Ishné and Cat have punished the Ghel for his cruelty. Now, the time has come for the rest of the village to reap what they have collectively sown.
Alder and Cataría stroll the beach as she reveals some of her past trauma. Interrupted by crisis, Alder causes some concern by recklessly dashing into action. Sore and shaken, they return to their hotel room to shower and recuperate. (Recuperate both does and does not warrant finger quotes.)
Life continues to be life and the blades of our enshittened fan continue to turn. At a certain level, I know that completely falling off the radar is a Big No-No™ for someone trying to pass themself off as a writer. What about building an audience? What about keeping content fresh and available? Yes, yes, I know. In the interest of at least having something new to post, I’m sharing a fragmentary WIP that is somewhere in the “things that I may work on eventually” pile. This fragment is probably about a year old. It started as me jotting down a sentence or two of an idea so I could remember and tinker with it later. As is fairly common with me, I couldn’t stop once I started typing. The only thing that kept it from turning into a full-blown first draft of a short story was a severe restriction …
Short story in the first-person, omniscient, future tense. Trees sing a song of destruction.
Here’s a new quiction piece, prompted by @TheGhostGoat on Twitter. “777 words on the phrase “somebody that I used to know”.” was the challenge. Here’s 777 words, on the dot, loosely related to that theme. This one leans into the furry sphere: fair warning for those who don’t hold with that sort of carry on.
A quick story composed for a challenge I set on Twitter. The prompt was for a 1,100 word story inspired by Rob Cantor’s “Shia LaBeouf” song (https://t.co/sutswHNHdM).
The hotel bar was agreeably quiet. A handful of solo drinkers occupied stools at the bar, while two couples and a group of five had staked claims to a few tables…