May 9 2010

Dialogue from the short story “Red Tape”

Below is an excerpt from a short fiction story titled “Red Tape” which I am working on for the collection Augury.

Sharing it here after having discovered @Story_Craft on Twitter this week. They host #storycraft which is a weekly chat on Sundays about the craft of writing fiction.  You can check them out here. Their May 9th, 2010 Flash Fiction Challenge, which I took upon myself to push “Red Tape” along, was as follows: Tell a story in 300-500 words of dialogue.  Tags and action description are okay, but no exposition! Wordcount: 300-500.

Thanks,

~a.q.s.

Note: It did not make the challenge because it has to be a stand alone story. But I will leave it here thanks to the comments and feedback. Much appreciated.


“He says ‘shut up’ to me.”

That’s why you are getting a divorce?”

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May 4 2010

Prisoners of Life

This is the 2nd in the series of Fluck Tuesdays.

Inspired by Oliver Fluck’s Prison Chess Portrait.

When I wrote this, I had not read or seen Oliver Fluck’s other photos on this subject. Worth checking out.


I am twenty-three years old and I am in prison. For life. Three strikes and you are out. Or should I say three strikes and you are “in”? I know. Not funny. I like to crack jokes even when I know they are probably not funny. In my experience there is bound to be that one person that finds humor in something not funny. I like one-in-a-given-number statistics. Isn’t that what life is? Chances. Choice is two letters away from Chance. Don’t worry, I am not about to go all deep on you. I don’t read that much in here like they always portray us doing.

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Apr 27 2010

A Reflection from the Shore

This is the 1st in the series of Fluck Tuesdays.

Inspired by Oliver Fluck’s photo: Salton Sea Arm Chair.


A Reflection from the Shore

Oceans are not as blue as they appear in pictures, Emilie Goldstein thought to herself, as she looked at the loud waves reflect the ashy overcast sky.

At the bony age of sixty-five Emilie Goldstein considered herself, and made an effort to be perceived as, an “attractive woman for her age.” She justified her demeanor which barely bypassed the edge of narcissism due to all that she felt proud to have endured physically and accomplished professionally. Wearing Chanel’s bright fire-engine-red lipstick shade, which appeared abnormally bright against her pale skin matted on her wrinkled mouth, made her feel put together and powerful. She had read in a women’s magazine once that only the most confident of the professional women wore red.
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