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
A turtley awesome kaiju for Kaijune this morning. This fella used to be an introvert, he was a shell of his former self. But now he’s come out of his shell.
He’s got a brother, they share the same mother, but the father was a porcupine. Now, if you cross a porcupine and a turtle you get a right slowpoke.
Oh, dear god, stop me.
Just three more kaiju and we’re done with this series. I shall miss these monsters.
I get told, quite often, I work hard when other writers see the graft I put into the fears. Honestly, I feel do work hard. But the big difference I find between myself and other writers is, I finish my drafts and projects. Then move on.
I’ll mash out stories all the time. My current ratio is writing 12 stories and discarding 6 of them. Of the 6 I keep, at least 3 need work before anyone’s going to read and groan at them. There are some days when I write and keep all 12 stories. There are other days when I write 12 shite stories and discard them all.
I take this approach with everything. Get stuff made first, discard the bad bits, keep the good bits. Then move on.
I say this because I’m still reading blogs I was reading 15 years ago, and their authors still haven’t finished their books first draft. I get, life’s hard, writings hard, but get the damn draft finished. You’re probably not going to keep half of it anyway, right?
What is it they say?
The purpose of a first draft is not to get it right, but to get it written.
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!
“How did you get to this island?” asked Spectre. “You didn’t come with me, and I didn’t tell anyone I was coming here.”
“I’m not sure,” pondered Sprite. “I remember waiting at a dirty bus stop next to a lobster with breast implants. One was a crusty bus station, and the other a busty crustacean.”
They chuckled together. Sprite squeezed Spectres shoulder. “Please, don’t walk up the road.”
“It can’t be the road to the afterlife,” called Sprite as he chased after Spectre.
Spectre was already across the road and marching through a cornfield. “What the heck?”
As Sprite caught up, he saw Spectre standing on another road. Spectre was looking at a line of plastic dolls. They led to a pile of coal with an iron grate on top.
“The snail?” asked Spectre. “What’s he up to nowadays?”
“He’s homeless,” replied Sprite. “He got evicted from his shell by a slimy landlord.”
“Oh, man, poor guy,” remarked Spectre. “How’s he taken it?”
“Better than expected,” said Sprite. “But he’s feeling a little sluggish.”
Alas, poor Alfred. Another illustration from the missus. Everybody loves her previous art here, so once again, she gets tapped for a drawing. You can check her art out and 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.
Little Fears 