So it turns out I’m writing a book, actually two, but we won’t look at the other one, it’s lurking in the background, and I’m happy to leave it there. Well until it jumps out at me someday soon and demands I work on it, lest it haunt me in the night. Then it’ll haunt […]
Life in a pocket universe was far, far too dull. It required a special sort of moron to enjoy a reality featuring zero chance of “misfortune.” Sadly, her grandparents were precisely such. When New Worlds Inc. had brought sub-universe 63, “Safe&Secure” online 400 years ago, they were first in line.
63 alternatives, and they opted for the one with acronym S.S. You couldn’t make this shit up.
The train station is a master of disguise, and the pace of modern life makes its deception all the easier. The station, to most, is a purely utilitarian space, existing purely to be passed through; it is not a destination. Now they are not wrong, but neither are they entirely correct.
A writer of fiction must be brave. Now some of you will think this is a rather self-indulgent; bravery is the province of people who take on terrifying challenges. Firefighters are brave (of course they are!), not authors! Burning buildings versus blank pages, sure that sounds equivalent.
But … hear me out.
So today hasn’t been the best of days, given my Fiancé’s dog passed away not too much earlier on. So it’s nice to end with some better news.
My story, Contact (readable on Wattpad, or on my blog – the one I keep linking), won the September Sci-Fi challenge for short fiction on Wattpad!
Tiddles is now four feet wide,
and whilst others might swell with pride,
To have a cat so grand, so fat,
I do not, for mine is flat.
Belief, particularly of the “self” variety, seems entirely central to the would be professional, or semi-professional, writer.
“In token of his artistic mastery, Giotto di Bondone offered, simply, the picture of a perfect circle, drawn free-hand. Benedict IX, the Pope, seeing Giotto’s ‘O’ in a sea of audacious audition pieces, duly awarded di Bondone, the commission for new work in St.Peter’s.”
“Father”, Servator, called.
“Yes?” came the response with almost no delay.
“Father, what are you doing?”
“My designated tasks, Servator, what else?” Father replied.
This story was written as an entry to the Wattpad SF competition: Legend. It was December 5th, 3786 CE; not long now, not long at all. 8 hours alone remained of a wait lasting 500 years. One “theory”, held that it would be a perfect half millennium to the day, and hour, when those few […]
Georgina was at a loss for a second. Then came the mantra, ‘what would Amani do, what would Amani do?’
So Georgina smiled, and asked if Lisa would like to come inside for some tea and cake. Lisa demurred, saying, “Oh I don’t touch cake. Perfect nutrition makes perfect champions. But tea would be nice, caffeine is a fat burner!”
Georgina was about to embark on a quest. She was sure it was a quest; it did after all have all the trappings. There was, first and foremost, an evil queen to vanquish. Blocking Georgina’s righteous path, stood the monarch’s trusted henchmen, (or was that henchpeople now?). These villains, in turn, could count on the deluded masses for a steady supply of mindless minions to do their dark bidding. To prevail, Georgina could not act alone, valiant, and cunning, as she was; no, she would need a fellowship…
Archie was having a scunner of a day. At 14 years old, he could think of a tonne of things he’d rather be doing than chaperoning his little brother around the National Museum. Mostly, It wasn’t that he’d been here at least 3 times before; or even that that Saturday afternoon was prime gaming time.Mainly it was because his brother was a menace. At 14 Archie tended to low opinions on those in single digits, but Frankie, all nine years of him, was a special case…