Sunday, 19 April 2020

19/04/2020: Rite of Passage (Part 1)

Yestermorning proved a little treat for us. King had summoned us and finally told us what we'd all been relishing: a chance for fame, and a chance for glory. Well, at least that's what I'm relishing. I have no idea what the motivations of the others are, but we all have something in common: we all want to become blood hunters.

I know that the art of blood magic is dangerous and dark, and I know that it can also be a really powerful tool, but honestly, that's not why I wanted to become a blood hunter. To be honest, I kind of just stumbled into this Blood Hunter training stronghold when I following King (that's... his name, he's not actually a king, although he'd jump at any chance to become one). King was... interesting. He was really different. He had the look of danger and evil, and yet he was extremely passionate. I soon came to find out what he was passionate about: blood magic. People who embrace blood magic are crazy fanatics, willing to sacrifice their own life force to harness it. It's an old, old magic, long forgotten by many. When I heard about it, my curiosity piqued. The world, after all, is in need of bold, new action. And sometimes, boldness comes in reviving something old. If I, a simple bard, could harness the power of blood magic, my name would be uttered all throughout the lands...

And that was enough to send me away from our stronghold in Scorchwood, on a quest that King sent us on: the quest that would determine if we would ever be able to harness the power of blood magic.

It seemed simple enough: travel to Duskvale and capture or kill the vile creatures that have been tormenting travellers and villagers alike. It seemed simple, but King warned us: this was our Rite of Passage to becoming Blood Hunters; we either complete it, or, we die...

Regardless of these ominous bodings, a group of us set off.

I'm used to this company, since we have trained together for the past few months under King. Though, I don't know too much about them. There's Kal'Dur, a dwarf cleric who was abandoned as a child, and owes his life to the priest who took him under his wings. He shared my horse on the eight hour journey to Duskvale, and made good company.

When we reached Duskvale just after high noon, myself and the dwarf were starving. We looked around for market stalls to buy food, but the town was deserted. Market stalls were overturned, tents abandoned, and houses were shuttered up. These villagers were being haunted and tormented... by a creature that we had to kill. It seemed grim.

We met with a villager, who had told us that there were horrific howlings in the nighttime after sundown, and shortly before midnight, villagers and travelers would disappear. They had lost around 7 people, just in the last few nights.

The villager introduced us to Duskvale's mayor, Tika. She was cute, and had a way with the men in my party. Mr Monk, who I swore had taken a vow of silence, actually spoke up to greet her. The dwarf was drooling beside me.

Tika told us that a hunter in the village had seen huge, jet black beasts before being dragged off into the outskirts of the town square. Upon hearing that we were there to help, Tika provided us with food, and the dwarf and I inhaled it.

Meanwhile, Elyon, who had been raised by wolves as a youngling, scouted the area and found a series of tracks indicating great traffic in one of the town's entrances. The tracks showed several human and canine footprints, the canine ones being larger than a wolf's.

The group decided we should make a trap. If we had any chance of saving these villagers, we'd need to be prepared. I looked around for help, and noticed that Fredrickson, the self-proclaimed holy and noble knight who's sole desire was to save the kingdom, was fast asleep.

So I gathered some wood, and Elyon lent me some of her rope. My plan was to build a simple trigger trap, one like I had built many a time for small rabbits. I was having trouble though, as I had never built a trap for anything this large before, and Elyon stepped in and helped me set it up. By the time we finished, it was getting closer to sundown; the creatures would be coming shortly.

Kal, the dwarf, volunteered to be bait, and Mr Monk hid himself next to the trap for prime location. Nearby were Fredrickson, Elyon, Tika, and Miranda. I don't know much about Miranda, except that she's a human sorceress with a Draconian lineage.

I stayed at the back, ready to cast spells from a safe distance - after all, I'm no fighter, I let the pros handle that sort of thing.

Sundown. I thought the houses were already shuttered, but we could hear the slams and clicks of doors being locked throughout the village. Then... silence.

For a brief moment, a clear moon broke through the clouds, casting an ominous glow on the party. Then, back to darkness.

We waited for a while. Hours.

Then, just before midnight: howling.

A soft sound carried through the gentle night winds: we could hear rattling of chains growing louder and louder, accompanied by soft footfalls from beyond the town's edge.

My heart was pounding, for a few moments I was certain that these creatures would hear my heartbeat. Then, SNAP!

The moon broke through the clouds again, shedding light on our enemies. I could see them: three charnel hounds, on chains held by three cultists. One of the cultists was stuck in Elyon's trap. The hounds looked like beasts raised from the fires of Hell itself. Their figures waved around, almost like their skin were made of smoke. They gnashed their sharp teeth, and ravaged the grounds with their sharp claws. They were huge; each looked like living boulders hungry for their next meal. Gee was I glad I was hanging in the back.

Before I knew it, all three hounds attacked: one at Fredrickson, one at Kal, and the other at Miranda. They were all bitten, and bleeding. It was looking bad.

Suddenly, I heard a twang in the dark, and a loud howling whimper. Elyon must have shot one with her longbow. Meanwhile, Fredrickson was struggling to fight his hound. His sword was far too long and heavy for him to manouvre in close combat. Spells were being thrown here and there, shots were fired, and I added a sleep spell into the mix. Two of the cultists and one of the hounds dropped to the ground.

Sometime during this, I saw that Miranda had managed to kill the cultist and the hound that were on her back, but she was badly injured.

Kal tried to feed one of the hounds. It ate the food, but not without having a snip at poor Kal's fingers.

Luckily, Kal was able to heal himself. After a few more blows from Monk, Frederickson, Elyon, and Tika, the hound and the cultist that were asleep from my spell, perished.

We were down to just one trapped harmless cultist, and one hound.

Kal's naive wishful thinking gave me an idea, and I whipped out my trusty pan flute and started playing a melody I always played for my horse.

The melody made the hound pause in its tracks, and Kal reached out a hand to pet it. This time, it didn't bite. It sat its hind legs down, propped up its ears, and wagged its tail. We had tamed him!

We celebrated! It was an hour past midnight, and we were in dire need of some sleep, but first, we needed answers.

Fredrickson was the first to get up in the cultist's face and ask him who the hell he was and what the hell he was doing. The cultist was a shameful excuse for a fighter; he actually pissed his pants and begged for us to let him go back to his family. This seemed to set off a nerve in the Monk, who proceeded to kick in his kneecaps. Who knew Monks could be so violent, hey?

Kal, playing good cop, healed the cultist, who reiterated that he was just a new member of the cult. Upon further questioning, the cultist said that he served the Thief of Shadows, his job was to collect sacrifices for the Dark Mistress. He told us that if we went East towards the Old Quarry, we would be met with simply 2 guards. Inside the quarry cave, we would find prisoners inside, but they often didn't stay alive for any more than 2 days. The hounds, one of them now my pet, were demons that they controlled to collect the sacrifices.

We had heard enough. Tika locked the cultist in jail, and offered us lodgings for the night.

When we awake, we ride into the Quarry, find this Dark Mistress, and defeat her. Thus, we will complete our Rite of Passage.

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Word Count: 1530 words

Comment: This is a summary of the first half of a Dungeons and Dragons game that Scott created for a group of us. I thought I would take the opportunity to use ths game as a writing prompt for myself to write from the point of view of the character I played, Arvyal Duskmire, a half-elf bard. I had fun with the game, and fun with writing up these notes.

List of characters (and their players) in alphabetical order:

  • Arvyal Duskmire (Chloe)
  • Elyon-Hoshi Estresal (Dyan)
  • Fredrickson (Colin)
  • Kal'Dur (John)
  • Miranda Mordred (Emma)
  • Mr Monk (LJay)
Dungeon Master: Scott

Monday, 6 April 2020

05/04/2020: Gary and The Ladybug

Prompt:

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It started on a day much like today: fine, sunny, warm but not too warm, you get the idea. Just think of your perfect day, and that was what it was like. I didn't think anything unusual was going to happen. I mean, why would I? Nobody wakes up and thinks, "Today is the day where the rest of my life changes." And yet, change, it did.

What was I doing? Well I can remember the moment, but anything before that - it's blank. Like I said, it was a normal day. Why would I remember it? I probably woke up, had my morning cup of coffee, took a dump, made my breakfast, then ate it on the lawn. That's what I always do on my weekends: lay on my grass, stare up at the sun, and eat my breakfast. Some might say that the feeling of true freedom laying shirtless on the grass is not worth the terrible rash I develop on my back the next day, but I disagree. Some might say I should just put on a shirt, but again, I disagree.

It was definitely a weekend because the thing happened when I was laying on the grass.

The thing that happened was so unexpected that later I went back into the kitchen, checked my brown paper bag of mushrooms, checked the back of my pantry for my bag of magic mushrooms, and made sure I didn't accidentally mix them up when I made my omelette that morning. I knew I didn't because the magic ones still had tape over them - I hadn't opened them yet. So what I saw wasn't a figment of my imaginaton. What does that word mean, anyway? Figment? Does anyone ever use that word outside of "figment of my imagination"? Why can't people just say "imagination" then? It sounds like a weird mix between fig, and mints... it sounds delicious.

Anyway.

There I was, lying down, soaking up the sun, minding my own business. Then I heard a strange voice. It sounded very... well it sounded ridiculous if I'm being honest. It was all high-pitched, squeaky, and really really soft. Like reeeeeeeeeeally soft. If I wasn't laying on the ground, I wouldn't have been able to hear it.

The voice was saying, "Excuse me! Can you please help me! Please! For the love of God, please help me!"

I sat up immediately. I remember my plate with the omelette was on my chest, and when I sat up it spilled all over my boxers. I reckoned it was still clean, so I just pushed it back on my plate. But I couldn't hear the voice anymore. And I looked around and there was no one! Absolutely no one. I thought I must have dozed off into a microsleep and was dreaming something funny.

So I lay back down, and I heard the voice again! "Excuse me!" it was saying, almost like it was screaming. But again, the voice was reaaaaaaally soft.

I lifted my head slightly and the voice said, "Don't sit up! I'm on the ground! You won't be able to hear me!"

So I lay my head back down, and turned to my side.

"Yeah, over here please!"

I saw this strange ladybug... I mean it didn't look strange per se, it just looked like a regular ladybug. You know... it was round... dotty... red... I'm sure you know what a ladybug looks like I don't need to describe it to you!

Anyway. What was strange about it wasn't what it looked like, but what it was doing... it looked like it was jumping... if ladybugs can actually do that. Maybe it was just flying up and down really quickly.

But this was definitely where the voice was coming from. Ladybugs don't usually fly like that.

Anyway, I seriously thought I was high. So I asked the ladybug, "Am I high right now? Did I put those magic shrooms in this omelette?"

It told me I wasn't high. But I thought... isn't that what a figment of my imagination might tell me???

Anyway, I won't get too philosophical, but basically this ladybug tells me, "My name is Walter. I'm a human! Well, I was a human. I was actually a human for the majority of my life! Until I was 93 years old! I lived a long, long life, and I was ready to go! But I don't know what happened, I must have died and been reincarnated into an insect!"

"A ladybug," I said, hoping to clear things up with him in case he didn't know what type of insect. I like being helpful, after all.

"Yes, a ladybug," Walter replied. "I don't know what happened, I don't know if I've been cursed or something, but please, put me out of my misery. I'm ready to go, honestly, I am. I was ready a whole week before I actually died. I mean, died as a human."

"Are you telling me you want me to kill you?" I asked.

Walter told me to lower my voice - it was really loud for his tiny ears.

"I'm sorry," I lowered my voice to just above a whisper, "Are you telling me you want me to kill you?"

"Yes, please. Just put me out of my misery."

Now, if you know me - which, I realise you don't, but let me tell you. Anyone who knows me knows I can't kill things! I hate chopping up chicken that's already dead! It just seems so cruel! I just buy it cut up already, I mean I'm not gonna let chopping get in the way of my delicious fried chicken... I'm awfully scared of spiders too, but I never kill them, I just sort of awkwardly shoo at them until they leave through any of the open doors. I told Walter this.

"Honestly, I'm telling you, I'm the last person you could ask to kill an insect!"

"Please, son. Don't think of it as killing me. Think of it as... as... giving me a gift! A gift of... of peace! Yes, you'll be giving me peace! Isn't that the best thing you could hope to do as an animal lover? Give me peace?"

"Well... I guess when you put it like that, Walter. I guess you could call me some sort of a hero, huh? Facing my fears and sacrificing my values for your benefit. I guess I could do it."

"Excellent! Oh thank you so much!" He said to me.

Well, to cut a long story short, we did it. I stood up and moved to the paved part of my backyard, he flew down to the ground, and waited for me.

But oh, it's not like I'm that horrible. I made sure to bend down and ask him, "Any last words before we do this?"

All Walter said was: "Thank you."

I lifted my foot in the air... and killed him.

---------------------------------------------------------

But! He wasn't dead! Well, I mean, he actually was dead, I definitely squashed him under my foot - I should have actually put on some sandals or something 'cause I had to wash poor Walter's squished body off my foot and that made me feel horrible.

But anyway, he actually came back the next day! As a different ladybug! I don't know what it is with this guy, but he keeps coming back as a ladybug! I've been killing him day after day after day! Well, actually it's more like week after week, because he only visits me on the weekends when I'm laying on the grass.

I kill this guy week after week after week! And he never dies! Never!

Anyway, what's the time now anyway? Ugh, he's so late today! Usually he would be here by now! That's why I'm stuck sitting here telling you this story, Mister Butterfly!

---------------------------------------------------------

I look down at the butterfly that landed on my toe while I was waiting for Walter to emerge. It didn't know what I was saying. It just kept fluttering around and landing on different toes. I missed Walter.

Suddenly, the thought popped into my head: maybe this was it. Maybe it worked this time. Maybe Walter was actually de-

"Hello again, dear boy." I hear a high pitched, tiny voice near my right ear. Walter now flies up to my ear to talk - since I know it's him, I won't swat at him.

"Oh! Walter! I was just thinking you maybe... weren't going to be here today..."

"Oh, no, I just had a run in with a spider... had to dodge it."

"Walter, I've told you before, why don't you just let yourself die naturally? Maybe that'll do it for you."

"I don't know," Walter said, "What if it doesn't work and I come back as something worse? Like a snail? It'd take me years to get to you if I were a snail!"

"Great point, Walter. Snails suck. What are they good for anyway? Nothing except leaving weird sex slime all over the ground. Oh, hey, I visited your grave the other day! It's got flowers and everything!"

"Really?" Walter said. "Fresh flowers? Well, what day is it, son?"

"It's the 5th of April, sir."

"5th of April! Wow, it's my birthday! I would be 94 right now! My darling wife or my dear daughters must have left those flowers for me. Wow, I'm a lucky guy."

"Hey, I have an idea!" I jumped up, Walter staying on my ear. "Why don't we go there now, and you can see for yourself? Before I kill you at least."

"Wow, that would be an excellent idea, son. Let's go! Oooh, by the way, how did that date go?"

"It went well! I actually really like her. I asked her out on a second date, and we're going for dinner on Tuesday. Thanks for asking, I haven't actually spoken to too many people about her."

As we get into my car, Walter flies away from my ear, and plops himself onto my dashboard.

"Oh, it's the highlight of my lives now, son, to catch up with you."


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Word Count: 1665 words

Comment: I found this prompt via the instagram account @writing.prompt.s. When I first read it, it seemed like a ridiculous prompt, and so I made it a ridiculous story with some ridiculous characters. It was a silly little writing experiment, and I had fun with it.

Friday, 3 April 2020

23/03/2020: Christmas Closure

Prompt: Write a story told entirely through text messages or emails.

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From: Stacey Kline [reception@stevenandsonscompany.com.au]
Sent: Monday, 16 December 2019, 10:07am
To: All Employees mailing list [list.employees@stevenandsonscompany.com.au]
Subject: Housekeeping before Christmas Closure

Hi All,
Prior to our office Christmas closure this Friday 20th, please ensure you attend to any housekeeping as necessary, listed below:
  • Automatic replies: please ensure you have turned automatic replies on informing clients we will be opening our office again on Monday 6th January in the new year. If you have a company-issued phone, please make sure you change your voicemail as well.
  • Confidential information: please make sure that all confidential documents are locked away in the filing cabinets. You are meant to be doing this every day anyway, but please make sure it is done over the break.
  • Computers: Please remember to log off and shut down your computers over the break
  • Food in fridge: Please remove any food you have left in the fridge. Anything that isn't removed by Friday 4pm will be thrown in the bin, unless its expiry is after the 6th of January. Also please take home your tupperware, there is a stack of empty tupperware on the counter!!!
  • Desks and floor space: Please clean/tidy these as much as possible as we will be having the cleaners come in Friday 5pm to do a deep clean of the carpets/windows/desks, etc.
If you have approved leave prior to this Friday, please make sure these are attended to on your last day in the office.

Kind regards,

Stacey Kline
Receptionist
Steven and Sons

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From: Darren Sturgis [darren.sturgis@stevenandsonscompany.com.au]
Sent: Monday December 16, 2019, 10:42am
To: Liam McKinsey [liam.mckinsey@stevenandsonscompany.com.au]; Liam McKinsey [liam_mckinsey117@hotmail.com]
Subject: FW: Housekeeping before Christmas Closure

Hi Liam,
Just checking in and seeing how you've been doing?
I tried calling you a few times but couldn't get through. I understand if you don't feel like talking, that's okay. Just let me know if there's anything I need to do around the office for you? If there's any food or anything in the fridge I can pass it to you, or if you have anything at your desk I'm happy to grab it for you.
Take care of yourself buddy.

Cheers, Darren.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
From: Darren Sturgis [darren.sturgis@stevenandsonscompany.com.au]
Sent: Monday December 16, 2019, 10:45am
To: Stacey Kline [reception@stevenandsonscompany.com.au]
Subject: FW: FW: Housekeeping before Christmas Closure
! This message was sent with High Importance.
! This message has been marked as Confidential.

Hi Stacey,
Just letting you know I have emailed Liam (both his work and personal emails). If he calls back or if he comes into the office can you let me know. Even if I am in a meeting let me know.

Cheers, Darren.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
From: Darren Sturgis [darren.sturgis@stevenandsonscompany.com.au]
Sent: Tuesday December 17, 2019, 4:11pm
To: Markus Mallory [markus.mallory@stevenandsonscompany.com.au]; Judith Sweenie [judith.sweenie@stevenandsonscompany.com.au]; Bosco Trellick [bosco.trellick@stevenandsonscompany.com.au]
CC: Stacey Kline [reception@stevenandsonscompany.com.au]
Subject: Liam
! This message was sent with High Importance.
! This message has been marked as Confidential.

Hi team, 
Just wondering if any of you have heard from Liam lately?
I tried calling him and emailing him (both work and personal emails) but no response.

Cheers, Darren.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
From: Judith Sweenie [judith.sweenie@stevenandsonscompany.com.au] 
Sent: Tuesday December 17, 2019, 4:13pm
To: Darren Sturgis [darren.sturgis@stevenandsonscompany.com.au]
CC: Markus Mallory [markus.mallory@stevenandsonscompany.com.au]; Bosco Trellick [bosco.trellick@stevenandsonscompany.com.au]; Stacey Kline [reception@stevenandsonscompany.com.au]
Subject: RE: Liam

Hi Darren,
His last email to me was at the end of November when he told me the date of the funeral and that he would be taking some time off.

Kind regards,

Judith Sweenie
Human Resources
Steven and Sons

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From: Markus Mallory [markus.mallory@stevenandsonscompany.com.au] 
Sent: Tuesday December 17, 2019, 4:24pm
To: Darren Sturgis [darren.sturgis@stevenandsonscompany.com.au]
CC:  Judith Sweenie [judith.sweenie@stevenandsonscompany.com.au]; Bosco Trellick [bosco.trellick@stevenandsonscompany.com.au]; Stacey Kline [reception@stevenandsonscompany.com.au]
Subject: RE: RE: Liam

I went to the funeral but he hasn't replied to my messages since.

Kind regards, 

Markus Mallory
Site Manager
Steven and Sons

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From: Bosco Trellick [bosco.trellick@stevenandsonscompany.com.au] 
Sent: Tuesday December 17, 2019, 4:30pm
To: Darren Sturgis [darren.sturgis@stevenandsonscompany.com.au]
CC:  Markus Mallory [markus.mallory@stevenandsonscompany.com.au]; Judith Sweenie [judith.sweenie@stevenandsonscompany.com.au] ; Stacey Kline [reception@stevenandsonscompany.com.au]
Subject: RE: RE: RE: Liam

Nah mate, haven't heard from him sorry.

Kind regards,
Bosco Trellick
Steven and Sons

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From: Liam McKinsey [liam_mckinsey117@hotmail.com] 
Sent: Wednesday December 18, 2019, 3:26pm
To: Darren Sturgis [darren.sturgis@stevenandsonscompany.com.au]
Subject: RE: FW: Housekeeping before Christmas Closure

Hi Darren,
Sorry I haven't been checking my work emails and can't have it in me to answer the phone at the moment.
There's some things I need to put away - can I come in to the office at night after everyone's left? Around 6pm?
Thanks.

Liam.

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From: Darren Sturgis [darren.sturgis@stevenandsonscompany.com.au]
Sent: Wednesday December 16, 2019, 4:02pm
To: Liam McKinsey [liam_mckinsey117@hotmail.com]
Subject: RE: RE: FW: Housekeeping before Christmas Closure

Hi Liam,
It's great to hear from you buddy.
Of course, you're more than welcome to come in after hours, I completely understand.

Cheers, Darren.

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From: Liam McKinsey [liam_mckinsey117@hotmail.com] 
Sent: Saturday December 21, 2019, 2:51am
To: Darren Sturgis [darren.sturgis@stevenandsonscompany.com.au]
Subject: Christmas

Hi Darren,
I just wanted to apologise for what I said to you on Wednesday.
Firstly, I really appreciate that you stayed back after hours to chat with me. I know you didn't actually have any overtime work to do, and you were just staying back for me. I wasn't expecting it and I was a bit taken aback, I really wasn't expecting to talk to anyone that night. So I apologise for getting a bit short with you when you asked me to join your family for Christmas.
Truth is, I think I would need a distraction so I would love to join your family for Christmas, if the offer is still open.
Thanks again.

Liam.

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From: Darren Sturgis [darren.sturgis@stevenandsonscompany.com.au]
Sent: Saturday December 21, 2019, 2:51am
To: Liam McKinsey [liam_mckinsey117@hotmail.com]
Subject: Automatic reply

Thank you for your email. Steven and Sons are currently closed over the Christmas break and we will return on Monday the 6th of January, 2020 to respond to your email.
In the meantime, Happy Holidays and have a Happy New Year!

Darren Sturgis
Managing Director
Steven and Sons

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
From: Darren Sturgis [darren.sturgis@stevenandsonscompany.com.au]
Sent: Saturday December 21, 2019, 9:02am
To: Liam McKinsey [liam_mckinsey117@hotmail.com]
Subject: RE: Christmas

Hi Liam,
I am so happy to hear that you will be joining the Surgises for Christmas this year!
I completely understand how you were feeling - I apologise for ambushing you that day. Please know that I see you (and everyone else on our team) as family, and I care for you all deeply. As I said on Wednesday, the others care about you as well, and we all just want to help wherever we can.
Looking forward to seeing you on Christmas then! No need to bring anything - Lucy makes the meanest Christmas ham and smashed pav!

Cheers, Darren.

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From: Darren Sturgis [darren.sturgis@stevenandsonscompany.com.au]
Sent: Thursday December 26, 2019, 11:34am
To: Liam McKinsey [liam_mckinsey117@hotmail.com]
Subject: Christmas photos

Hi Liam,
Hope you had a blast yesterday, we all sure did!
I've attached some photos that Lucy took from yesterday, hope you enjoy them!
Keep in touch mate, let me know if you want to do something for New Year's. Remember - you're part of the Sturgis family now!

Cheers, Darren.

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Word count: 1185 (but it would actually be much less because of the email format)

Comment: This was one of my submissions to the weekly Reedsy Prompts contest. I didn't win, but I was shortlisted for it! Which is insane because I didn't even think it was that good! I think when I first started this I wanted to go really in depth in terms of what people would say in their emails - you know, real heartfelt, emotional stuff. But then I realised that nobody realistically talks like that, especially over email. So I left a lot of things unsaid, because most of the story happens outside of the email chain. In the end, I wasn't super happy with this, I just did it because it was an interesting concept and format, but apparently it was good enough to be shortlisted!

Also, if you would like to see my Reedsy profile and all my submissions, click here

Monday, 30 March 2020

30/03/2020: Dialogue writing exercise

Reedsy, the website where I'm getting a lot of my writing prompts from, has some really great free 10-day writing courses that you can sign up to. So far I've really enjoyed the 'Understanding Point of View' one, and I'm currently signed up to 'Writing Dialogue That Develops Plot and Character'. 

Each lesson has a writing task/homework for you, and I don't usually do them but thought I might try it out on this one.

Prompt:
Imagine this scenario: Jenna and Alice receive news about their friend Hannah, putting their holiday plans on hold. Write a brief extract of dialogue between the first two friends. First, write it as an info dump deliberately. Make them share information they both already know about Hannah’s situation.

Then rewrite the same exchange four times:

  • Once as an argument. 
  • Next, as fact-comparing dialogue. 
  • Thirdly, make one character not know the bad news. 
  • Lastly, rewrite the plot exposition as narration, not dialogue.
So, here goes:

---------------------------------------------------------

1) Info dump:

"As you know, Jenna, Hannah's gotten into a car accident, and since it looks like she's at fault, she needs to pay for the damages to the other guy's car. She doesn't have much money, so she won't have enough for the holiday we're planning. I think we might have to cancel." Alice said, clearly upset.

"Yeah, it's really annoying, Alice. And I don't think there's any way we can go just the two of us. After all, our budget was really tight even when we were splitting the accommodation between the three of us. Unless we go to a cheaper place like a hostel or something..."

"But Jenna, Hannah's really upset right now. We've already had some big fights with her, and if we go without her, she might never want to be friends with us again..." Alice replied.

---------------------------------------------------------

2) As an argument:

"I can't believe Hannah's ruining our holiday, God she's so annoying!" Jenna threw herself onto the lounge and crossed her arms tightly.

"Hey, don't be mean!" Alice snapped back. "It wasn't even her fault!"

"Yes it was! She got herself into a car accident, and now she can't pay for the trip - the trip that we've been trying to plan for MONTHS. And because she can't pay, we can't even go! That's so unfair, Alice, can't you see?"

"No, it wasn't her fault! That guy reversed into her, but since it looks like she rear-ended him, that's why she has to pay for the damages. You're being SO insensitive Jenna - imagine how she feels, having to pay for something that's not her fault, and not being able to go on holiday for it, and making us not go?"

"Ugh, well why shouldn't we go? We should just go without her."

"Jenna, don't be like that. You know that it'd be rude to do that to her. And anyway, we'd have to split the accommodation between just the two of us, and we don't have enough money for that - our budget was tight enough splitting between three."

"Yeah, well we could just find a cheaper place to stay. I don't care if Hannah gets upset about it. We've had so many fights, that even if she doesn't want to be friends with us anymore after this, I'll be happy."

"You're horrible, Jenna."

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3) As fact-comparing dialogue:

"Hey, did you hear anything new from Hannah?" Jenna asked Alice.

"Hmm, the last thing she told me was that she has to pay for the other guy's car repairs." Alice replied.

"What? She told me she wasn't at fault!"

"She wasn't! The guy reversed into her, but there were no witnesses so it looks like she rear-ended him, which means she's supposedly at fault."

"Damn, that sucks. Well, I was gonna ask if we could all do a call together to discuss the holiday plans. Do you think she'd be too upset to do that?"

"Well..."

"What?" Jenna's stomach flipped at the look on Alice's face.

"Well... I think she won't have enough money to go on the trip anymore... so we might have to call it off..."

"WHAT? Are you kidding me? We've been planning for months! And we can't just go without her?"

"You know how she'd feel about that, she's already upset enough as is..." Alice looked off into the distance.

"Yeah, and we've been fighting a lot lately... if we do that she probably wouldn't even talk to us anymore!"

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4) One character does not know the bad news:

"Hey Jenna, have you heard about Hannah?"

"No, what happened?" Something about Alice's tone made Jenna think that bad news was coming.

"She got into a car accident."

"What? Is... is she okay? What happened?"

"Yeah, she's fine. Someone reversed into her in a car park, but it looks like she rear-ended him. There's no witnesses so he's blaming her, and she has to pay for the damages." Alice sighed and sat back.

"God... how bad is it?"

"Bad enough that she won't have enough money for the trip," Alice replied.

"What? Are you serious? Shit. And there's no chance of us just going without her, I'm guessing?"

Alice laughed. "You seriously think that's gonna go down well with her? Especially after all those fights we've been having lately?"

"Ughhhh, but this holiday has taken us MONTHS to plan. It'd be selfish of her to tell us not to go just because she can't afford it. I mean, we'd probably have to look for somewhere cheaper to stay, but we could still make it work."

"Jenna, if we go, she probably won't ever talk to us again."

"I'm fine with that!"

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5) Narration, not dialogue:

Jenna and Alice were frantic. They knew Hannah wasn't at fault, but they couldn't help but feel resentment at the fact that her car accident was endangering their trip. They both secretly wanted to continue as planned, knowing that they'd have to find an alternative, and cheaper, accommodation. But at the same time they knew that this would hurt Hannah's feelings, and she might never forgive them for leaving her behind.

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Comment: I think this was a fun little challenge; it helped me think about how I want to actually write dialogue. The first challenge is meant to be the easiest, but it was actually kind of hard to write because it felt horrible. Although, that was the point of this exercise: to show you that info dumps through dialogue are never a good idea - they just don't seem realistic enough. It was interesting coming up with conflict for the second challenge, and I actually found the last challenge really difficult because I felt like you lost a lot of personal details and characterisation by limiting it to pure narration. I'd recommend this exercise to anyone who's not sure what the best way of writing dialogue is for their next plot point.

Friday, 20 March 2020

13/03/2020: When dreams are vivid, and real.

First Prompt: Write about someone who can pause time or relive old memories at will.

Second Prompt: Start with "If you really want to hear about it,"


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"If you really want to hear about it, I dreamt I was with her... again. I lay my head on the pillow and closed my eyes, and suddenly she was right before me. It was our first date. She wore a pink blouse and blue skinny jeans. I could always remember what clothes she wore, so this wasn't new to me. But when I saw her last night, she was wearing a bracelet. I never remembered that. I had been with her for 5 years and I never remember her wearing any bracelets during that time."

"Yeah but... this is just a dream, right?" Mike, my colleague, interrupted me in between mouthfuls on our lunch break. He had asked me how I've been lately, and I told him I hadn't had a good sleep, because of a dream I had. He asked me about it. At first I hesitated; it was too personal. But I really wanted to just tell someone about the bracelet.

Mike continued, "Also, your dreams sound so... vivid! My dreams are always a messy blur; I only ever remember vague notions of what happened. Anyway, that's intense you dreamed about your first date together. How are you feeling?"

I paused.

What Mike didn't know was... I can control my dreams. In fact, they're not actually dreams because I'm not actually sleeping. I'm reliving old memories.

I do tend to only relive my memories at night though, or at least when I'm alone, because to the outsider it really does look like I'm sleeping. My eyes are closed and my body goes limp so I don't move around like I did in those memories.

I can also choose how long I want to relive the memory for. I simply concentrate on the event, tell myself how long I want to relive it for, and it happens.

Recently, I've been choosing to relive 8 hours of each memory overnight, during the time that I'd usually be sleeping.

The problem is that I'm not actually getting any sleep. I'm fully conscious the entire time, so I can get really groggy at work the next day. Mike noticed this and asked me about it today.

"I... I'm fine." I finally replied to him. I couldn't tell him that I felt guilty for never realising she wore a bracelet on our first date, and I was starting to regret ever opening up to him in the first place.

"Hey, listen, mate. You're going through a tough time, and it's not good if you're having all these vivid dreams about her, that's not gonna help at all. But you can talk to me." Mike's mouth hung open as if he was about to say more, but he quickly took another mouthful of his toasted sandwich.

I kept twirling my canned spaghetti around my fork. I haven't been cooking any meals to try and maximise the time I get to relive my moments with her. I haven't had a proper meal for a few weeks already.

Mike carried on, "So, you got any plans this weekend?" God I wish he could just stop talking and let me eat in peace.

"Nope." I replied. But of course, I did have plans: to relive some more memories.

"Well hey, I was gonna go to a local footy match with my mates, wanna come?" Mike smiled at me.

"Oh no, no thank you. I... I just need some time to myself right now." I quickly said, shoving some of that canned spaghetti into my mouth to avoid talking any more.

Besides, I never hung out with Mike. Ever. Not even... before. I knew he was just inviting me out of pity. I didn't want anyone's pity. I just wanted to be with her again.

Mike nodded silently.

I first found out I could relive old memories when I was 22. Not when I reached puberty like those mutants did in those X-Men films.

It was weird, because I was at a stage where I felt like I finally knew who I was growing up to be.

I had started a new job as a software engineer after years of studying and "soul searching". I moved out of home. I had met her, and fallen in love. I discovered I liked playing the guitar. I was starting to understand who I was becoming.

And suddenly, everything I thought I knew about myself went out the window. Suddenly, I had this weird ability to travel back in time. Although I realised I wasn't actually time travelling, because I didn't have my present day mind in my past self.

No, everything stayed the same. I relived memories and with them I relived past feelings, played out the same conversations and actions, and wasn't able to change anything.

I used to hate it because I would realise that often some fond memories, once properly relived, were actually a little skewed. Sometimes I would think about a funny thing that happened in high school, then I would relive it. Only for me to wake up cringing from how I talked as a teenager, how I styled my hair, and how many cues I missed from all the girls that were interested in me.

I rarely relived memories. And if I did, they would only be for things that happened recently, or things that I truly wanted to experience again. When she went overseas for a business trip and I was missing her. When I wanted to taste that delicious (yet expensive) dessert from that fancy fine dining restaurant. When I wanted to go back to Paris without the hefty price tag.

Apart from that, my reality was better than my memories.

"Anyway, let me know if you ever want to hang. As I said, you can talk to me." Mike stood up and placed his empty dishes in the dishwasher.

I looked at my watch and realised my entire lunch hour had passed and I'd only eaten half of the canned spaghetti.

I quickly forked the rest of my meal down into my throat. Slurping the noodles and swallowing without ever chewing.

I cleaned up, and headed back to work.

These next few hours are going to be productive, I told myself.

Well, they had to be. A productive day meant the day went quicker. It was quicker to home time, and quicker for me to relive my moments with her.

I lived for the night. I lived for the memories, and the chance to escape from reality again.

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Word count: 1088

Comment: This was my third submission to the weekly Reedsy Prompts contest. This week's theme was magical realism. I also combined this prompt with another prompt to write in the traditional first person point of view. I realised most of my writing is in first person, so I might try and change it up next time.

This story was quite fun but a bit of a slog to get started. I literally had to force myself to sit down and write, but once I started writing it was easier to keep writing. I guess that's the point of doing these writing prompts - just get something down, even if it's not a masterpiece. I liked the idea of this prompt too, and it made me wonder - if I could relive anything, would I? Or would I choose to just live my life as it is, here and now? An interesting thought.

Also, if you would like to see my Reedsy profile and all my submissions, click here

Friday, 13 March 2020

03/03/2020: Nice day for a stroll

Prompt: Write a short story about someone going to the corner store to buy an everyday item.


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I rummaged through my handbag and dug out my old sunglasses. Looking at them closely I could see all the tiny scratches and signs of wear and tear on them. I haven't used them in years, it's a wonder I never threw them out in the first place. I quickly crammed my glasses onto my face, poking the insides of my ears and tangling my hair in the process.

The difference was incredible. I no longer squinted my eyes to shield my pupils from the harsh blinding light of the sun. Everything looked clearer, and somewhat paradoxically, brighter and more vivid.

My first instinct was to gaze up at the sky. The sun was so bright that everything, ground and sky, seemed a bright white but now with these sunglasses on I could see how brilliantly blue the sky was. I took a moment to marvel at the formation of the clouds, and if I looked hard enough I could even see the greyed shadows in parts that were a bit denser than others. My eyes scanned the sky and I noticed small wisps of cloud drifting in between the larger formations. It was a fine, sunny day, and yet if I looked long enough, I could see the clouds moving, the smaller wisps moving ever so slightly faster than the larger clouds. It was as if these wisps were small children chasing after their parents, reaching out their tendrils as if wanting to hold their parents' hands.

I spent a few moments wondering how big those clouds would be. They looked small enough for me to wrap my hands around, but they were thousands of metres away. I wondered how big the sky was, and how much further beyond that you'd have to go to reach the sun, a mere dot that I could blot out with my hand. Remembering that I was heading out to buy some milk, everything suddenly seemed so very small.

I kept walking, this time a bit faster. It was easier to see where I was going without the ground reflecting the bright sunlight.

I felt the sun's warmth on my skin, and smiled at what a beautiful day it was.

I passed by a low-hanging branch, and stopped to admire its leaves. There was nothing particularly unique about these leaves, but they looked so green and bright that if the tree wasn't coming out of the ground itself, I would have thought the leaves were fake.

I reached out with my hands and touched the leaves. I could feel the smooth, glossy surface with my thumb, and the coarse, gritty underside with my index and third fingers. I closed my eyes and I could feel even more: the small specks of dirt or imperfections in the leaf, the individual veins pumping this leaf with all the nutrients it needed to maintain its deep green lustre, the jagged edges that seemed so round and perfect when I first saw the leaf.

I opened my eyes. Now I could see everything I felt: the specks of dirt, the veins, the jagged edges. It's funny how little we see with our eyes.

I looked above once more to the tree and took in a deep, slow breath as I tried to examine each leaf in turn. There were too many, but I noticed how the sunlight almost seemed to shimmer through the gaps in between the leaves, and how some leaves looked darker than others depending on how I tilted my head.

I laughed to myself at how spoilt I was. I felt a giddiness take over me and I looked around me. Everything around me screamed normality: the normal houses, with their typical lawns and ordinary trees. The sky was a standard blue sky, and the sun shone plainly through it.

Yet, this was not normal.

This was not my normal.

For years I had been living in darkness. Relying on my senses of touch, smell, and hearing to grope my way through the world. I spent years learning how things felt. I ended up forgetting what the world even looked like, and I would only get brief reminders through dreams. Or, rather, the small bits of dreams that I was lucky enough to clutch on to, when everything else vanished and was forgotten the moment of waking.

This colour was new to me. I hadn't seen colour since many years before I went blind. And even after the operation that helped me regain my sight, I had to be kept inside with the curtains shut to avoid the sun's light damaging my new retinas.

Finally, I worked up the ability to stare outside my window at our back garden without my eyes hurting too much.

Running out of milk was a convenient excuse for me to step outside.

I kept walking. I smiled at a neighbour pruning a hedge, as he lifted a gloved hand and smiled at me.

"Nice day for a stroll, hey?" He called out to me.

I let out a small laugh, and I felt my eyes strain a bit as tears started filling them up.

"It's a lovely day," I replied.

I walked past a park full of new mothers pushing their prams or playing with their children in the playground. I heard their screams of joy as they tried to run up the slide but ended up tripping over and falling down the slide instead. I saw dogs run after tennis balls, and I couldn't help but notice their wagging tails and lolling tongues. I saw joggers struggling as their sweat-drenched shirts clung to their bodies. I saw birds circling the water fountains.

I saw things I never would have noticed if I were relying on my touch, my smell, and my hearing.

I kept walking towards the shops.

I descended the flight of stairs slowly. There were only a few steps, and I knew how to walk down them if I closed my eyes, but my eyes were not used to the uniformed lines and quick depth changes, so I took it slow.

I arrived at the entrance to the corner store.

The door said "PUSH" so I pushed it open. I walked past the aisles, and saw a sign above aisle two:

"MILK
BREAD
JAMS AND SPREADS"

I walked past the breads, and I walked past the jams and spreads. At the very end of the aisle, I opened the refrigerator door and pulled out a bottle. I held it in my hand, and saw that the label clearly said:

"FULL CREAM MILK
1 LITRE"

I told myself I would never take my eyes for granted, ever again.

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Word count: 1112

Comment: This was my second submission to the weekly Reedsy Prompts contest. It was inspired by the last line of The Office, which was spoken by Pam Beasley: "There's a lot of beauty in ordinary things. Isn't that kind of the point?" In the last year or so I have noticed that I am becoming much more grateful and appreciative of ordinary life, and I wanted to express that in this story. We take a lot for granted and sometimes we just need to pause and acknowledge all the beauty around us.

Also, if you would like to see my Reedsy profile and all my submissions, click here

Sunday, 8 March 2020

23/02/2020: Mister Snuffles

Prompt: Write a story about someone who loses their cat


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Water splashed into Tori's shoes, soaking her socks.

Ugh, gross, Tori thought, pulling her left foot out of an ankle-deep puddle. She gingerly stepped her way to the side of the dark alleyway, water squelching underfoot with every step she took. Leaning against the wall, Tori pulled off her shoe, letting the water pour out.

Taking this moment to catch her breath, Tori looked around her. She was in the middle of a dark alleyway, which reeked with the rotting smell of week-old garbage radiating from the large, four-wheeled bins lining the alleyway.

She looked at her watch. It was just a few minutes to midnight; she needed to hurry.

Goddamn it, where could he be?

It was getting late, she shouldn't be out on the streets at this time of the night. But she didn't have it in her heart to give up. He's gotta be here somewhere.

She wrung out her wet sock, and crammed her foot back into her soaked shoe. Tori gazed up at the night sky, but couldn't make out the full moon. The multi-storey apartment buildings that lined the alleyway towered above her, blocking out most of the city's lights so that she could just make out a few stars through the haze of pollution, always lingering around the city.

She took a deep breath, and ran down the alley, back to the main street. Without slowing down, she rounded the corner, running straight into someone. Tori felt a sharp pain in her right ankle as her hands hit the ground. For a moment, she was frozen. She was sitting on the pavement, her legs sticking out at uncomfortable angles from underneath her, her right ankle throbbing with pain, shooting up aches through her legs, paralysing her whole body.

It felt like minutes, but Tori was probably only on the ground for a few seconds before she heard a voice above her.

"Hey! Watch werrr yih goin'!"

Tori looked up. She had ran into a homeless man, his right hand swinging around a walking stick accusingly at her. In his left hand, he carried a bottle wrapped in a brown paper bag. The man looked like a large dome towering over Tori, with all the layers he had wrapped himself in to prepare for the chilly night. It looked like he had a whole wardrobe on his back. Underneath a large woolly beanie, Tori could see the man's face. He despised her.

"I- I'm so sorry," She managed to get out.

The homeless man didn't seem to hear her though. He yelled out, "Get ofda groun' yer blockin' de way!" and started drunkenly kicking at her with his steel-capped boots. Lucky for Tori, the man seemed to have drunk most of the bottle he was carrying, and some of his kicks blindly fell through the air. Some of them, though, landed straight into Tori's chest. She wheezed as the air was knocked out of her lungs, and used her hands and her left leg to quickly shuffle backwards away from the drunken man.

She didn't have much more to worry about, though; the man seemed to get bored of kicking the air, and he spat at the ground in front of her before turning away, stumbling drunkenly down the street.

Tori let out a big sigh. She definitely shouldn't be on the streets this late at night. It was time to go home. She would take the day off tomorrow and continue her search.

Her chest and her ankle throbbed as she slowly stood up. She rubbed her chest, almost certain there would be a huge boot-sized bruise there when she woke up the next morning. At least the homeless man hadn't broken her rib cage. She couldn't say the same for her right ankle, though. She looked down as a sharp pain shot up her leg every time she tried to shift her weight onto that foot.

She limped back in the direction of her apartment.

"Great, just great," she muttered to herself, left shoe still squelching as right foot ached.

She had been limping back to her apartment block for almost 20 minutes when she saw a weird light emanating from one of the alleyways in front of her. The light was a swirl of neon green and purple, and it pulsed as if alive with a heartbeat.

This alleyway was just two blocks from her apartment, and she had never seen this kind of thing happen here before. Or anywhere, rather.

Her curiosity piqued, Tori limped quicker towards this alleyway. As she got closer, the light became brighter, and pulsed even quicker.

She stopped right in front of the alleyway, and was showered in a sea of swirling purple and green light. Immediately, she held up both hands to shield her eyes from the blinding light. Through her fingers, she saw a silhouette standing in the middle of the bright light. He was shaped like a large dome, reminding Tori of the homeless man she had run into earlier.

She could hear the man muttering to himself.

Perhaps he's insane, Tori thought to herself. But that wouldn't explain what this strange light was. She wasn't insane, was she? Yet she could see this bizarre light show.

She listened carefully and realised that she wasn't hearing the mutterings of a lunatic, there was a distinct rhythm and pattern to his mutterings. They rose and fell as the light pulsed around her. He was chanting.

I better get out of here, I shouldn't be out in the streets this late at night, Tori quickly turned to go before the man could see her, but before she even took her first step, the light stopped.

Darkness washed over her. Even the light from the streetlamps and the full moon above seemed a dull grey compared to what had just emitted from the alleyway.

Tori paused in her tracks, her eyes set on her apartment, her back half turned away from the alleyway. She was hoping the man could still not see her.

But, it turns out, he could.

"Victoria Paisley," he called out, as if his voice was amplified by speakers surrounding Tori's head, "known to her family as Vicky, and to her friends as Tori (as an act of rebellion against her parents' nickname), in search of her tabby cat Agent Felix, known to his master as Mister Snuffles, brown-grey in colour, with black stripes, who, at half-past nine this evening, left their apartment unit 14, number 53 Hunter Street, in the east vicinity of Shelbytown. Current afflictions: fractured ankle, bruised chest, light-induced migraine, and mild abrasion to the left knee."

Tori dropped a hand to feel her left knee. Sure enough, there was a patch of skin that had been rubbed off, probably when she fell after bumping into that homeless man. It didn't even hurt, she barely noticed it.

"I am so very glad," the man continued, "that you decided to stop by and pay a visit. Although... it is unwise to be out on the streets at this time of night."

Tori slowly turned around, her chest and ankle aching as she did so.

"Wha-, did you jus-, what, did you say that-, how did you-" she was, quite understandably, lost for words.

The man waved his hand at her nonchalantly.

"Please, questions later. For now, let me look at your injuries. Come towards me, away from the main street."

Tori turned her head and eyed her apartment, two blocks away. If she hadn't've rolled her ankle - or fractured as this man said, she could have made a run for it.

"It's okay, you can trust me." The man said, as if reading her thoughts. She had no other choice.

Tori limped forward, eyeing this man that seemed to know everything about her and Mister Snuffles - did he say that Mister Snuffles' name was Agent Felix??? There's no way this guy was right in the head, how could Mister Snuffles be Agent Felix? I have to get out of here, this guy's not right in the head. But how did he know my-

Tori had not noticed that as she limped towards the man, the man had started to approach her. He had reached her quickly, picked her up by her arms, and flung her towards the back of the alley.

Her body was sore all over as it collided into the cold, hard, wet pavement.

"Hey, what the hell-"

The man crouched above her. Tori tried to scramble away from him but he was too quick; in a swift, karate-chop motion, he hit his hand across the bridge of her nose.

A sharp, searing pain spread from the bridge of her nose through to the back of her head. The inside of her skull seemed to be on fire, and Tori was momentarily blinded by an intense pain.

Within seconds of recovering her vision, Tori felt the wind knocked out of her lungs for the second time that night; the man had dug the heel of his palm deep into her chest. He held it there as Tori struggled for breath. She gasped but no air passed through her mouth. The edges of her vision started to fade to black as she choked on nothingness.

He finally lifted his hand off her chest and Tori gasped for air. She turned to rest on her right arm, choking on the feeling of her lungs filling up.

Then the man stood up, a big dome towering above her. Tori was reminded of the moment the homeless man started kicking her. She automatically lifted her left hand to protect her face. She knew she couldn't fight back, or block any of his blows, but it was an automatic reaction.

The man lifted his knee up towards his chest, and brought it down on Tori's fractured ankle.

She gave a great yell as she was once again paralysed in sheer pain. She heard a distinct crack, and her foot went numb as the rest of her body felt like daggers had come out from under her skin.

Time stood still for a moment, before Tori found herself leaning on her hands, her mouth agape, drool dribbling down onto the ground below her. Her body was throbbing all over. As if she had forgotten to breathe for the last few moments, she sharply inhaled a lung full of air. Her breathing was rapid, and she realised she was crying, her tears mixing in with the rain that had pooled in between the pebbles in the ground.

"I know it hurts now," a voice above her said, calmly.

She looked up. It was the man. She had forgotten he was there.

"...But by the time I leave this alleyway, you won't feel a thing." He turned and began to walk out of the alley.

"Wait!" Tori called out to the man, reaching her hand out as if she could catch him, but he continued towards the main street. "Please!" Tori continued, "Please! Who are you? How do you know me? How do you know about my cat?"

"Oh, don't worry about the cat," the man kept continuing down the alleyway, yet his voice sounded as if it came from right next to her. "He'll come back when his task is completed. I don't know how long that will take, so maybe you should just... forget about him for the time being." And the man turned the corner and disappeared.

Tori jumped to her feet and ran towards the main street. She looked wildly in the direction he turned, but there was no one there. The streets were empty.

Suddenly remembering, she looked down at her body. She rubbed her chest, which wasn't sore anymore. In fact, her whole body was perfectly fine in a way that it had never been all her life. No niggling headache at the back of her eyes, no sore muscles, itchy spots on the skin, and... her ankle was painless!

She looked down at her watch. It was just after half-past one in the morning. What was she doing here, out in the streets at this time of the night? She ran back to her apartment building.

***

The alarm went off and Tori shot out her hand automatically, hitting the snooze button with years' worth of muscle-memory accuracy as her eyes were still closed.

Heavy with sleep, she struggled to open her eyelids. She looked out towards the opened blinds of her bedroom window. It was an overcast day, but for some reason Tori felt like it was going to be a good day. She sat up in bed, stretched her arms, and started getting dressed for work.

As she was heading into the kitchen, she passed by her laundry room and did a second take. There was a big litter box next to her washing machine, and three boxes of cat food cans were stacked against the walls.

That's... strange. I haven't owned a cat since I was eleven. Why did I buy all this cat stuff again? Oh! That's right... it must be for the neighbour.

Tori quickly finished her breakfast cereal, brushed her teeth, and made multiple trips from her laundry to carry out all the cat food and the litter box to the front of her neighbour's door. While she was carrying one of the boxes of cat food, she thought it was strange that it was already opened, and some cans were missing.

Her neighbour, Mrs Wellington, was a nice 86 year old lady. After her husband passed away and her children moved overseas, she had no family left and spent her time caring for her three cats. Tori often stopped by when she left for work, occasionally passing Mrs Wellington some food as an excuse to check in on her health.

Tori knocked on the door and waited the usual several minutes for Mrs Wellington to shuffle to the front door. Upon seeing it was Tori, Mrs Wellington opened the door wide and smiled, "Oh, Victoria, it is so lovely to see you again. What, what's all this then?" She gestured to the cat food and litter box on the floor.

"Oh, yeah, I got these for you! I can't remember when I bought them, but the expiry isn't for a while anyway!" Tori said cheerfully, bending over to pick up the boxes and carry them into Mrs Wellington's apartment.

The old lady moved aside and stared at the litter box left near the front door.

"Oh, dear," she said softly. "Has something happened to Mister Snuffles, Victoria?"

Tori dropped the boxes of cat food onto Mrs Wellington's kitchen counter, and looked at her with a confused frown. What is she talking about? Mr Snuffles? Who's that? Is she going senile?

Tori gave a small chuckle, "What are you talking about? Anyway, I have to head to work, are you okay with unpacking the cans yourself? I'll bring in the litter box into the front door for you to put away, that okay?"

Mrs Wellington looked taken aback, but had no choice but to nod and wave goodbye as her neighbour brought in the litter box and closed the door behind her.

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Word count: 2541

Comment: This was my first submission to the weekly Reedsy Prompts contest, where you are given five prompts and can submit an original story between 1000-3000 words long. This story prompt was inspired by Haruki Murakami, whose novels often centre around a missing cat. He also has a lot of magical surrealism in his novels, and you often finish reading his stories with zero of your questions being answered. I wanted to emulate that in this short story, and had quite a lot of fun with it!

Also, if you would like to see my Reedsy profile and all my submissions, click here.

Sunday, 16 February 2020

17/02/2020: Valentine's Day

It is a bright, sunny day, and yet I feel miserable as I pound the pavement on my way to work. Valentine's Day decorations are strewn all over the city, making my stomach churn. I know surely I cannot be the only one not celebrating, but everyone around me seems to be carrying some type of Valentine's Day treat, whether it's flowers, a box of chocolates, or some other type of pampering they have inflicted on themselves.

Society has never been subtle about celebrating Valentine's Day, the day where all single people celebrate their independence.

Me, on the other hand, am in a relationship.

I don't like to bring it up unless someone asks, because every time I do, there's always that look of pity, a placement of a 'comforting' hand on the shoulder, or the classic, "I really hope you find love for yourself, you deserve to be happy!"

Of course, I could just buy my own bouquet of flowers or box of chocolates and blend in with the rest of the crowd in the city, but the second I walk into work, my colleagues will start their pity party for me again, assuming that my partner bought them for me.

I sigh as I quickly step aside to avoid a woman (wearing an indiscreet "I HEART ME" t-shirt) carrying a huge bouquet of flowers in her arms; the bouquet swings precariously from side to side as the woman flaunts every bit of singleness in her body.

Don't get me wrong, I don't actually hate single people. In fact, I'd love to be single. It's just that for the majority of my life, I've been in a relationship, and for some reason I can't seem to be single.

I sometimes catch myself wishing I could break up with my partner and flaunt the single life. I could be totally independent, I could do whatever I wanted to do, and I wouldn't have to rely on or answer to anyone else.

But the fact is... I can't stand being by myself. I loathe myself, and when I'm not with my partner, or with other people, I just feel so horribly lonely. It's quite frankly really pathetic.

I wonder how single people do it. To be so confident in life, to be so loving to yourself, to prioritise self-care... I want that. I really, really want that.

I know my partner feels the same way. We love each other, but... we both know we're ashamed of each other. If either of us could completely change our personalities, we'd dump each other in a heartbeat. It's even worse when society has days like Valentine's to celebrate singleness, and the rest of us are left to doing double dates to make ourselves feel a little less lonely.

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Word count: 465

Comment: Valentine's Day has just passed around and I thought about a society where singleness and independence were celebrated, and being in a relationship was pitied. I think it is so cruel and unfair that our current society celebrates love and makes single people feel like they are of less value, or to be pitied. I know a lot of single people who love being single, and I know that when I was single that was definitely a great time for finding yourself, loving yourself, and being comfortable being alone.

Being in a relationship is nice, but I think a relationship can only be strong if both people are comfortable being on their own. You shouldn't have to be dependent on a partner because you're scared of being single or being alone; I think if this were the case then there would be a lot of unrealistic expectations of relationships filling up some sort of empty void in yourselves. If you rely on your partner to fill your empty void, then the energy they use to fill your void might create an empty void in themselves as well, and you end up with a relationship that has a few holes in it.

Rather, you should fill that empty void with your own self love, and you should be a whole, complete person before entering a relationship. That way, the relationship is made of two strong independent people, whose wholeness adds to each others' lives.

Sunday, 9 February 2020

03/02/2020: On a train

Prompt: Write a short story that takes place on a train


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A loud coughing breaks my train of thought. Automatically, I glance over to where the coughing came from. Is this coronavirus? I look over again, this time more deliberately.

Oh, no, it can't be. That lady's white. I relax a bit more in my seat. Wait... am I racist? ...Probably.

I brush it off and go back to what I was thinking of: "If a terrorist came into this carriage, what would I do?" From where I'm sitting, I can see the doors that lead to the next carriage in front, but I obviously can't see the doors leading into the carriage behind me, unless I fully turn around, which would be weird for my adjacent passengers. And, I guess, anyone in that area of the train that so happens to look up and see me staring at them. No, I'll just have to focus on the doors in front of me and just pray nothing happens behind me.

If a terrorist arrives, I could see him. Or her, I guess. I mean, equality, right?

Anyway, there's only limited leg space in these cramped, underfunded trains, so I'll have to quickly duck under before anyone else. That way, if the terrorists start shooting, the chairs (and the other people) would block me.

Then what? Maybe I can play dead. Although I'd have to try and make sure I'm close to the side of the train, since it'll be harder for them to check if I'm still alive there. I'm sitting in the aisle seat now, and if I play dead here, they could easily poke or kick me to see if I'm just pretending.

I wonder if I could overpower them.

Not from here, though, right in the centre of the carriage. I'd have to make my way to the seat at the far end of this section, right next to the stairs. That way, when they're going down the stairs I could pounce on them. But I wouldn't be able to get there without being seen. Unless...

I stick my head into the aisle so I can look under the seats.

Oh, my heart sinks. Each chair on the train has a diagonal bar sticking into the ground that would make crawling under them impossible.

"Ahem, excuse me." I hear a voice above me. I look up and behind to see an annoyed lady leading a line of commuters through the carriage. They must have just gotten on at the last station, and here I am, my head sticking out into the aisle, blocking their way.

I quickly apologise and sink into my chair. God, I hope they don't hate me. They all pass, they all find their seats, and the train is no longer bustling again.

A loud coughing behind me. Automatically, I glance over in that direction, but I can't see anything unless I turn around to see who coughed. I tap my foot in restless agitation.

Is this coronavirus?


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Word count: 493

Comment: I haven't really ever written a character who was really paranoid/anxious so this was fun. I have had some of these types of thoughts before - thinking up the worst case scenario on a boring train ride, but not to this level of detail. I wanted to make this character ridiculous but still sort of normal - it's not a clinical level of paranoia, but it's paranoid and anxious enough to be considered a bit odd.