55 Fiction Friday! August 17, 2007

It's time again for 55 Fiction Friday!
Quick explanation: 55 fiction is a very, very short story of exactly 55 words. It needs to have a character, conflict and resolution.

The Wikipedia article on 55 Fiction is here.

Some great examples are here..

If you'd like to play along, I tell you how at the end of this post.


Normally, I'd do my regular attention-hooring and put mine up first. Today's not normal. First, I have a rare day off. The rare day off follows an absolutely insane week of work and play that left me no blogging time. Don't worry, I'm a retired/recovering Catholic; I'm doing penance my way. Since I seldom have the opportunity, I slept in and that means I'm getting the 55 Fiction Friday post up late.

So, what does that have to do with how I'd normally post the fiction? I've been scolded. I've been scolded in the most delightful way. A comment was left just this morning on last week's 55 Fiction Friday post. (Penance = public scolding.) I'm fairly certain penance isn't supposed to make you giggle but I didn't read that in the retired/recovering Catholic by-laws so I'm going to call it a loophole.

SGT writes:
Bored while waiting for a program to run this morning, I perused my favorite blogs. Sadly I could not find a link to Wurdy's blog.

I searched high and low. Finally I had found it via Lindy's post.

Sadly, she still had not updated with new content.

Shrugging, I posted appropriately to the stale content.



Here's my 55 for this week:

Untitled, please help
Red droplets fell from the knife. Marie’s hands, too, dripped crimson.
Memory flashed: firm flesh, blade slashing, again and again.

She’d started deliberately, each cut precisely placed.
By the time she finished, she’d become sloppy.
The knife work became reckless, hurried; hands aching from grasping the knife’s handle.

This would be the perfect cherry pie.



MrWurdi contributes his 55:

Morning Bliss
Pre-dawn, the morning after your brisk hike.
Now you’re snuggling in the soft grass of a mountain meadow.
Sunrise, quiet, every nerve’s alive.
Wind in the trees and a simple breeze on your body.
One finger lightly caressing that which sends her screaming into the day.

It has to be perfect.

One shot.

One kill.




Come play! Add your story to the comments or put it on your blog and I'll link to it. It's fun. You'll like it.