Cold Stone Statue

The door closed. His face, sallow, crumpled, reflected the painful years of resignation shrouding the limp, haphazard room. The large pedestal towered over his dingy, sparse furniture, and his pale eyes were drawn once more to the cold stone figure staring imperiously from its regal position.

“Don’t stare at me,” he whispered vehemently, hissing under his breath, like a disturbed snake.

The perfectly carved eyes of the granite statue continued to stare, vacantly, dispassionately. He imagined a curl of the upper lip into a twist of disdain. He hated her. He wished he had never set eyes on her. The fire of his passion was now white hot, cutting like a gas axe through his former forgotten caresses.

“You sit there and do nothing!” he hissed, and his wasting body deflated further into his chair with the effort of forming intense emotion into words. She gazed over his head by a centimetre. Her rigidly flowing coverlet pulled protectively over the curve… He pulled his eyes away, shutting them tightly as his passion converted suddenly to the day he first caught a glimpse of her, stalwartly facing into a gusty summer breeze, her rough-cut hair tightly braided to keep it from whipping in her face.

“Curse you,” he muttered, his gaze now falling, unfocused, to his own emaciated legs, draped limply with crocheted granny squares of mismatched gay colours. His hands closed and opened, and he felt for a moment, the perfect curve of a carving tool curled into his palm, felt the vibrations of the hefty wooden mallet pounding… His reverie was interrupted as the door banged abruptly open against the wall, shaking the peeling faux-gold ornate picture frames on the opposite side of the room.

“This it?” grunted the heavy-set, bristly bearded man, his piercing eyes bored first into the vacant expression of the wrinkled man huddled in the old-fashioned wheelchair tucked into the far corner of the room, then held the lifeless statue in an acute gaze, measuring her sculpted form precisely, as he pushed the solidly fixed wooden crate toward her on perfectly oiled hydraulic wheels.

========
I wrote this piece especially for OM, as part of a series prepared for guest blogging at HarsH ReaLiTy in early 2014. Although the guest blogging is not going ahead, at this stage, it provided much needed motivation for me to start writing creatively. This is probably the first serious bit of fiction I have written for over twenty years. It unfolded as I typed, as if it had a mind of its own. I could clearly see the room, the characters, and feel their emotions.

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Add a Something Flash Fiction #4

This is growing into something interesting. Here’s an index of the Somethings so far:

Add a Something Flash Fiction #1 In which Chainsaws Bite

Add a Something Flash Fiction #2 In which Something gets stuck, Squiggle is a darling Plodopuss who is destined to take over the world, and someone was a friend, until the truth is revealed.

Add a Something Flash Fiction #3 In which an intruder brings tears to my eyes.

Once again, simple rules, one comment for the beginning, one comment for the middle, and one comment for the end.

First commenter sets the scene.

🙂

~WilderSoul

PS. While out blog-foraging, I came across this cool blogger’s idea for getting through writer’s block

http://thelettervy.wordpress.com/2013/07/08/blocked-writers-anonymous-hangout

Add a Something Flash Fiction #3

Thanks to all who joined in on the last one!

This one has rules… you’re allowed to break them…

The rules are to make it real quick to finish one story.

First comment is the beginning
Second comment is the middle
Third comment is the end

No topic – the first comment sets the scene.

Have a go 🙂

Add a Something Flash Fiction #2

Different rules this week – add a line or so and keep the story going. Join in anytime.
Topic today – choose from:

It Stuck
She was a friend
Squiggle the Plodopuss

🙂
~WilderSoul

Add a Something Flash Fiction.

Here’s a boost to get creative with some buddies in your spare time. Let go of control of the narrative, and enjoy or look on in horror at where the story ends! For those who believe in having a bit of a laugh. By the way, breaking the rules really means you can break the rules. Be creative! Write only one word. Or ten. It can be nonsense, that’s fine. Let’s get rid of any writer’s blocks and get the words flowing from the brain, prompting others to follow suit.

Choose a Title:

  1. Chainsaws Bite.
  2. Whose Dog Ate That?
  3. The Piano Thief.

150 Words Flash Fiction

The first person writes the first 50 words.

The second person writes the second 50 words.

The third person writes the third 50 words.

That makes the Beginning, the Middle, and the End.

Extras

Anyone can contribute a photograph or picture to go at the top of the story.

Rules can be broken.

More than one story can be started at a time. Choose a title, and get started, and then join in on other beginnings, or middles, or ends. You’re welcome to add them here as comments, or start them on your own blog and link here to attract others to join in on your blog.

I’ll comment below to get it all started. Hmmmm…. which title will I choose….. oh, feel free to choose your own title and get started like that!