voyage is inevitable, absolute and final, but greater than us, the various parts.   

It is...the future.  As formless and timeless as ourselves, yet gravid with potential and the promise of:

NEXT.

We wait, poised and ready, for the next breath...

To emerge...reborn... 

A saucy little tune from the bell of the wooden flute.

Flash! Friday's Flash-versary

Headed over to Flash! Friday again -it's a celebration of draconic proportions as they celebrate the turning of their own personal clock.  'Tis an anniversary!


Go...look...and post a story of your own if you're in to flash fiction - there's still time to contribute, and PLENTY to read.  Below is my submission:

Pyromaniac

150 words

Flame.
Orange against black.  Subtle licks of cerulean, scarlet, saffron and emerald flare into being to vanish in an instant later without a trace.  Elongated fingers of incandescence stretch into the void to momentarily paint their essence onto the obsidian night sky.

Inferno.
It is alive with movement - sliding, shifting, waving, weaving - its hypnotic, primal dance both beautiful and terrible as it crafts a timeless, mesmerizing, elemental ballet of destruction.

Blaze.
The voice of combustion, a low, throaty growling howl of clean air transformed to sweltering luminescence, whispering secret desires into the ears of those who worship it.

Immolation.
They listen, comprehending the flare's song in that most primitive portion of the brain.  They stare, glassy-eyed and slack-jawed, into the complex twisting leap and swirl of the living flame.  They are powerless to resist the compelling demands of spark, ember, pyre.

Intentional.
Some men live to watch the world burn.

Micro Bookends - Flash Fiction

Another Flash Fiction challenge accepted - and another website to follow!


Micro Bookends



These guys like things short. Really short:  90 - 110 words.  You start and end the piece with the words provided, and incorporate the photo prompt in there.




This week the challenge is:   

Sacred {insert story here} Sound.  

There is a quirky panorama of an airplane hangar for the photo prompt.

I have to admit - I spent some time bouncing ideas around in my head first focusing on the words.  It wasn't until I stopped worrying about the beginning and ending words and started focusing on the type of photo - the panoramic style where the vertical lines 'curve' around the middle of the photo - that I had the thought.

"How do other species 'see' the human world?"
After that - it almost wrote itself...

Enjoy.

Bird Calling

105 words

"Sacred is the flight of the bird, to take wing upon sky and soar amongst cloud.  Observe, oversee, monitor the heavy ones.  Gaia watches through you."

When the sun rises, so does the ancient one, singing the morning call to send us on our tasks.  The aerie fills with the cacophony of wing and song as my brethren take to the sky.

Today, I shall perch near the predator upright's wing enclave, where they house their funny hollow avians, to sing and observe until Gaia has her fill.


"Birdsong," one pipes up, throwing a chunk of bread my way, "I never tire of the sound."

Inhospitable Wonderland

A while ago, I found a simple post by a wonderful lady on Google+ - she took a shot of the front grill of her pot bellied stove with a warm and inviting fire burning merrily inside...jotted down a brief post about how it was time for more wood on the fire, and coffee to act as balance against the cold snowflakes.

The image was a beautifully done contrast between the dark iron of the stove's door and the bright orange back-light of the fire - and through the slits in the door you could see the fire's dancing forms.  The image evokes thoughts and feelings of warmth, solitude, and simplicity.  I appreciate a lot of photography, but to be honest, very few things draw me as powerfully as these overly-darkened shots with bright highlights, as it's my favorite photographic style.

I've got terabytes of dark shots in my own portfolio.

I caught this shot on one of my last walks downtown of the year - obviously around Halloween.  A week or so later, and we got the cold thing.  Hibernation time!

Although - I do brave the cold thing every once in a while,when the need is there.  I had a project buzzing in my head last winter for a glass etch/ photographic fusion, so I ran out, in the dark, in the cold (and yea..it was COLD that night - sub-zero temps with blustery winds) to catch some Christmas decorations.







Here's a shot of that finished project - the glass in the frame was etched to suggest the snow on the tree - and the lights were heavily saturated to bring them through the frost.





Well, I caught the shot of the cast-iron stove grill out of the corner of my eye (figuratively speaking) and before the coffee had kicked in (that's literal!), and saw something completely different than what she'd shot.   So...of to 'shop I went in a hurry...to bring the idea to life...



The big picture at the top of this post is what I saw in my head.


A good mental image is a terrible thing to waste...


And - to honor the other little bit of creativity that's currently sparking in my head - I'm going to pair this up with a bit of flash fiction:

Habitat for Humanity   

157 words

Bah! 

I lift my left hand in a classic, 
albeit extremely rude, 
very human, salute, 
giving the outside world, steel walls, 
and endless platitudes I'm fed on a daily basis 
the full fury of my middle finger.

Life itself is the most precious gift we are given...

We prided ourselves on being masters of our environment. 

Masters of space.  Masters of time.  Tamers of the universe.

For as long as there is breath in my body...

Yet our arrogance didn't grant us a single second 
of additional grandstanding

when the visitor's weapons melted our sky.

My duty to mankind is to document its downfall...

I'm tired of solitude. Sick of stale air. 

Angered with the never-ending firestorm that rages 
outside this tiny bubble of compatible environment 
I'm enclosed in.

And for this...I am a lucky one...

I was one of the few they retained as museum pieces. 

Specimens. 

Oddities. 

Pets.

 signed
human goldfish in a bowl...

Flash Fiction

I had a 'bout of Origami creativity strike around 2 years ago - one thing I was absolutely obsessed over was making a paper rose.  I started small and simple, with an iris and a crane, and progressed up through boxes, crabs, lotus flowers, neat little spinney toys, tessellations and other mathematical forms until I was ready to tackle the rose.  I never did figure out how to properly 'close' the form's bottom end - but I took one of the better roses and stuck a light inside it.  You can still see some of the printing from the inside bleeding through.

I did all different colors, too...

It's such a flashy little flower, which brings me to the topic of the day - Flash Fiction.


Insert fanfare here...


I'd never heard of this concept up until a few weeks ago, when I was, once again, searching the blog-o-sphere for that next creative spark.  I give out a hearty hat-tip to Brandon and his blog:    Coolerbs Reviews

Granted, reviews usually aren't my thing - but you did suggest a new book for the kindle that I've got lined up in my purchase queue.  You also introduced me to this Flash Fiction thing.  Many, MANY thanks for sharing your short fictions with the world...you've presented me with an ever-expanding assortment of new ideas to put my creativity to the test.


The concept of Flash Fiction is infuriatingly simple.  The host site posts a picture, an idea, a specific starting/ending word, or any other variation that a mind can come up with.  The participants then post a story with this theme in mind. 

That covers the fiction aspect...

The Flash part comes in with a quick timeline for submissions (24-48 hour windows), and a small word count (I've seen 55-500 word counts).  If you feel the need to more traditional flashing...please DON'T post any pictures, and have a friend's phone number memorized for bail money.


I can see my fingers quiver........in antici-                                                                    pation!



This is a style of writing I can really get behind.  I get to crystallize a single moment of time - flash frozen - for the reader's consumption.  And, with weekly contests floating around the 'net, I have several sources of nourishment for my muse, giving her exactly what she needs to power my writing - that all illusive, yet vital as breathing, initial spark.

That, I've found, is the hardest part of the creative process - that initial thought, the tiny push that starts the rock rolling, to become the thunderous 'IDEA' that rolls along the neurons of my mind, stirring up the roadbed and leaving new pathways to explore in its wake.



And in the beginning...there was a...monkey?


Here's a flash fiction site I found on Friday:  Flash Friday.  They posted a picture of a monkey seated on the balcony of a (I assume) hotel room in a tropical location - you can see the expanse of aquamarine blue water and a cityscape behind the creature.  The length of the story was 150 words (+/-10), and you had to squeeze in the name of an author.

Granted, I could go to the site and swipe the picture - but I want to allow click-backs to this wonderful, dragon-citing blog site - so go see it for yourself.  And maybe...leave a story or two...


Sadly, I found this site on Friday afternoon, and submissions had to be put in by Midnight.  Life, Groceries, and the SQO happened Friday evening - so I couldn't finish up this first Flashy Fiction story until today.  I simply couldNOT leave a quickie piece to languish half-done and unshared - so Enjoy!

MonkeyBusiness - 146 words

"There!"
"Where?"
"The Balcony!"

She glares first out the window, then swings violent eyes to me, certain the declaration of not-to-be-seen things once again proves I'm insane.  She storms from the room, anger trailing in her wake, snarling "Get your hands off me, you damn dirty ape!"  as I stretch a calming hand toward her shoulder. 

The words are laced with all the fury of Pierre Boulle's first pen stroke, and the room shakes with the thunder of her slamming the door.

Forever, it has followed, silent shadow, tormentor and muse.  The fecund stench of hot fruit announces his appearance, a drift of grey fur follows in the wake of his vanishing. 

He mocks me,
inspires me,
denounces and fires me.

Wizened face,
cold eyes, grimace
For me only, not the miss.

For to me
reality,
but alas she cannot see...


The Monkey at my Back.