Corrosion: Friday Fictioneers August 3

Home from vacating for a couple days.  Free-write 100 words prompted by photo as follows (thanks to Friday Fictioneers / Madison Woods instigations/inspirations.  Please join)

The trouble is corrosive.  Is rank.  I do not say what you think I say.  I do not say what you say I say.  I hear you wrong.  Rot.  You love taking pictures of ruins.  I love the effects of rust.  On iron.  On rock.  The meal of erosion is slow.  Don’t yell.  Things erase when we turn our heads.  Eyes such enormous editors.  My ears confuse wind with anger.  What you think is running water is something else.  Is sobbing.  Are tears.  Words are constructed of contexts.  Are hints and withers.  What accrues is corrosive.  Is gentle.  Is fierce.

N Filbert 2012

Holy Longing

First Love in 79 words (+ commentary by Papa)

What begins in desire, for Therese, is experienced as yearning, vague and fierce and embodied.  Like smoke writhing through her muscle tissues, a sudden carbonation of her blood.  So she prays and seeks the spirit, concave galaxy she hopes is large enough to receive her unnerving drive.  She moves that way, shimmers, shakes and passes on.  Out.  To where?  Preacher says to paradise, momma says to hell for too much writhing, too much lust.  Preacher likes the ways Therese seeks.  (Papa says it’s all perspective).

N Filbert 2012

79 word epic

An Epic in 79 words

In the beginning was the word, and the word was god and became human in the dialogue between, imagining; imagination becoming the domain of the humangodword – that subject/object constituting between or the recognition of being – that is, difference, fluctuate identities, change-charting actions of passing marks reanimated with each kenosis and subsequent in-dwelling, in other words, words began the perceiving that learned us something like self, necessitating others to be being, i.e. recognizable in varying contexts, backdrop origin…language.

N Filbert 2012

A Contradiction

A Contradiction in 73 words

A principal aspect in being human is opening to change.  First one thing, and then another.  To be deceptive.  By which we mean adaptive and successful.  The insurance one will thrive.  If only one.  “That which differs from itself is in agreement” (Heraclitus).  I understand.  We’re talking tension, balance, strain – a relation.  Stitching together in hopes it will hold while everything tears.  If we equate human being with living.  It changes.  We adapt.

79 Word Stories

So a new formal challenge emerges.  Tipped off by Duotrope, I stumbled on this interesting competition sponsored by the Aspen Writers Foundatino and Esquire magazine: A short short story of exactly 79 words, judged 25% plot, 25% characterization, 25% theme and 25% originality.  Why not, right?  I mean many of us compose 100-word stories (rarely EXACTLY 100, but) for Madison Woods “Friday Fictioneers” photo-prompts…so why not give 79 a shot, eh?  So as a little side project over the next month or so I’ll be delivering various aborted attempts…I’d love feedback, but they’ll probably keep appearing anyway!  Thanks all.

1. A 79-word story in 78 words

             I slipped there, on my way out.  I cried.

Someone held me, shaping me thus.  That’s what I heard, but never quite believed.  So they told me other things, and showed me pictures.  It began to sound like music, that I’d made.  I played.  And continued to study.  Soon it was all words and experience and me stumbling away.  Or sailing back, on rough waters with a rowdy entourage, and fear.  And love.  In either direction, I’m here.

N Filbert 2012