She sat on the shelf in the basement. Watching in silence and always waiting. The human stood below her, with his pile of clean clothes. He picked up the stack and made his way upstairs. His toes found a dog toy and he wobbled. Gargoyle held her breath. He stumbled backwards, sending his clothes flying in every direction. The creature smiled as she watched it all unfold.
Oof, the poor fella. This mean critter came from the missus. Everybody loves her previous art here, so she gets tapped again for a drawing. You can say hello to her on Twatter at @DonnaMStrachan and you can nobble her art prints from Society6 and you can buy her a cuppa on Ko-fi.
The show at Theatre Spectaculation ensued with murder, blood and gore. The actors bowed and then sat down into chairs that had been placed behind them.
The stage and the actors were thrown into seizures as the electricity coursed through their bodies. After three minutes of the Friday night fry, smoke emanated from their lifeless bodies. The director, Thomas the Tintalator emerged and snarled, “a little pain for a little production, a little death for the day and the ultimate show is created.”
Story by Lady Black of Hope, Truth and Light. She’s been writing poetry since she was 15. Lady moved onto music, scriptwriting and now fiction. She’s not stopping there, with a t-shirt company, singing career and rock band in the works. Check out her blog at mentalhealthrecovery.home.blog
This beast kept chewing herbs for hours on end and always spat them out. He didn’t even eat them! What a waste of thyme.
As time goes by, I’m becoming more conscious of waste. I have always been pretty eco-friendly. I use everything until it’s falling apart before I replace it.
The missus and I currently produce less than a litre of bin waste every two weeks. The only thing I go through a lot of is paper. My constant scribbling has filled two A4 file boxes in the last eight years. That doesn’t sound like much. But I draw at a tiny scale. The photos I scribble on are printed twelve per page.
I feel the only way I can improve with pen and ink is to draw at a larger scale. You’re limited on what you can fit onto a 2-inch square. But then, the way I draw and discard, I’d be using twelve sheets of paper a day instead of one.
The pot of ink and nib pen I just bought will last me twelve months. I think, over the next year, I’ll look into digital alternatives to pen and ink. Heck, I’ve written a course on turning doodles into digital graphics (clicky). There must be a way I can create something unique daily, cut out the paper use and improve what I do.
Wouldn’t be right, having a Kaijune with no giant iguanas.
I have two more collaborations to publish. Then I hope to end this series of collabs. If you’ve already received the initial email from me and have started planning or writing a story for submission, let me know ASAP. My open offer to everyone for future collaborations may return. But I’m going to need a break from them.
Each collaboration takes 2-10 times longer to publish than my own daily stories. That’s OK when it’s only one story a week. But then add onto that the staggering amount of time wasters you get.
A lot of folks noticed I was taking submissions but didn’t read the blog post or initial email. For every one post that gets published, I sift through five random, unusable submissions. From Mills & Boon style romance too entire chapters of books. Nevermind the grammatical and spelling messes I’ve turned away. I don’t mind doing some correction. I also don’t mind letting some mistakes stay in their stories. I’m certainly not a perfectionist with spelling and grammar. But when there are ten mistakes in a 512 character long story? Be polite, use a spell checker before submitting a story, you know?
I would like to return to the collaborations. I enjoy working with other writers to create great stories. I get to see my characters in a new light. It’s great seeing folks riffing off the tropes I use daily. Collaborating is also a great learning experience. But right now, I need a break from them.
Seren woke feeling discombobulated. She recalled uncomfortable sensations of dry heat, crinkling popping noise and falling, dishevelled, broken.
She lay quite still assessing this situation: A soft voice murmuring, but only one voice. The rise and fall of the intonation soothed Seren. A silken blanket wrapped around her, lifting her.
Gentle expertise lowered her brokenness into a refreshing, warm bath. Perfumed aromas filled her spirit and she sighed.
Thoroughly relaxed, she focused on the voice until she was able, finally to hear; “After an accident Eastern Serendipity!”
Story by Sue of Connects.live Checkout Sues blog for her, almost, daily musings. Thanks for the tale, Sue!
Little Fears 