tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16294014844699252982024-03-08T06:32:59.979-05:00Absurd Person SingularMichael Seese's Blog About Writing & Life, Which Are About The SameMichael Seesehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03694187657718931214noreply@blogger.comBlogger677125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1629401484469925298.post-75190633511762790132020-12-12T17:30:00.001-05:002020-12-12T17:30:05.797-05:00Flash Friday: Water Dance<p><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><span style="font-size: large;">by Michael Seese</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">The Flash Friday contests always present us with interesting photos to work with, though in some instances they don't "speak" to me, and I can't think of anything to write. <a href="https://flashfriday.wordpress.com/2020/12/04/fireice-sol-17-19/">But this week</a>, the photo gave me an immediate opening line. <br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO33aUvlXsPfRabkpOh5Ln12GowBGkIxUHFvCkQjOu8EIoLL8cZysLFv4cHbgMFVcohXpCulhuYE2R5byi3PMHjvqAZd2A8NSKvoXYa7VJXpX0a2eYDUYhEpwv-87TyD2ZAQGGGx89nYF4/s800/summer_joy_-_flickr_-_dmitry_kichenko.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="544" data-original-width="800" height="272" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO33aUvlXsPfRabkpOh5Ln12GowBGkIxUHFvCkQjOu8EIoLL8cZysLFv4cHbgMFVcohXpCulhuYE2R5byi3PMHjvqAZd2A8NSKvoXYa7VJXpX0a2eYDUYhEpwv-87TyD2ZAQGGGx89nYF4/w400-h272/summer_joy_-_flickr_-_dmitry_kichenko.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /> </span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">We also had to include a stolen identity or a mistaken identity. I'm not sure how well I did so, but I sorta used the latter. Word count: between 140-150 words. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">So here is "Water Dance." </span><br /></p><p></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br />From my vantage point, just beyond the tree line, I would watch her creating her watery art. With each graceful sweep of her arms, she would bend the waves to her will, forming delicate sculptures, temporary monuments to the sea. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br />Then she would turn and dive away, her massive tail waving goodbye to dry land.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br />One day I ventured closer, out to water's edge. She pretended not to see me. But her waltz with Neptune took on a decidedly sexy tenor, a dance of seven shells, as it were. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br />The joyous joust between us continued for several weeks. Each day I would draw closer. Ankle deep. Knee deep. Thigh deep. I hoped she'd take the bait. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br />She did. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br />And I yanked the line.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br />The hook snagged her jaw.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br />She fought, but quickly tired. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br />I'm sure I'll miss her supernatural performances. But I won't miss my empty belly.<br /></span><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">I guess I was in a wicked mood last week. <br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p>Michael Seesehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03694187657718931214noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1629401484469925298.post-51159184880146085532020-12-05T08:44:00.001-05:002020-12-05T08:44:29.360-05:00Janet Flash: Classic Rock<p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">by Michael Seese</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Taking a bit of a hiatus from the media-crazy world around us, agent Janet Reid unplugged for a bit of a breather. Upon her return, she said:</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><i>I've gotten a LOT of reading done these past few weeks, and I'm planning a post with a roundup of requests, queries etc. later in December. In the meantime, let's have a flash fiction contest to celebrate the endurance of the snot green sofa (where I do my reading.)</i> </span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">So for <a href="https://jetreidliterary.blogspot.com/2020/11/snot-green-sofa-flash-fiction-contest.html" target="_blank">last week's contest</a>, we were asked to write a 100-word story using:<br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br />green <br />sofa<br />slack<br />squint<br />tea </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Starting with "sofa," I came up with "Classic Rock," a title I absolutely hate. But I didn't want the name of the story to give anything away. <br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family: arial;">"I can make you a star, sweetie. But first..."<br /><br />"Whatever it takes," she teased, lying back on the sofa, flattening it.<br /><br />"Cut!" I yelled.<br /><br />"I simply can't work like this," Rex whined, throwing up his tiny arms.<br /><br />I agree not everything had gone as planned. Indeed, this quintessential labor of love of mine appeared headed for divorce. On paper, it looked perfect; in reality, it's lacking a plot, competent actors, and passion.<br /><br />"Perhaps I could lose weight," Vela offered.<br /><br />Not before the asteroid hits, I thought. Some movies simply should not be made. Apparently "Jurassic Tart" is one of them. </span><br /></span></p><p></p><p><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">There
is a bit of an inside joke where. Whenever Janet is speaking of various
literary genres, she'll say something like, "Mystery, romance, or dino
porn." So I thought I would give her the latter. </span><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">As of the time I wrote this, she had announced <a href="https://jetreidliterary.blogspot.com/2020/11/snot-green-couch-flash-fiction-contest.html" target="_blank">the finalists</a>, but not the winner. Her comment about mine:</span></p><p><i><span style="font-family: georgia;">After I stop laughing, I will be able to tell you how much I love Michael Seese's pun-ch lines.</span></i></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">I'm looking forward to the final results.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p>Michael Seesehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03694187657718931214noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1629401484469925298.post-62430913042969920182020-11-25T18:23:00.001-05:002020-11-25T18:23:32.225-05:00Flash Friday: Hidden<p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">by Michael Seese</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">As promised, here is my entry for the <a href="https://flashfriday.wordpress.com/2020/11/20/fireice-sol-15-19/" target="_blank">11/20 Flash Friday competition</a>. Below is our prompt photo which, though hard to see. are termite mounds in Australia. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpb2Jz49eyeV69dqK3bM711eSIH3l7djMcTb5MfX9hmaCGVZ5sZiomf2kKovxxIngqEt64y-aIYZrYIC4YD_O-lBPyCSbjbDIrfOfRGXQbFsrhtjk5PcYCwJexrc8qNHOJqAXhDtFljc-e/s2048/litchfield_national_park_au_magnetic_termite_mounds_-_2019_-_3728.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1365" data-original-width="2048" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpb2Jz49eyeV69dqK3bM711eSIH3l7djMcTb5MfX9hmaCGVZ5sZiomf2kKovxxIngqEt64y-aIYZrYIC4YD_O-lBPyCSbjbDIrfOfRGXQbFsrhtjk5PcYCwJexrc8qNHOJqAXhDtFljc-e/w400-h266/litchfield_national_park_au_magnetic_termite_mounds_-_2019_-_3728.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br />And we had to include something/someone unseen OR include something/someone foreseen, with a word count between 180 and 190 words.<br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">I wanted to work off the idea of termites eroding the foundation of something, and settled on the metaphorical "Hidden."<br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-family: arial;">We toil in darkness, deep below the surface. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br />We search for softness in the sturdy, then attack it.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br />We gnaw away— silently, relentlessly, indiscriminately— decaying from within the forgotten foundations upon which you built your home, the erstwhile reliable structure you long ago erected in oblivion, then neglected. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br />And the beautiful irony is, we co-opt the detritus of your overtaxed architecture, and use it to establish our base. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br />You, meanwhile, remain above, oblivious to the creeping rot which endlessly undermines your happy, stable existence.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br />You luxuriate in the material bliss you've convinced yourself is "a life." </span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br />You ignore the growing sway beneath your feet, convincing yourself it's just a gentle zephyr, rather than a gale force of change.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br />You titter-teeter, all the while unaware that the entire house of cards you've spent a lifetime arranging "just so" is about to come crashing down upon your allegedly open mind. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br />We are hate. We are invisible, yet ubiquitous. We are patient, recognizing that eternity is on our side. And once the time arrives, the moment for us to reveal ourselves, we know it will be forever. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br />For we will not be stopped.</span><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">For the record, it's not really a story, as it doesn't have a beginning, a middle, and an ending.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Oh well. I guess the muse is allowed to take a day off here and there. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">We'll see how this Friday goes.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><br />Michael Seesehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03694187657718931214noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1629401484469925298.post-70647550680388086982020-11-22T21:18:00.000-05:002020-11-22T21:18:51.186-05:00Flash Friday: Pitfalls<p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">by Michael Seese</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">So there was a new <a href="https://flashfriday.wordpress.com/2020/11/20/fireice-sol-15-19/" target="_blank">Flash Friday this week</a>. But I never got around to sharing last week's entry. I think I'll circle back to last Friday, then catch up sometime in the next few days.<br /><br />The <a href="https://flashfriday.wordpress.com/2020/11/13/fireice-sol-14-19/" target="_blank">11/13 Flash Friday</a> presented us with this picture</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDgQrK2z_IfK52w9CSeriotR2CpBduaBDLqlFdwTE9TGELrbt2nJ1k7ndHwNpVv8Lc9we-zwkN1TVysgwVjvFIrJp9j0flL-w8X0nKlh197PlaYRYbUBgMVHweZ07AhGTNTFL_UCk8YvXO/s1772/pitfalls+5-img_8296.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1181" data-original-width="1772" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDgQrK2z_IfK52w9CSeriotR2CpBduaBDLqlFdwTE9TGELrbt2nJ1k7ndHwNpVv8Lc9we-zwkN1TVysgwVjvFIrJp9j0flL-w8X0nKlh197PlaYRYbUBgMVHweZ07AhGTNTFL_UCk8YvXO/w400-h266/pitfalls+5-img_8296.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /> </span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> and gave us the following parameters.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">- Include a statistician OR include an optimist<br />- Today’s word count: 103 exactly</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Trying to include both the statistician and the optimist, I came up with the original first line, "Gathered around the murky pit, we three: the optimist, the statistician, and me."</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Enjoying the rhythm and the rhyme, I decided to write a a story in verse, something that has intrigued me of late. In short order I had "Pitfalls." </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Two days wandering in the desert.<br />Exhausted.<br />Low on supplies.<br />Thirsty.<br />Gathered around the murky pit, we three:<br />the optimist,<br />the statistician,<br />and me.<br /><br />The optimist peered into the abyss.<br />"I'll bet there's water down there. If I jump just right, I'll miss <br />those rocks, and land with a graceful splash." <br /><br />The statistician looked at him askance.<br />"Are you crazy? Do you really think you can chance <br />a foolhardy dive?<br />I calculate your odds of staying alive at—"<br /><br />Two shoves with my boot.<br />One bone-crunching crash.<br />I now stood, alone. <br />"Oh look! <br />Two abandoned backpacks. <br />Enough food and water to see me home." </span><br /><br /><br /><br />Though it didn't win, it did <a href="https://flashfriday.wordpress.com/2020/11/16/fireice-sol-14-19-winners/" target="_blank">earn a shout out</a>: "Also to Michael Seese‘s “Pitfalls“ for an amusing story with its fun use of both dragon elements." (The "dragon elements" are including the statistician or the optimist.") <br /><br />Next: "Hidden."<br /></span></p><p><br /></p>Michael Seesehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03694187657718931214noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1629401484469925298.post-16964025943382050172020-11-07T19:22:00.036-05:002020-11-07T19:22:00.520-05:00Flash Friday: A Whale Of A Tale<p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">by Michael Seese</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Writing is magic. Case in point: <a href="https://flashfriday.wordpress.com/2020/11/06/fireice-sol-13-19/" target="_blank">this week's Flash Friday</a> contest. <br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">We were given this picture</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4BXNrbNPfcuF0TjHJ33uRuocGHSGN6cFRmwwNJlrjz1m-yJ-Rk4wo1qSLQ5NAnbRavNNPf6n9QEn3FgQa6sL7TIJIpnHLzVL8DLtWNWsvfX1YYUJPXub82rZm_-EF1qpIH67tryVbN6-Q/s1920/national-history-museum-4314035_1920.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1277" data-original-width="1920" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4BXNrbNPfcuF0TjHJ33uRuocGHSGN6cFRmwwNJlrjz1m-yJ-Rk4wo1qSLQ5NAnbRavNNPf6n9QEn3FgQa6sL7TIJIpnHLzVL8DLtWNWsvfX1YYUJPXub82rZm_-EF1qpIH67tryVbN6-Q/w400-h266/national-history-museum-4314035_1920.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">and asked to incorporate either a non-human character OR include a phrase in a non-English language. My first thought was a throwaway line, like "It had a certain <i>je ne sais quoi</i>." But that would have been cheap. Then I considered something from the whale's perspective, which would have allowed me to use some made-up whale language.<br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">But as the day wore on, nothing came to me.<br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Dinner. Nothing. <br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Then, as I was walking the dog, the idea hit! I pulled out my phone and dictated about half of it, wrapping up when I got back. <br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">So here is "A Whale Of A Tale."<br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">The grainy image flickered to life across the flat screen. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><br />"This is Malcolm Dalton, BBC News. I am standing outside the Natural History Museum, where scientists have made a startling discovery."<br /> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">The focus shifted to a bushy-eyebrowed scientist, who absolutely deserved black and white coverage.<br /> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">"Though marine biologists made every effort to save the beached whale, their labors ultimately were for naught. Pity. When we articulated the carcass, inside her belly we made a startling discovery. The skeletal remains of a human. Further examination determined that he was a male, perhaps 50 years old when he died. We can only speculate as to his identity."<br /> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Back outside, the intrepid hairpiece now stood before a phalanx of rabidly waving signs. The most prominent read simply, "Jonah 2:1-10."<br /> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">"As you can see, the identity of 'belly man’ has inspired countless—" <br /> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Pinocchio switched off the telly.<br /> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">"Good old Geppetto. I'll sure miss him," he said, his nose gaining an inch.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">If memory serves, I have not submitted any humorous stories for this go-around of Flash Friday. We'll see Monday how it goes.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p>Michael Seesehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03694187657718931214noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1629401484469925298.post-18292804471668933922020-11-05T18:22:00.020-05:002020-11-05T18:22:03.457-05:00Janet Flash: The Heretic<p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">by Michael Seese</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span>Ah, yes. Now I remember...</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span>Two Fridays ago (October 23) literary agent Janet Reid posted the <a href="https://jetreidliterary.blogspot.com/2020/10/get-back-on-track-flash-fiction-contest.html" target="_blank">Get Back On Track Flash Fiction Contest</a>, saying <br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span><i>This was one of those weeks I'd like to forget. I was down for the count for most of it, and have just now resurfaced to start digging around in my inbox</i>.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span>She asked us to us<br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span>track<br />rant<br />couch<br />super<br />noise<br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span>in a 100-word story. I forget what had me so occupied Friday AND Saturday that I didn't write. I guess the muse was taking a holiday.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span>Then, Sunday morning, while driving to the Pittsburgh airport (about 90 minutes) I came up with "The Heretic," and brain wrote it (dictating, of course), stopping at a turnpike rest stop to clean it up and post it.<br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><span><br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><span>"The Heretic"<br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">"Ouch. Could you try to be a little more careful with those nails!"</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">"Oh, all crucifixees complains about that," he said apologetically.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">"How about that rack over there?"</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">"Actually, it's a Catherine Wheel."</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">"Learn something new every day."</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">"What do you think?"</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">I never was good with snap decisions.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">"I don't know…"</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">"They do comes with a 100% money back guarantee."</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">"Super. I'll take them all.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Granted, it might be overkill. But with the family coming over for Thanksgiving, and the "rigged election" all they'll want to talk about, these little beauties should help keep the noise down.</span><br /><br /></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">It didn't win. <a href="https://jetreidliterary.blogspot.com/2020/10/get-back-on-track-flash-fiction-contest_26.html" target="_blank">But it did make the short list</a>, with the comment, "Turkey Day at the Seese residence promises to be quite the day!"<br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">And she's not far from wrong.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">PS: I'm creating this post a few days before the election; hopefully, by the time you read it we'll all be relieved, and saying "President-elect Joe Biden." <br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p>Michael Seesehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03694187657718931214noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1629401484469925298.post-73529378277395229012020-11-02T19:07:00.040-05:002020-11-03T18:55:59.787-05:00Janet Flash: Demons<p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">by Michael Seese</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span>Looking for "an infusion of flash fiction to get my mind off next Tuesday," literary agent Janet Reid offered us an <a href="https://jetreidliterary.blogspot.com/2020/10/flash-fiction-contest_30.html" target="_blank">unnamed flash fiction contest</a>. Use:</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">croc<br />frock<br />mock<br />lock<br />swok</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">in a 100-word story. <br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span>Since my <a href="http://michaelseese.blogspot.com/2020/11/flash-friday-real-life.html">Flash Friday effort</a> occupied Friday, I had to wait until Saturday to write this one. And somehow, time got away from me. (Like that NEVER happens.) <br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span>Then, while waiting for my wife to get her Halloween costume ready (she went as a witch) the idea struck. I wrote the first four paragraphs pretty quickly, and came up using "crockpoint" for "croc." Then we went to the party, and nothing happened for the rest of the night. Except for, you know, party stuff.<br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span>Luckily, aided by "Spring Ahead / FALL BACK," I gained an extra hour in the morning, and completed </span>“Demons.”</span></p><p><br /><span style="font-family: arial;">The clock mocked me.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Tick tock.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Tick tock.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Empty prescription bottles lay scattered across the floor, dwarfed by the equally exhausted vodka bottles.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">"A crockpot," they always whispered as I would wander down the street, engaged in animated arguments with ghosts. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Back, now, in my barren space, panic set in as my feet of rock began to sink in the quicksand, my descent aided by the Devil's claws dragging me under. Once the Demon has woken, no lullaby will stuff that genie back in the bottles.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Resigned, I reached for my last resort, and drew back the hammer. </span><br /></p><br /><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">I'm not sure what dark place that came from. Perhaps the same fatalism Janet was feeling. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p>Michael Seesehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03694187657718931214noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1629401484469925298.post-68955955221309315022020-11-01T19:00:00.028-05:002020-11-01T19:00:04.990-05:00Flash Friday: Real Life<p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">by Michael Seese</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Another dual-flash week. Tonight, I will share my latest <a href="https://flashfriday.wordpress.com/2020/10/30/fireice-sol-12-19/" target="_blank">Flash Friday story</a>, and tomorrow, <a href="https://jetreidliterary.blogspot.com/2020/10/flash-fiction-contest_30.html" target="_blank">100 words for Janet Reid</a>. (Actually, 98, think.) <br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">And I seem to recall I'm missing one or the other from last week.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">This week's Flash Friday asked us to use this picture,<br /></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv1pwkbb3DTwO4bf7ZxVnZ2b6yHx6_97CKr6y15V7Ra-dFvpfUqmfx1r8fupGzpVz9impB6S-i8ECe8zPwvfKVs-fQAqKW-oG_o8KaVgUPwUAuzUu-Ed0N91wLRAdcNCzVRTaTWtCLatr3/s759/759px-veranderende_rolpatronen_-_changing_role_patterns_3333358201.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="759" height="316" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv1pwkbb3DTwO4bf7ZxVnZ2b6yHx6_97CKr6y15V7Ra-dFvpfUqmfx1r8fupGzpVz9impB6S-i8ECe8zPwvfKVs-fQAqKW-oG_o8KaVgUPwUAuzUu-Ed0N91wLRAdcNCzVRTaTWtCLatr3/w400-h316/759px-veranderende_rolpatronen_-_changing_role_patterns_3333358201.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">and write at most 200 words that also included a dollmaker or a fugitive. I kicked around a bunch of ideas, but nothing came of it. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Then around 11:15, in the middle of watching reruns of the "Big Bang Theory," It hit me. Dead tired, I forged ahead, and posted it at 11:53, seven minutes before the deadline. Then, I rushed the dog out for her evening walk so I could get my 10,000 steps.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">The result is "Real Life."<br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-family: arial;">The curator's request seemed simple enough.<br /><br />"Make them lifelike."<br /><br />To the layman, it might sound straightforward. But delve into the specifics…<br /><br />The skin has to mix flexibility and resilience. It needs to be thick enough to withstand the slings and arrows the battles of life hurls at it, yet respond kindly to the touch of a loved one. <br /> <br />The eyes must be able to focus, laser-like, on the task at hand, yet have the foresight to gaze into the distance, searching the horizon for unseen traces of the future. <br /><br />Now let's talk about the gut for a minute. The gut needs to digest both critical nutrients and the truth, all the while serving as the ultimate arbiter of life's greatest decisions. <br /><br />And the heart. It has to remain a closed loop, efficiently delivering blood to the critical organs, yet be open enough to allow entrance to all who need a piece of it.<br /><br />Quite the challenge. <br /><br />In the end, I just decided it would be easier to just "borrow" a few of the specimens from our last foray to Earth, encase them in acrylic, and put them on display. </span><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span><br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">So far, I've gotten two nice comments from fellow bloggers. Results will be available tomorrow morning.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Now, I wonder if I have the energy to complete a <a href="https://weirdchristmas.com/2020/06/15/weird-christmas-flash-fiction-contest-3rd-annual-2020/" target="_blank">350-word Weird Christmas story</a>, due at midnight. </span><br /></p>Michael Seesehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03694187657718931214noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1629401484469925298.post-92171869658468761312020-10-19T06:56:00.045-04:002020-10-19T06:56:00.900-04:00Janet Flash: Where There's A Will....<p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">by Michael Seese</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">My <a href="https://flashfriday.wordpress.com/2020/10/16/fireice-sol-10-19/" target="_blank">Flash Friday</a> entry "<a href="http://michaelseese.blogspot.com/2020/10/flash-friday-con-dolore.html" target="_blank">Con Dolore</a>" complete, I turned my attention to the "<a href="https://jetreidliterary.blogspot.com/2020/10/nobody-moves-to-nyc-for-weather-flash.html" target="_blank">Nobody Moves to NYC for the Weather Flash Fiction Contest</a>," brain-writing it during a lunchtime jog with the dog. <br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">As Janet said:</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><i>We had about three weeks of the AC off but still warm enough to not need the heat. That changed a couple days ago, but the heat isn't on yet. So I'm wearing mittens, a hat, a scarf and my coat IN my apartment.<br /><br />In the afternoon it's warmer outside than in. Soon enough, I'll be throwing open the windows cause the steam heat will turn this place into an oven. Every winter I understand why people move to Florida. Not that I'm moving to Florida but I get it.</i><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Our words were:</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">cold<br />blue<br />shiver<br />sox (and yes, you MUST use this spelling. NO socks!)<br />fox<br /><br /><br />I wanted to use "sox" in a creative way, and came up with "It's Oxford." I originally imagined some tale of two bluebloods arguing about their college rivalry. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">But sometimes magic happens. In this case, I came up with the sentence "But only saints resist the twist of a shiv," and the story took a turn from there.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Magic, part 2... After writing that, I said, "Hey, SHIVer is one of our words." </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Without further ado, I give you "Where There's A Will...."</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /><br /><span style="font-family: arial;">"You graduated Cambridge, right?"</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br />"It's Oxford," he said coldly, steely eyes bluer than his blood.<br /> </span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">I knew full well the old fox was no Cantabrigian. But only saints resist the twist of a shiv.<br /> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">"<i>Erat quid demonsterdom</i>."<br /> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">"It's <i>quod erat demonstrandum</i>, you half-wit." <br /> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">I mulled a few choice piss-and-vinegar comebacks. But why pile on bloke when he's in a bind?<br /> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">"Look, mate, you're under the gun here."<br /> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">"What do you want?"<br /> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">"Just sign the will. Then you and the missus can go."<br /> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">The ink not yet dry, I pushed the shiv in to its hilt.<br /> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Something no sinner can resist</span>.<br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">I have this scheduled to post a few minutes before Janet posts her daily blog, usually around 7:00. She may or may not have the results today. (It's usually weekend-activity dependent.) So by the time you read this, it may (or may not) be a winner. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span><br /></p>Michael Seesehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03694187657718931214noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1629401484469925298.post-28358611076150112042020-10-18T16:46:00.031-04:002020-10-18T16:46:03.312-04:00Flash Friday: Con Dolore<p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">by Michael Seese</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Some days the words just flow. As has been the case on a couple of recent Fridays, there was both a Flash Friday and a Janet Reid flash fiction contest. And I managed to wrap up both before dinner. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">For the <a href="https://flashfriday.wordpress.com/2020/10/16/fireice-sol-10-19/" target="_blank">Flash Friday contest</a>, we were to work off this image</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQtWo-m9f54eVqrH0i5e7XkQuFrNPN3dy_ZBnsIY1LfnF0oxDhlLkC5LJ4Te1c51JCh927lclZpw9grnVzGSe3uLVZDyALoCrZndF1X9rJcT0Q5y_fncowRZ73KaejImR3Ckl2rR6ULeTW/s969/burmese_musicians_at_the_shwedagon_pagoda.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="712" data-original-width="969" height="294" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQtWo-m9f54eVqrH0i5e7XkQuFrNPN3dy_ZBnsIY1LfnF0oxDhlLkC5LJ4Te1c51JCh927lclZpw9grnVzGSe3uLVZDyALoCrZndF1X9rJcT0Q5y_fncowRZ73KaejImR3Ckl2rR6ULeTW/w400-h294/burmese_musicians_at_the_shwedagon_pagoda.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">and include a either student or include a road worker. And, exactly 89 words. <br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">I really don't remember what gave me the idea, but pretty quickly I had "Con Dolore" wrapped up and in the books.<br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">I'd paused to wipe the sweat from my brow when a chill, defying the heat, traversed my spine. A siren song—close in distance, distant in memory—bade me to drop my pick-axe and pursue the fluid notes to their fountainhead, despite the entreaties behind me, begging me not to wander.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><br />In a clearing sat a group of musicians, playing as one. Their faces conveyed the serenity I lost the day the soldiers came. <br /> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">I sang, momentarily happy.<br /> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-family: arial;">A sharp rifle retort punctuated the final note of our symphony.</span><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br />Early tomorrow, I will post the Janet entry, "Where There's A Will...."<br /></span></p>Michael Seesehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03694187657718931214noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1629401484469925298.post-59301181034279725412020-10-11T18:49:00.041-04:002020-10-11T18:49:00.179-04:00Flash Friday: The Pursuit<p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">by Michael Seese</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">With life just being so crazy of late, it's hard to find the time to write. (Or at least, as much time as I'd like to write.) The Flash Friday contests are a double-edged sword. Posted at midnight (when I should be in bed) the stories are due 24 hours later. So you've got to write quickly, and get it done; you can't linger. But with work, and dinner, and the dog, and relaxing....</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">So <a href="https://flashfriday.wordpress.com/2020/10/09/fireice-sol-9-19/" target="_blank">this week's entry</a> made it in just under the wire, with me dead tired. We were given this picture:</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik2H9HKtAvwSzo7lplph1vinIOMVe63Rr9Tr_4m1cxdtVSOhOQJ6EsZJUEea0sCO98QqSxO2MCA7BHWnJ1TrAK5BFnRQ-L0wWbBZUYO0ABq0ke00OtJSm_iyhbUUsZYxfXWwGKctyNNYD4/s1024/eternal_procession.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="683" data-original-width="1024" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik2H9HKtAvwSzo7lplph1vinIOMVe63Rr9Tr_4m1cxdtVSOhOQJ6EsZJUEea0sCO98QqSxO2MCA7BHWnJ1TrAK5BFnRQ-L0wWbBZUYO0ABq0ke00OtJSm_iyhbUUsZYxfXWwGKctyNNYD4/w400-h266/eternal_procession.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">and told to "write a genre that’s new to you). For example, but not limited to: fantasy, scifi, romance, mystery, western, comedy, crime, horror, or thriller (or any general audience subgenres of these examples)."</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Hmmm. I've pretty much much all of those. So I settled on something I call "The Pursuit," which I think I decided is "Paranormal fantasy." And for good measure, I wrote the story <a href="https://diymfa.com/reading/what-is-a-verse-novel#:~:text=A%20verse%20novel%20can%20only%20be%20written%20in,is%20still%20a%20poem%2C%20not%20a%20verse%20novel." target="_blank">in verse</a>. <br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">I laid <br />on my back and prayed <br />to Callisto above:<br />"Please, dear goddess. Please help requite my love. <br />I have spent my life pursuing her grace,<br />worshiping from afar, never witnessing her face.<br />I wish no more than to savor her skin.<br />Pay no heed to those calling it sin."<br />Fingers crossed, did she see my lie?<br />The goddess, crossed, her icy reply:<br />"It is not love of which you wax poetic.<br />No! You are a liar! Pathetic.<br />Were your goal to feed your family,<br />I might find a dram of sympathy. <br />But you hunt only for the thrill,<br />bloodlust satisfied by the kill."<br />I felt the need<br />to answer her charge of basic greed.<br />"No!" I protested, "my intentions are sincere. <br />I want no more than the chance to be near." <br />Her smile dripped of irony.<br />"Very well. You shall have your destiny."<br />And thus my pursuit of the elusive gazelle, alone <br />captured for eternity, forever etched in stone.</span><br /><br /></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">In hindsight, I wish I had written the last two lines more like:</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-family: arial;">And thus captured for eternity, forever etched in stone <br /></span></span><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-family: arial;">my pursuit of the elusive gazelle, alone</span></span>.</span> <br /></span></p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">And perhaps, even using "unknown" as the final word.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Oh well, I can always change it if I submit it elsewhere. <br /></span></p><br />Michael Seesehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03694187657718931214noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1629401484469925298.post-72195056611115887612020-10-05T19:03:00.003-04:002020-10-05T19:03:00.422-04:00Flash Friday: Life 2.0<p><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><span style="font-size: large;">by Michael Seese</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">(Somehow I forgot to hit the "publish" button on Saturday. So this post SHOULD have been before yesterday's.) </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">As I mentioned in </span><a href="http://michaelseese.blogspot.com/2020/10/flash-friday-afire.html" style="font-family: georgia;" target="_blank">my post on Thursday</a><span style="font-family: georgia;">, I knew a busy week of flash was forthcoming. So, I'm please to say "one down, and two to go." (Actually, it's two down, since I've already written </span><a href="https://jetreidliterary.blogspot.com/2020/10/flash-fiction-contest.html" style="font-family: georgia;" target="_blank">my Janet Reid piece</a><span style="font-family: georgia;">, and will post it tomorrow.)</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">In <a href="https://flashfriday.wordpress.com/2020/10/02/fireice-sol-8-19/" target="_blank">this week's Flash Friday</a>! our mission was to build on this picture:</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHfbQRns9cHjzJzNvEA9bYT4KT7KV1udqYdzfEcw_OgCGcze-iNzc-C7umefKzuvclcX1meXKS4sZoNqOqOFotge0gkTMqyly2vKRc3-sv8kSS-0bdsdaKd-mleWxukDiZG_iX3lx1GAym/s960/boat-5433223_960_720.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="627" data-original-width="960" height="261" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHfbQRns9cHjzJzNvEA9bYT4KT7KV1udqYdzfEcw_OgCGcze-iNzc-C7umefKzuvclcX1meXKS4sZoNqOqOFotge0gkTMqyly2vKRc3-sv8kSS-0bdsdaKd-mleWxukDiZG_iX3lx1GAym/w400-h261/boat-5433223_960_720.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">and write up to 200 words about an inventor, or a conspiracy theorist. I contemplated the image of a weathered boat on a beach, and thought about what an inventor would do to get there. My mind began tumbling over big ideas, which led me to "Life 2.0." </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><p></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /><span style="font-family: arial;">They said it couldn't be done. I proved them wrong.<br /><br />A simple carpenter, I'd never asked for more than an opportunity to earn a living. Then I heard the call.<br /><br />I labored, day and night, beneath the sun's might and the torches’ light.<br /><br />The naysayers gathered outside my home to enjoy the spectacle. Mocking me became a sport, of sorts.<br /><br />"Not a cloud in the sky."<br /><br />"Two of each? Do us a favor. Leave the skunks behind."<br /><br />The ark finished, my family and I gathered our wards, huddling in the dark for seven nights, the unrelenting jeers outside our lullabies. The torrent, on the seventeenth day of the second month, drowned out their vitriol.<br /><br />Afloat, asea, we rode the whims of the currents for one week, two weeks…<br /><br />On the 28th day, one of the animals took sick. The plague spread throughout the ship. The animals overcame it. My family did not.<br /><br />Two days later, we made landfall.<br /><br />Now, sitting on the unforgiving beach, I watch nature reduce my ark, and me, to our bare bones. Yet I find a small measure of comfort knowing that animals will some day reclaim the Earth. Alas, not so the human animal.</span><br /><br /><br /><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">I like it. It's fun in an overbearing, bombastic sort of way. </span></p><p><br /></p>Michael Seesehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03694187657718931214noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1629401484469925298.post-29933878398500364092020-10-04T18:27:00.003-04:002020-10-04T18:27:00.218-04:00Janet Flash: Fall-down Comedy<p> </p><p><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><span style="font-size: large;">by Michael Seese</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">In a display of what I assume is mid-COVID ennui, literary agent Janet Reid proclaimed herself "so ready for the end of this week," and some "lollygagging." <br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">That led to the (not officially named) "Lollygagger Contest." </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGSrN1ZZXjqWGPha-5IMZXskiZdLK66zsQAVeww2ATmUQmuD4PBHb3cqAdAqonB6RoCMOU1KaiIHqhoNmDqkRGJyGEZztLg6KTsj1yi9zpwcqRejrHSTaEUkA517iGahZTn11Blklf_quc/s1280/lollygagger.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="692" data-original-width="1280" height="216" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGSrN1ZZXjqWGPha-5IMZXskiZdLK66zsQAVeww2ATmUQmuD4PBHb3cqAdAqonB6RoCMOU1KaiIHqhoNmDqkRGJyGEZztLg6KTsj1yi9zpwcqRejrHSTaEUkA517iGahZTn11Blklf_quc/w400-h216/lollygagger.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">(In case you don't recognize the image, that's the <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cDaFcQJC4z8&feature=emb_logo" target="_blank">Lollygaggers scene</a> from "Bull Durham.") <br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">We needed to use the words:</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">loll<br />sprawl<br />snore<br />more<br />plot<br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">in our 100-word story. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">I immediate thought about break "loll" into "LOL! (something). And I pretty quickly hit upon the idea of "Fall-down Comedy." <br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Nervous hands fumbling with the microphone, I thanked grace that owing to the venue, they couldn't see the fear sprawled across my face.<br /> </span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-family: arial;">I cleared my throat.<br /> </span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-family: arial;">"Good evening, folks. So... anyone here from out of town?" <br /> </span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Silence. <br /> </span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Apparently, irony doesn't translate well. <br /> </span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-family: arial;">"I feel good. I've spent weeks training for this," I said, flexing my thumbs. <br /> </span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-family: arial;">More silence, the wickedest of marplots.<br /> </span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Then the heckling started.<br /> </span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-family: arial;">"Could this be more boring?"<br />"I wish you could hear me snore."<br />"LOL! LOSER!"</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br />I hastily switched off the phone, thus ending my first—and last—foray into the world of SMS stand-up.</span><br /><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Sometimes the serious ones resonate with her, and sometimes the funny ones do. We'll see what this week brings. <br /></span></p><br /><p><br /></p>Michael Seesehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03694187657718931214noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1629401484469925298.post-43486316160392315272020-10-01T22:04:00.001-04:002020-10-01T22:04:19.477-04:00Flash Friday: Afire<p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">by Michael Seese</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">I wanted to catch up on <a href="https://flashfriday.wordpress.com/2020/09/25/fireice-sol-7-19/" target="_blank">last week's Flash Friday</a>, as there will be another tomorrow. And perhaps there will be a Janet flash contest as well. (And just today I learned of an Australian flash fiction contest which posts its prompt on the first Friday of every month. So I'm gearing up for that one as well.) </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">For <a href="https://flashfriday.wordpress.com/2020/09/25/fireice-sol-7-19/" target="_blank">this week's contest</a>, we were given this photo</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdIS0t6Lx8uZBJmRRzhbcP2oamY90tfF-xYf1dqQULdoIgheW8CJdKn6YtHDEbzQHO0EFOyLcZbA6Om8qHA67oMjIlBHYcYtwWeHaRAP5VuXWZtbmO7a0ZWYDfneDP4h1Qlfvc23eL_Vad/s1024/nizhny_novgorod_eternal_flame_03.webp" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="680" data-original-width="1024" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdIS0t6Lx8uZBJmRRzhbcP2oamY90tfF-xYf1dqQULdoIgheW8CJdKn6YtHDEbzQHO0EFOyLcZbA6Om8qHA67oMjIlBHYcYtwWeHaRAP5VuXWZtbmO7a0ZWYDfneDP4h1Qlfvc23eL_Vad/w400-h265/nizhny_novgorod_eternal_flame_03.webp" width="400" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">to use in a story, between 190 and 199 words, and include an act of justice or an act of mercy. <br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">I had a REALLY busy day last Friday. But...</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">My son asked me to drive him to a friend's house, about 15-20 minutes away. Heading home, I brain-wrote nearly 300 words. So then I had to severely edit it down. But the end result was "Afire."<br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-family: arial;">The men with the guns and the iron chains came and raped my village. My wife, my children, me. They threw us on filthy ships and stole us to America, then tore all I had left away from me. In the still of night, amidst the others’ sobs, I would light a fire to honor their memory, and pray that some day there would be justice in the world. <br /> </span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-family: arial;">The Nazis came and dragged us from our beds. In the camps, we spent four years starving, suffering, dying. My mother, my father, my sister didn't make it out. I did. And every year, on the anniversary, I lit a fire to honor their memory, and prayed that some day there would be justice in the world.<br /> </span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-family: arial;">One sunny afternoon, I stood, helpless, as the police officer pressed his knee into the back of a man's neck, and held it there until he died. The opportunists hijacked our righteous anger to burn and plunder. In the privacy of my home, I lit a fire to honor his memory, and prayed that some day there would be justice in the world.<br /> </span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-family: arial;">There is no justice yet.<br /> </span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Just a world ablaze.</span><br /><br /><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Though it didn't win, <a href="https://flashfriday.wordpress.com/2020/09/28/fireice-sol-7-19-winners/" target="_blank">one judge noted</a>, "Mark King‘s 'Where Her Soul Goes to Walk' was an important, excellent, and moving commentary on race relations and the lives of marginalised people, as was 'Afire' by Michael Seese – powerful and meaningful work, a privilege to read."</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">I'm not exaggerating when I say I'm thrilled by each and every kudo. <br /></span></p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Let's see what happens tomorrow. <br /></span><p><br /></p>Michael Seesehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03694187657718931214noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1629401484469925298.post-63017186850543107082020-09-20T21:23:00.002-04:002020-09-20T21:23:43.346-04:00Flash Friday: Hom(p)eless<p><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: large;">by Michael Seese</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">I'm happy to report I was able to get a <a href="https://flashfriday.wordpress.com/2020/09/18/fireice-sol-6-19/" target="_blank">Flash Friday! entry</a> posted this week, despite</span><span style="font-family: georgia;"> being dead tired. (Life is hard.) </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">We were given this picture</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzmgNrH7yem2-UJFWiE-BRpuo7SIf6SgBsQ58-oATf8M_jx2GBnsj40OvD5vO-mX8l9k4GiiLf0gRl3Ofo-uc5Clfxjtye7gCNBJhOvMapJn-dOizH6wdPuWh-RDZIm_D24PGZlq01d6Y6/s1024/train-2373323.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="683" data-original-width="1024" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzmgNrH7yem2-UJFWiE-BRpuo7SIf6SgBsQ58-oATf8M_jx2GBnsj40OvD5vO-mX8l9k4GiiLf0gRl3Ofo-uc5Clfxjtye7gCNBJhOvMapJn-dOizH6wdPuWh-RDZIm_D24PGZlq01d6Y6/w400-h266/train-2373323.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">and asked to write an exactly 93-word story that included either an animal or a plant. I considered something like "Ficus and I rode the train home..." about a man who had gotten fired, and was taking his possessions home from the office. Then I morphed into thinking about a literal animal, like a seeing-eye dog. But then I hit on the idea of a figurative dog, and from that idea came "</span><span style="font-family: georgia;">Hom(p)eless</span><span style="font-family: georgia;">."</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">My "bed" smells like their asses. The designer soap scented weekday warriors in Armani armor, riding the iron steed into battle against their corporate dragons.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">But the gentle rhythmic sway allows me the luxury of dreaming I'm floating free, a capricious sailboat navigating gentle seas. The lingering Chanel n°5, I imagine are hibiscus blossoms adorning the head of a tropical beauty.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Alas, my blissful dream withers under morning's glare. I gather my tattered things and take refuge in a dark corner, like a whipped cur which, in their unforgiving eyes, I truly am.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Kinda sad. But I do like the imagery. Tomorrow, we'll learn what the judges thought.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">And, I hope neither I, nor any of my friends, find myself in his position. </span></p><p><br /></p>Michael Seesehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03694187657718931214noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1629401484469925298.post-16677029821541996672020-09-13T23:30:00.001-04:002020-09-13T23:30:44.462-04:00Flash Friday: The Tree Of Life<p><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: large;">by Michael Seese</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">So, it PAINS me to say that I missed the previous two Flash Friday contests. I had ideas. But life intruded, and I didn't have the time to see them through.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">I vowed to NOT let that happen again. And I delivered. <br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><a href="https://flashfriday.wordpress.com/2020/09/11/fireice-sol-5-19/" target="_blank">This week's contest</a> gave us this picture.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSt5zScMQQ05j77-N6NToAW0720eOZUSs6t2NunZo5lsVsO2nz7_AI4oA5AeWs03c2aCtk7U3dW0IR4_7bdaKAZyWX9tTi6dYVY2LfeORw-OeDjcNlonKTTL3clsCzlLqwF2ONYU2CaHdP/s2048/a_yoruba_bride_and_mother.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1365" data-original-width="2048" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSt5zScMQQ05j77-N6NToAW0720eOZUSs6t2NunZo5lsVsO2nz7_AI4oA5AeWs03c2aCtk7U3dW0IR4_7bdaKAZyWX9tTi6dYVY2LfeORw-OeDjcNlonKTTL3clsCzlLqwF2ONYU2CaHdP/w400-h266/a_yoruba_bride_and_mother.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">And tasked us with writing a story between 150 and 16o words. The basic idea came pretty quickly, and I fleshed it out while making dinner. Below is "The Tree Of Life."</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><span><br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><span>The best-kept secrets are those we bury deep. Preferably, on a moonless night, under the watchful eye of the Priestess.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><span>And just as she predicted, fortune delivered to us salvation.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><span>We fed him.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><span>We swaddled him in silk.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><span>We sang for him.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><span>Near nightfall, he asked the question we knew was forthcoming.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><span>"By the way, where are the men?"</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><span>"The men?"</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><span>"Yes. I've not seen one yet."</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><span>The Priestess explained. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><span>"Years ago, one of our elders angered a warlock. He cursed this village, fating every male child born here to die at the next new moon. He thought he'd won. I cast a spell upon his body. Then we buried him. From his soul sprang a tree. That tree over there. Its fruit, upon ripening, yields babies. Female babies. That's why you see no men." </span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><span>"Fascinating. Though I'm afraid the tree appears to have died."</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-family: arial;">"Yes, it has. So the time for us has come to plant a new seedling."</span><br /><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">The results will be shared tomorrow. </span></p>Michael Seesehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03694187657718931214noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1629401484469925298.post-46534206796722394722020-08-22T18:30:00.001-04:002020-08-22T18:30:03.163-04:00Flash Friday: A Quiet Revolution<p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">by Michael Seese</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Week 2 of the return of Flash Friday. <a href="https://flashfriday.wordpress.com/2020/08/21/fireice-sol-2-19-2/" target="_blank">This week</a>, our prompt photo was this striking image.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoLLOZT06phNsy7tDs5jdlGMHU7eVsBIk-_CHkcg42S0sW1458SZ-00C3Y8bA8xSiRTZvEaAdruaL5VnWOS8z1MckyDo3ZYx8atWNTcSYwKNykOpl-3wp12-4N4_uFx5FSZ2Ll8T4LrCAA/s1024/2014_01_khao_tom_pla_uttaradit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="1024" height="384" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoLLOZT06phNsy7tDs5jdlGMHU7eVsBIk-_CHkcg42S0sW1458SZ-00C3Y8bA8xSiRTZvEaAdruaL5VnWOS8z1MckyDo3ZYx8atWNTcSYwKNykOpl-3wp12-4N4_uFx5FSZ2Ll8T4LrCAA/w512-h384/2014_01_khao_tom_pla_uttaradit.jpg" width="512" /></a></div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Our story had to be exactly 75 words, and incorporate either a revolutionary, or a droid. (Yeah, we had a lot of sci-fi this time around.)</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">But I liked the quiet calm of the photo and wrote -- in one sitting -- and wrote “A Quiet Revolution”</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /><span style="font-family: arial;">Narrow minds believe revolutions must begin with a BANG. Khao Tom knew they could arise from a <i>hush</i>.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /><i>Sssh</i>.<br /> </span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><i>Sssh</i>.<br /> </span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><i>Sssh</i>.<br /> </span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-family: arial;">The sound of rice sifting into paper bags filled the silence of his shop. One by one they accepted his grace, nodded their respect, and hurried home to feed hungry families.<br />When the last had left, Khao Tom stared at the few grains remaining for <i>his</i> dinner.<br /> </span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-family: arial;">"The war is just beginning," he said. <br /></span><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Judges' decisions on Monday. </span></p><br />Michael Seesehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03694187657718931214noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1629401484469925298.post-25942773149835946942020-08-17T18:00:00.041-04:002020-08-17T18:00:01.199-04:00Janet Flash: Skipping Time<p><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">by Michael Seese</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">To honor the eponymous birthday of one of her loyal "reiders," Steve Forti, Janet Reid offered up the "<a href="https://jetreidliterary.blogspot.com/2020/08/is-that-steve-forti-i-see-over-hill.html" target="_blank">Is That Steve Forti I See Over The Hill Flash Fiction Contest</a>," using the words:</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> <br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Fort<br />Sort<br />Tort<br />Wort<br />Yurt <br /><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">We also had to begin with the phrase (no word penalty) "Happy Birthday Steve Forti you word wrangler you." <br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">The idea came to me pretty quickly, and everything, save for "sort" just fell into place. And so I share with you, "Skipping Time." <br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><br />"What happened?" asks the old man.<br /> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">One minute I'm playing in sofa-cushion forts. The next I'm plying assorted civil torts.<br /> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">One minute I'm getting under girl's skirts. The next I'm fretting over my net worth.<br /> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">One minute, I'm a hip rock-and-roll singer. The next, shaky hands slip a ring on her finger.<br /> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">One minute I'm scolded for running wild. The next I'm holding my child.<br /> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">One minute I'm meditating in a yurt, alone. The next I'm evaluating nursing homes.<br /> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Someone I don't recognize stares back from the mirror. <br />The boy in the fort whispers, "I wish I were still here."<br /><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">I'm pretty proud of it. And, not to get ahead of myself, but two of my previous winners followed that same format of...skipping-ahead linear progression, I suppose. We'll see in a day or so whether Janet liked it. <br /></span></p><br />Michael Seesehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03694187657718931214noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1629401484469925298.post-65049535581051486732020-08-16T19:00:00.033-04:002020-08-16T19:00:05.995-04:00Flash Friday: Just Beneath The Surface<p><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">by Michael Seese</span></span></p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Years ago (back in 2015; I looked it up) I used to regularly take part in a flash fiction contest called "Flash Friday." The sponsor, Rebekah Postupak, would prompt us with an image, or a phrase, and gives a targeted word count range. Said another way, Janet Reid's contests are 100 or fewer; Flash Friday would say, "170 - 180."<br /></span><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Then it went on hiatus. But now it's back, for 19 weeks, she says. <br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><a href="https://flashfriday.wordpress.com/2020/08/14/fireice-sol-1-19/" target="_blank">Week 1 of 19</a> gave us this picture:</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKBtZ9rXZfqHbmbW4eqIRxY4-If2Qn3Y_RfNpgzkITuc1GBoSuZQFwwR0N7-mRu4PsnRTrbT6rjJgDBrpOsLa1s6wOYSuhIxuZP631lYj5Rkj83d1PLQOyNQ4XWsfl51XgZrOqwbtTnpe6/s966/800px-hope_bay-2016-trinity_peninsulae28093arena_glacier_03.webp" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="966" data-original-width="768" height="512" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKBtZ9rXZfqHbmbW4eqIRxY4-If2Qn3Y_RfNpgzkITuc1GBoSuZQFwwR0N7-mRu4PsnRTrbT6rjJgDBrpOsLa1s6wOYSuhIxuZP631lYj5Rkj83d1PLQOyNQ4XWsfl51XgZrOqwbtTnpe6/w407-h512/800px-hope_bay-2016-trinity_peninsulae28093arena_glacier_03.webp" width="407" /></a></div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">and asked us to use the "idea" of either something in the air, or in the water.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">The opening line immediately came to me, but at first, I was going to apply the story to the folks in the boat. And then...</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Please enjoy "Just Beneath The Surface." <br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Cannibalism is a measure of last resort. But desperation drives the unthinkable.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br />"What kind of monster would even consider it?" I mumbled, swimming in the darkest depths of self-loathing.<br /> </span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-family: arial;">A mother's love is fraught with peril. My babies' empty bellies and sunken eyes cut me far more deeply than their silent tears, tears which disappeared in the chilly brine. I found myself teetering unsteadily between unfathomable hope and abject realism. Without food, the three of us would not live much longer. Altruism demanded I sacrifice myself to the future. To their future. But they were so young. Could they survive without me? <br /> </span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Their pain...<br />My hunger...<br /> </span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Perhaps I could kill two birds with one stone, as it were.<br /> </span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Then came manna from above. A boat of tourists, happily chatting, cameras snapping, exploring the wilds of Antarctica. <br /> </span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Oh, they'll see the wild all right. Up close and personal. <br /> </span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-family: arial;">"Come children," I said. "It's feeding time. To the surface."</span><br /><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">I'm pretty happy with it. Results will be published tomorrow. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">And ALSO tomorrow, I will post my entry for this weekend's Janet Reid contest. <br /></span></p><br /><p><br /></p>Michael Seesehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03694187657718931214noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1629401484469925298.post-41037905256585178072020-08-15T18:30:00.084-04:002020-08-15T18:30:01.504-04:00Janet Flash: Toad Torture<p><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">by Michael Seese</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">So, here comes a flurry of flash... <br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">After last week's "Particularly Diabolical" (later downgraded to merely diabolical) Flash Fiction Contest, Janet Reid upped the game with a <a href="https://jetreidliterary.blogspot.com/2020/08/the-super-diabolical-flash-fiction.html" target="_blank">SUPER </a><a href="https://jetreidliterary.blogspot.com/2020/08/the-super-diabolical-flash-fiction.html" target="_blank">Diabolical </a></span><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><a href="https://jetreidliterary.blogspot.com/2020/08/the-super-diabolical-flash-fiction.html" target="_blank">Flash Fiction Contest</a>. We were challenged, under penalty of death, or something, to use: </span><br /></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">cafeteria (Casual-T)<br />supine (C. Dan Castro)<br />chonky (Terri Lynn Coop)<br />vital (Lennon Faris)<br />toad-in-a-hole (Brigid)</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">in a 100-word story. Apparently, toad-in-the-hole is British cuisine, an oxymoron in and of itself. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtaBXExdpA4Nx_YTW8RWTyIJKUXHEW_BW6fQtHMKn76x6ei5-W9hZKb1PH7nylhvPhGtqnWUHTKYRKP77DEu5h0jgp8RPwu6ap0uDRQbZmUEoPlH-306IlYLFPauhLBOWpH19FNiha1gcG/s1960/ToadInAHole.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1960" height="226" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtaBXExdpA4Nx_YTW8RWTyIJKUXHEW_BW6fQtHMKn76x6ei5-W9hZKb1PH7nylhvPhGtqnWUHTKYRKP77DEu5h0jgp8RPwu6ap0uDRQbZmUEoPlH-306IlYLFPauhLBOWpH19FNiha1gcG/s640/ToadInAHole.jpg" width="555" /></a></div> <p></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">But I didn't know that, and didn't care, as I immediately locked onto the word with another idea in mind. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> And so I give you "Toad Torture." </span><br /></p><p><br /><span style="font-family: arial;">"Toad-in-a-hole." </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><br />"I'm sorry. What?" </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><br />"We cram a chonky toad into one of their holes. Like, a nostril. Or an ear. Or, my preferred cavit—" </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><br />"A little extreme."</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><br />Some ideas deserve to die. And some ideas should be murdered. With malice.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><br />"What if we let them pick the orifice? You know, cafeteria style."</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><br />"No!"</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><br />"Fine. Here's another. We tie them down, supine, get a frog—" </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><br />"Thank you. I'll be in touch."</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><br />Three months, two days.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><br />Three months, two days until I retire from my position as Minister Of Torture. Then I can return to my true calling as a literary agent.<br /></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">I had wanted to end with "true calling as <i>New York Times</i> crossword puzzle editor," but the word count was just too much. And, I played to the audience.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">It didn't win, though it <a href="https://jetreidliterary.blogspot.com/2020/08/super-diabolical-flash-fiction-contest.html" target="_blank">made the long list</a>, with the comment:</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><i>"And some ideas should be murdered. With malice."<br />I may have this printed on my business cards. </i><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">I knew she'd like that one. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Tomorrow: The return of Flash Friday! </span><br /></p><p><br />https://jetreidliterary.blogspot.com/2020/08/the-super-diabolical-flash-fiction.html<br /></p>Michael Seesehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03694187657718931214noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1629401484469925298.post-1227960957728735842020-08-04T19:30:00.000-04:002020-08-04T19:30:04.606-04:00Janet Flash: Smelling Blood<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">by Michael Seese</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">It's August. It's hot. It's humid. (Though it's cooled off the past few days.) </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">So agent Janet Reid lamented, "Nothing to be done but torment writers with a particularly diabolical flash fiction contest!</span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">So for this week's <a href="https://jetreidliterary.blogspot.com/2020/07/the-particularly-diabolical-flash.html" target="_blank">Particularly Diabolical Flash Fiction Contest</a>, she asked us to use the words:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">fopdoodle (a simpleton, or fool)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">stickler </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Requin (French for shark)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">timpani </span><br />
<span style="font-family: georgia, "times new roman", serif;">regale </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">in a 100-word story. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqX9WQcO7JvIZsA-F4B-coU42kb1ZbuAaQckaZJLQeioloMIPZTMBNZVn2Zic3rKixbQgUMSxb4NSLT1nAcVk_QWhdZ2xD0WVeHeiHzD9nKTH3i9aIDZ1TdW7E00HhLXUPUyAQYRuibU1U/s1600/shark%2521%2521.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="106" data-original-width="114" height="371" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqX9WQcO7JvIZsA-F4B-coU42kb1ZbuAaQckaZJLQeioloMIPZTMBNZVn2Zic3rKixbQgUMSxb4NSLT1nAcVk_QWhdZ2xD0WVeHeiHzD9nKTH3i9aIDZ1TdW7E00HhLXUPUyAQYRuibU1U/s400/shark%2521%2521.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: georgia, "times new roman", serif;">I imagined an old fool hunting a shark, and concocted fairly quickly "Smelling Blood."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: georgia, "times new roman", serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: georgia, "times new roman", serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The Franco-fopdoodle tottering on his barstool waved a cautionary half-finger as he regaled a raft of downtrodden sots.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">"I tried to stick <i>le requin</i>, how you say, shark, with my harpoon. But she escaped, and now could be anywhere."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I snorted skepticism. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">"<i>C'est vrai!</i> Tell him, Timpani."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">"It's Tiffani," she said, topping his scotch.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">"Take care, <i>mon ami</i>. She is close. Watching. Waiting. Hoping to taste blood again."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">"Sure, pal. Hey, honey," I said to Tiffani, "Another, please. Seriously, does <i>anyone</i> believe that guy's stories?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">"Lucky for me, almost no one," she said, flashing row upon row of razor teeth.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I'm pretty happy with it, though I wish I had said "pearly razors" instead of "razor teeth." </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The results are not yet in, so keep your fingers crossed. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
Michael Seesehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03694187657718931214noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1629401484469925298.post-83663974164470251112020-08-01T18:58:00.000-04:002020-08-01T18:58:00.140-04:00Janet Flash: (No) Escape<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">by Michael Seese</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Just catching up from last week. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">For being chastised by a "Reider" for her use of or "less" rather than "fewer," Janet Reid <a href="https://jetreidliterary.blogspot.com/2020/07/flash-fiction-writingn-contest.html" target="_blank">challenged us to write a 100-word story</a> using:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">few<br />phew<br />flue<br />flew<br />tsk</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I was trying to somehow break up flue into something like:</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">"I have the flu."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Ewww!"</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">But then I realized that "flue" is contained within the word "affluent," and the third sentence basically fell into place. Though I had to think a while to come up with nePHEW.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">And so I present "(No) Escape."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">We're "lucky." We're alive. Yet it's killing me, knowing my nephew and I were among the affluent few who secured seats, and flew away from it.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br />As the inferno grew behind us, he turned to me. <br /> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">"What about the people back there?"<br /> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">"Gone," I said, with necessary pragmatism.<br /> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">"Mom? Dad?"<br /> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">"They caught the flight before us."<br /> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">How <i>does </i>one tell a boy he's an orphan at 12? That the world he's known is gone. That our new "home" also might be cinders. That radiation, starvation would be constant threats.<br /> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The bomb in my carry-on ensured I would not have to.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Michael Seesehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03694187657718931214noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1629401484469925298.post-55176321946555449972020-07-24T19:00:00.000-04:002020-07-24T19:00:03.929-04:00Janet Flash: A Deal With The Devil(s)<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">by Michael Seese</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I just remembered I owed you my catch-up from the <a href="https://jetreidliterary.blogspot.com/2020/07/flash-fiction-contest.html" target="_blank">July 3 Janet Reid flash fiction contest</a>. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">In this case, i</span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">nstead of prompt words, we were to use one (or more) of three prompt sentences, provided by blog followers (in a different contest, if memory serves).</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">"When you spot an orchid cactus at the grocery store, you bring it home." —<i>Luralee</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Do the laundry or die!" —<i>french sojourn</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Holy cow, that's a lot of empties." —<i>nightmusic</i></span><br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">That last one just spoke to me, though it took me a while to come up with the "A Deal With The Devil(s)."</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The off-gray three-piece pinstripe, welded to his eternally hollow core, glummed through the door. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">"BUZZ!" blared the beleaguered buzzer.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">"RED!" flashed the fidgety light.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">"Negative!" called out the monitor, counting the days left until infinity. "Next."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Practiced smile plastered to her vacated visage, the pastel pantsuit waved involuntarily to imaginary followers in corporeal form as she lilted through the scanner.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">"Another negative!"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">"Holy cow, that's a lot of empties. I don't get it. Where are their souls?" asked the minion in red.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">"My bad. And that's the last time I make a bulk deal with the Congress," muttered Satan. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">In hindsight, I'm not too happy with the last sentence. I wish I had written</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">"Holy cow, that's a lot of empties. I don't get it. Where are their souls?" asked the minion in red.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Satan sighed, singing the minion's fur. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">"My bad. That's the last time I make a bulk deal with the Congress." </span><br />
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Oh well. I still made the <a href="https://jetreidliterary.blogspot.com/2020/07/flash-fiction-contest-results.html" target="_blank">long list</a>.<br /></span>Michael Seesehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03694187657718931214noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1629401484469925298.post-4407141765769599092020-07-19T18:00:00.000-04:002020-07-19T18:00:05.958-04:00Janet Flash: Currency Events<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">by Michael Seese</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">A few weeks back, agent Janet Reid posted a flash fiction contest that employed a prompt outside of her standard "use these 5 words" requirement. I entered, but didn't get a chance to post here, because of my busy mid-COVID life. I'll rectify that in a few days. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Last Friday, she gave us <a href="https://jetreidliterary.blogspot.com/2020/07/flash-fiction-contest-inspired-by-bears.html" target="_blank">another alt-contest</a>. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">After a recent <a href="https://jetreidliterary.blogspot.com/2020/07/hello-bear.html" target="_blank">blog entry showing a bear in someone's back yard</a>, one of Janet's followers posted</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I’m guessing this story didn’t run in the Flathead Beacon Police Blotter. With items like, “The golfer on the sixth green at a local course turned out to be a black bear,” it’s one of my favorite newsfeed subscriptions.</span></i><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Janet thought it would be fun to have a contest asking us to write an item for <a href="https://flatheadbeacon.com/section/police-blotter/" target="_blank">Flathead Beacon Police Blotter</a>. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Being a former newsman and police beat reporter, I figured this was in my wheelhouse. But I couldn't find the inspiration Friday or Saturday. Then, with the 9:00 a.m. Sunday deadline looming, lying in bed at 7:30 I composed "Currency Events."</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Local noted numismatist Penelope "Penny" Reed died yesterday in the parlor of her Roosevelt Avenue home. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br />Police suspect foul play to be involved, as Ms. Reed’s body was discovered with 96 Morgan Dollars crammed into her mouth. No other weapons were found, as Ms. Reed was widely known to have an abnormal fear of hammers, baseball bats, tubas, and other blunt instruments. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br />According to Police Chief Lincoln Nichols, "Clearly the killer understood the old adage. If you can't beat 'em, coin 'em."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br />Services will be held at the Washington and Jefferson Funeral Home.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The trick was to come up with the punchline, and then work my way back. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Enjoy the rest of your hot, muggy (here, at least) Sunday.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"></span><br />
<br />Michael Seesehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03694187657718931214noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1629401484469925298.post-26368849635400429292020-05-26T21:49:00.001-04:002020-05-26T21:49:07.736-04:00Janet Flash: Eggasperation<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">by Michael Seese</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">With the world on lockdown, what is there to do? For some, re-discovering the joy of cooking is an option. Or learning something new about cooking, like "How To Boil Water." (Correctly, being the issue, I suppose.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Super agent Janet Reid, an avowed lover of the <i>101 Things I Learned...</i> series, decided to create <a href="http://jetreidliterary.blogspot.com/2020/05/lets-get-cookin-flash-fiction-contest.html" target="_blank">a flash fiction contest</a> to mark the Second Edition of <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Things-Learned%C2%AE-Culinary-School-Second-ebook/dp/B07TZCHN6G/ref=sr_1_1?crid=2LTF2BSOOZ17M&dchild=1&keywords=101+things+i+learned+in+culinary+school&qid=1590543325&sprefix=101+things+i+learned+in+culin%2Caps%2C205&sr=8-1" target="_blank"><i>101 Things I Learned in Culinary School</i></a>. (Ergo, the aforementioned boiling water reference.)</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://m.media-amazon.com/images/I/31O4CGjBGJL.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="358" data-original-width="500" height="286" src="https://m.media-amazon.com/images/I/31O4CGjBGJL.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The recipe called for us to use: </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">bread<br />chef</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">egg<br />knife<br />salt</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">in a 100-word short story. I wanted to split up chef, and tried ideas like "the leech effect." But I couldn't come up with anything around that, or other word combos. So finally, while walking the dog late Saturday night I came up with "eggsistential," and used that to write "Eggasperation."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br />Both my coffee cup and stomach effiercingly barren, I willed my eyes to force down the next stale morsel of "knowledge."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br />"Jean-Paul Salt, a close friend of Francis Bacon, examines man's true eggsistential dilemma in his classic work..."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br />My red pen adorned and scorned the top of the page with a scarlet letter F.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br />"Consider Occam's Butter Knife, a bread-and-grape-jelly example of…"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br />I rubbed my own bleary eyes, and dashed off a quick missive. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /><i>Dear Dean HAMmond, <br />I would like to respectfully request that, going forward, the university schedule Philosophy 101 at some time other than 8:00 a.m.</i></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">How about you? What new skills are you learning these days? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>Michael Seesehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03694187657718931214noreply@blogger.com0