Turning Back

I step outside
I raise my net
I catch the moon.

Like Joshua,
who stilled the sun-
He kept blood flowing
I’d stop it up.

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Last Snow

“Why’d you give me this name, anyway?” asked Last Snow.
“Your mother and I called you that because we brought you home in a snowstorm,” her father said.  “We figured it was the last one we’d ever see, and we were right.”
He smiled at her.  She smiled back.
“I heard there’s some rice left in Boston.  I’ll take the gun and head over.  You stay here, out of sight.”  He shaded his eyes and looked through the greenery at the empty street.
“It’s already New Year’s,” he said.  “Hard to believe, isn’t it?”

———-

The world turns, the Fourier transform’s still on my wavelength, and I’ve got just enough sleep to walk around but not enough to boot up whatever scraps of intelligence I had previously. Anyway…Every Friday, writers from all around the world write 100 word (or thereabouts) flash fiction based on a photo posted that Wednesday on Rochelle Wisoff-Fields’ blog.

I welcome constructive criticism; without it I cannot grow as a writer.  The weekly photo that inspired this story is below:

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Shuteye

“We coulda jumped him somewhere else,” the man said. “Not right here in broad daylight.”
“Shut up and help me prop his bike up,” his partner said. “Lay him out next to it. Make it look like he’s napping.”
“Yeah, and how long will that fool people?”
“Long enough,” his partner said.
A thump. The man turned around and saw his partner topple to the grass. Then, just before he faded away as well, the man heard:
“Lay them out next to the bike. Make it look like they’re napping.”
A bird chirped. The world kept turning.

———-

I return after a lengthy intermission in my regularly scheduled programming.  This intermission involved becoming a father to a beautiful little girl named Evelyn.  But now (sleep permitting), I’m back in business!  Anyway…Every Friday, writers from all around the world write 100 word (or thereabouts) flash fiction based on a photo posted that Wednesday on Rochelle Wisoff-Fields’ blog.

I welcome constructive criticism; without it I cannot grow as a writer.  The weekly photo that inspired this story is below:

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The Promise

They say the sound’s like a freight train but all I could hear was the house cracking apart, sticks and stones whickering by like shrapnel.  I remember seeing my neighbor’s truck whirling up into the air like a skater doing a triple.  Next thing I know I’m underneath a lumber pile and hands are pulling boards off my leg.  I stand up, shaky but okay, and first thing I see is a rainbow off to the east.  I spit dirt out of my mouth, glance at the rainbow again, and wonder if God has a sense of shame.

———-

I’m back!  It’s been a long intermission, it’s true, but the lure of Friday Fictionners is just too much to resist.  Anyway…Every Friday, writers from all around the world write 100 word (or thereabouts) flash fiction based on a photo posted that Wednesday on Rochelle Wisoff-Fields’ blog.

I welcome constructive criticism; without it I cannot grow as a writer.  The weekly photo that inspired this story is below:

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The Sounds of Angosey

I recently uploaded a YouTube video demonstrating the sounds in my constructed language Angosey:

I ended up basing the video off of the Angosey alphabet, which has 34 characters.  As anyone who’s ever tried to spell in English knows, a letter can have multiple sounds, so simply knowing the alphabet’s a poor means of knowing how to pronounce a language.  Thankfully (and since I have this power), Angosey is pretty much pronounced as written.  There are a few minor exceptions, and I provide examples of them in the video.

Angosey has quite a few sounds that English does not have, and it lacks some common English sounds.  For example, the Angosey letters “eu” and “q” have no English equivalents (though Korean does) and the sound associated with the Angosey letter “p” only exists in some African languages.  Angosey lacks the “f,” “b” and “p” sounds that English has, and “d,” “t” and “r” are noticeably different.  The video shows the International Phonetic Alphabet equivalents of each Angosey sound for the linguistically inclined.

It was a very interesting experience recording the sounds.  I have seldom actually tried to speak Angosey.  I usually only say a word or two when I’m testing out some new sounds.  I have also never heard more than a word or short sentence of Angosey spoken before (unless I was doing the speaking).   So this video is really my first chance to hear it as well.

I was surprised how hard it was to pronounce.  I always assumed that, simply because I had created it and tend to “hear” it in my mind when I’m writing in it, that I would be able to speak without hesitation.  The opposite was true.  My mind kept telling my mouth what to do, but actually producing the sounds felt unfamiliar.

I designed Angosey to sound both strange and pretty.  How well did I do?

 

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Up with Spring!

The old man reached into his backpack.
“See these?” he said, holding up a fistful of spikes.  “Caltrops.  They stop road equipment in its tracks.”
His daughter looked at him.  “Can we go soon?”
“Yes,” he said.
He walked out into the road, splashing through a muddy trickle swirled with diesel.  He glanced down.  Cobalt, pink, green; a metal rainbow.
He shook his head and started walking back and forth, scattering fistfuls of caltrops.
“Down with the Empire!” he shouted.
“Up with Spring!” she called back.
After that, they picked their way home through the quiet dripping trees.

———-

What’s more fun, trying to prove random properties of the dirac delta (which I’m not sure I believe in anyway) or writing fiction?   Anyway…Every Friday, writers from all around the world write 100 word (or thereabouts) flash fiction based on a photo posted that Wednesday on Rochelle Wisoff-Fields’ blog.

I welcome constructive criticism; without it I cannot grow as a writer.  The weekly photo that inspired this story is below:

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Rockets Raising Eyes to Heaven

“Tell me how to make a detonator from this,” the old man said, shaking the old cellphone in his fist.  “You know, yeah?”
“I know how.  But what for?” the young man asked.
“No one comes to our old hotel any more.  Let’s leave and blow it up so we can never come back.”
A rocket slammed into the hillside across the valley.  Chunks of clay pattered among the trees.
“We can go tomorrow,” the young man said.  “But let’s leave the hotel in peace.  Perhaps it will forget the sound of war some day.”

———-

Back in New Mexico, enjoying unseasonably cool weather and humidity approaching 50%.  The rains have come and the desert looks green, at least to my eyes.  Anyway…Every Friday, writers from all around the world write 100 word (or thereabouts) flash fiction based on a photo posted that Wednesday on Rochelle Wisoff-Fields’ blog.

I welcome constructive criticism; without it I cannot grow as a writer.  The weekly photo that inspired this story is below:

Posted in Friday Fictioneers | Tagged | 12 Comments