"Small" writing challenges for my small writing talent. Hotel note pads are the only space allowed. Let's see if I can strip it down and tighten it up to learn something. Improving my skill of weird fiction.
The story told at night is about the Red Invasion. Like ghosts and witches and bumps in the night, it has children’s eyes wide open until the end. No one could tell it with panache better than great Uncle Ray. The story, like other stories, begins and ends the same. Good guys meet bad. They fight. Somewhere, they find common ground. Understanding. The fighting stops and everyone gets along. The end. Every child who heard Ray tell it happily fell asleep without a worldly concern. It was told a million times by a million families and to most everyone, it’s just a story.
Yet, there sat great Uncle Ray quietly sleeping by the fireplace, with a half leg of prosthetic and a white beard on his flannel covered chest. The grand nephews and nieces were long asleep and the rest of the family at the table laughing and chatting away over coffee and desserts. Above the slow crackling fire, above the mantel, in a clear sealed box, rested a maroon scaly limb with four pronged dull claws.
When old enough, great Uncle Ray would ask the children if they knew that story, and then take them to visit his best friend. There, they would meet a scaly maroon skinned man, with a prosthetic arm, and hear his stories, their stories, and learn about the new world. Above the friend’s fireplace, in a similar clear box, rested Ray’s Army-booted leg. Now relegated to bed time status, that story has always been true. One that began with great Uncle Ray and his best friend Qk’zbor%ks.
(Author’s notes) October 20th, 2015: Edmonton, AL, Canada. (260 words but i can’t seem to get ten less)
I’m leaning towards somewhat creepy stuff that fits well into October. It’s also proof something good can come out of not having anything and not knowing at all what to write about. I ws laying in the bed around midnight starting at this little hotel pad wondering what to put on there. I thought about yesterday’s story; how that came about. I still had nothing. Bedtime is for bedtime stories so I wrote one. Where the story was actually true. I had no idea it would end like this at all and in fact, when people say to write a story without outlines or plans or notions of how it will turn out, they can also be quite correct. Try it. You’ll get something like what I wrote above.
As always, if you like something, please check out the other stories. I promise they’re small and easy to read-I don’t know many big words. And leave comments, oh yeah, so I know what people like to read.