Karma opened the
blinds to her dorm room, signaling the sun’s rays to drape her in its
warmth. Classes had resumed. Summer break was now a thing of the
past. She had her assignments, her books, other supplies, and her
boyfriend’s heart.
What would he do
without her at home now that she’s traveled back to finish her last
year of college? Under his mattress was a letter. In it, she’d
written:
“I told you not
to fall for me. I only wanted your heart. Now, that I have it, you
have nothing.”
Poor Jesse, his life was full of bad karma.
Story by Tre of ACorneredGurl.com. I’m pretty confident y’all know the legend that is Tre. If ya haven’t, check out either her WordPress blog or Medium. She also takes submissions on weekly themes if you’re interested.
From the theme park
gates onwards, neither Copper or Iron saw anything resembling the
world they had known for the next few hundred miles. Flat sand in
every direction occasionally rose into dunes where there had once
been dense forests. Townships were absent wherever marked on the map.
The lack of
distractions let Copper’s mind wander back to the creature that had
been watching them. It reminded her of a bird. Its piercing eyes was
about all Copper could make out. It would certainly explain how it
got onto the roof it was perched on.
Whatever it was, it had ruffled Copper’s feathers.
They drove on through the night, stopping only to scavenge fuel from other abandoned vehicles. They’d occasionally pass driving and recharge time between each other. They polished off a bottle of oil between them, leaving them refreshed for the day ahead.
As morning broke, a curious sight got Irons attention. The head of a cartoon mouse laid on the ground next to the gates of a theme park. Copper knew what it was and she wasn’t stopping for a look around.
It was a trap for humans owned by a mouse.
Sorry folks, I missed yesterdays tale and today I’m super late. Been sat about with only a mobile this last 24 hours. Great for browsing social media and blogs. Terrible for actually posting, haha. Normal service will be resumed tomorrow.
They hopped in the
car, continuing their journey to Brass in a tad more comfort than
they’d become accustomed too. A rumble and roar came from the back
of the car every so often. Sometimes smoke would billow out from the
rear of the vehicle.
Copper checked the back seat and found a pack of earplugs. They certainly helped make the noise from the rear of the car more bearable, and driving was certainly better than walking all the way to Brass.
A whir and a clunk, and the car started. Iron snatched a cloth from the centre console and began cleaning the window. Copper rummaged about in the boot of the car and found a window scraper.
The duo got to work cleaning all of the Fords windows. It reminded Iron of the time she used a Grim Reaper toys plastic scythe to remove the snow from her old car.
It wasn’t a task to repeat though. Iron knew she’d de-iced with death.
Within the hard, shrivelled cocoon of his lifeless body, Beau
slept. The silken cover of his shelf bed stirred softly in the breeze
from the opening door.
Suddenly a shrill whistle pierced the quiet. Skilful hands removed
Beau from his silken cover and placed him in a warm glasshouse. He
was immersed in a scalding liquid. After the initial shock warmth
eased his inner soul out of his ugly body. His true colour flooded
the liquid and his seed blossomed into a lovely flower.
Feeling alive he floated up to the top of his new glass house.
He heard a soft voice announce, “Here is my Beau-Tea”.
Story by Sue of Connects.live Checkout Sues blog for her, almost, daily musings. Thanks for the tale, Sue!
Copper watched the
road they’d come from. Keeping an eye out for the creature that had
been watching them. Iron continued fiddling under the dash of the
car. An occasional whir and grind came from the engine.
It reminded Copper of the one car she’d driven. It would always stop working during the hottest hours of the afternoon. She couldn’t stand that Ford Siesta.
It was a fear I had myself back at the start of the year. I’d done serials before. 30 posts for each of the Lost Leads crime stories. I was concerned about doing anything longer than 30 stories as it felt like an attention span limit. My current story is about 53 tales into an 88 tale long story. So yeah, the ongoing, serialized fear story that is Brass, just ain’t working for me.
There are a few reasons for it. I thought I’d run through them in a post. Do something, learn from the experience and then explain.
The internet has a short attention span.
100% including myself there. I cannot tell you how many blog/fiction serials have hooked me in the first few chapters. Then I forget to visit. I delay catching up and fall further behind. Then I skip a few chapters and miss something important. It doesn’t apply so much with the Brass series. But psychologically, it matters. For both readers and myself.
Some folks hate serials.
Like, straight up. There’s some real hate for web-serials. I’ve had a few comments from older Fears followers that said they stopped reading on the Brass serial. They check in to see whether it’s over. Although I always say, don’t write for other people, serialized fiction is rather polarizing.
People who join halfway, walk away.
A combination of both of the above. Folk that have been following Brass since the start, are not put off by the episode numbers in each post. Readers that first see the Little Fears, on chapter 40, will often read, laugh, then leave and not come back. They feel they’ve already missed out on a huge chunk of the story and can’t catch up.
The Fears are far less nimble.
I’m always miles ahead of where I need to be for content. I’ve pre-written years worth of stories. But, I mentioned all the big plans I have several times before, and I can’t seem to get them going. When I post too frequently outside of the ongoing Brass story, it seems to mentally disrupt my flow. It’s another psychological thing. The background story of Brass is vague. But it still feels disruptive when my feed bounces between the ongoing story and random “fear of ink,” stories. I think that’s the killer for me. Not being able to enact all my great plans. A story is now holding me back.
Going forward
As there are only 35’ish tales left in this serial, I’ll continue it to the end. I think in future I’ll avoid writing singular serials such as Brass. Instead, writing more one off’s that might have a theme and character progression. Seeking Hydra and Grey Moon style. As for different projects, one thing that is apparent to me from people coming to the Fears mid serial is that I need to have a home page, footer or header that can take you to a complete story/category of the website. Even a single post with links to all single tales within a particular storyline would help. I think I’ll get to work on that this weekend.
I’ll end by saying I’m happy with Copper and Iron, and that I started publishing Brass online. I’m a firm believer, that no matter how many “ten great ways you can write a story,” articles that exist out there, a lot of the time you’ve got to try things and see how they turn out. Sometimes you’ll hit, sometimes you’ll miss. But you’ll often never know until you take a swing.
Little Fears 