This week’s #SundayLit prompt is: Time

Snip "Bijou the Time Traveling Ghost," #WIP #RoughDraft

“Yeah, I can’t see myself building a raft and paddling out to the pyramids. I don’t suppose we could just time-travel over there? We don’t seem limited spacially when doing it. And it doesn’t seem as taxing as dematerialization.”

End Snip

#NMSL #NMPrompts #TimeTravel

#SundayLit Time

How long they walked for, or how far, Frida couldn’t tell. Neither time nor distance were the same here as in mortal lands. Halfdan led the way, Ulrika followed, and Frida brought up the rear, with Ulf riding in her apron pocket. As they walked, she became aware of a slowly growing movement in the darkness around them, a feeling of a wind that was not a wind, the creaking of trees that were no trees, and a snuffling sound, made by what she didn’t know, and nor did she want to.

This week’s #SundayLit prompt is: Time

My trail meandered through forest and fields and forded streams. I followed skeptically. In late afternoon, it led into a treat—strawberries. I gorged myself, sure they were the tastiest ever, then threw more in my pack, staining everything pink. There was no concern about food that time of year. I had more of an issue with the lack of sanitary products.

This week’s #SundayLit prompt is: Time

(In which my MCs have difficulty with the concept)

Jimmy Howard was dragged unceremoniously from his unsound sleep by the sound of a hammering at the door of his flat. At first, he tried to ignore it; maybe whoever it was would give up and leave him be. Alas, the mysterious visitor had no such sensibility. With a throaty growl of annoyance, he heaved himself into a sitting position to get a look at his bedside clock. 8:25? In the morning? To Jimmy’s habitually late-to-bed-and-late-to-rise mentality, this was a very rum time for a social call indeed. He hove himself out of bed and grabbed at his dressing gown, hoping very much that this was important. As he wrestled with the garment, the hammering continued with renewed vigour.

“Yes, yes, I’m coming,” Jimmy yawned, shuffling his way across the sitting room. The pounding finally ceased, and he opened the door to a very familiar young woman wearing all black and an intense expression.

“Isabel!” he cried, as his sister cheerfully shouldered past him into the flat.

“Hullo Jimmy, how’s things?”

“What the blazes do you mean, ‘how’s things’? Bel, I haven’t seen you for months! Where on earth have you been?” Jimmy shut the door and leaned on it so that he might more effectively glare his disapproval.

“I’ve just been here in London,” Isabel replied absentmindedly, casting her eyes over the room—specifically, the amount of mess in it. “More to the point, Jimmy, what happened to your valet?”

“Hang the valet! The last time we spoke was at the funeral, in June. We are now in September, and I don’t even know where you live anymore!” This made Isabel pause for thought, just momentarily.

“Oh, did I not give you my address? Let me just…” She rummaged in her handbag and pulled out a small notebook, a crumpled piece of paper, a single earring (“So that’s where that went”), and finally a pen.

#SundayLit Q1. Do you write and/or read short stories?
Q2. What are the benefits and drawbacks of writing short stories?

I write lots of short stories, most of them flash length. The advantage is that I can turn them out fast and run with a single item. This disadvantage is primarily you need to stay focused, and the idea can't require a buildup.

“Winter Night”

#SundayLit #PoetryOnTheFly

On a winter night, dark and dreary.
A computer’s glow on my face, weary.
I labored words to outpour.

Said the Raven, "Nara Moore."

#SmallPoem #Pastiche #EdgarAllenPoe #Raven #Corvids #NMPoetry

#SundayLit 100 word Short story: A Winter's Night

The fox ran over the moonlit snow. Hunger drove him, scent led him; down to the eaves of the forest, to a lonely cottage with a hen-house. Once among the chickens madness took him, blood splashed the walls. The door opened, a light shone. "Curse you, Reynard!" cried the angry witch. "You shall become the worst creature I can think of!" The fox swore as his head hit the roof, and swore again as he saw what he had become.

A man.

@Emmacox

Benefits:

1. It's much more economical to explore an idea (or part of an idea) through a short story than through longer forms.

2. You can churn them out if you need to.

Drawbacks:

1. The idea might be too big to properly explore.

2. A lot of people hate reading short stories - even when they're provided gratis.

#SundayLit #SundayLitQ

@Emmacox I do both, although they're not my preferred format.

I write short stories to scratch itches or to fill out gaps in my world building or character development. Sometimes I write fanfic, but that's usually to scratch the aforementioned itches.

I read them to see how the market is - what's being published - and to gauge trends. It's rare that I find anything especially engaging (anyone seeing my reviews on my blog or bookwyrm will quickly discover how picky I am) , but it has been known to happen. I almost never read fanfic, mostly because it's nearly always a first (only) draft and fucking awful. I've been banned from fanfic channels for mentioning writing is rewriting.

#SundayLit #SundayLitQ