[sticky entry] Sticky: Introduction

May. 14th, 2015 05:26 pm
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[personal profile] meridian_rose
Welcome to my fiction blog. I maintain a separate Wordpress blog for my articles, blog posts, meta, and product reviews.

You can also visit my website or follow my social media links directly:

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Small Comfort

Barrett offers her brandy, companionship, a handkerchief, but Abigail cannot so easily be comforted.

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Summary: Sometimes names are just names. Sometimes they are symbolic. Sometimes they're more than that. Fantasy flash fiction.

Thomas was thrown to the stone floor at the base of the steps. Despite his shackles he struggled to his knees, refusing to lie there complacent. He raised his bruised face defiantly and curled his lip, though that made the blood flow afresh.

"Your name?"

"Thomas Daniel," he said proudly. He was named Thomas for his grandfather, a great hunter, and the family of Daniel had long served the rightful king. "Who are you?"

The woman sat on the throne atop the dais regarded him with brown eyes that were filled with distaste. "I am Queen Ameris, ruler of the House of Conrí."
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A modern day Aridane and Dionysus meet



Ariadne leaned on the rough wooden railings, blinking back angry tears. The party continued all around her; people laughing, the clink of glasses, the ceaseless rush of the waves against the shore, a bonfire sending bright sparks into the night sky. As if nothing had happened.

How could she have been so wrong? Blinded by love? Lust? Was Tee really so charming that he'd warped her thoughts and feelings into some obsession she'd been powerless against?
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Birdseed

"If you're so hard up then why do you buy birdseed?" he asks, puzzled.

"Because it's relatively inexpensive for the benefits I get. I put a handful out every day," she says. "And the birds come and eat it. Pigeons, blackbirds, robins, sparrows, and crows. They wait for me now, eager each morning. I get to watch them peck at the seed. I know some are nesting in the nearby bushes. It gives me a sense of communion with nature. I know it's a small thing and hardly earth changing. But it makes me feel useful. As if I matter."
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An earlier version of this prose poem appeared in my personal journals. This updated version still reflects the struggle between the concept, creation, and completion of a creative work and how we are often biased against ourselves.
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An earlier version of this poem, about the joy and pain of creativity, how much the lack of support for one’s artistic endeavours of whatever kind can hurt, and the monetary vs intrinsic value of art, previously appeared at a personal journal as part of the importance of audience series.

THE ARTIST: What it is to live with the muse

She sculpts, removing the extraneous stone
Revealing the beauty within
It is her greatest passion to find and display every
Curve and line

She meets him at a gallery next to a coffee shop
He’s admiring Van Gough prints
She loves them too
They talk for a while, agree to meet next week

Shes says she’s a sculptor, he wants to see her work
She’s shy at first, reluctant to display her imperfect creations
But she opens the door to her studio
To her soul
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The Unwatched Play

Frank lounges in his seat
Disappointed with himself
Feeling unfulfilled
"No auditions?" Joe asks
"No. Not even for an ad this week."
Joe shakes his head, saddened
But he tries to be encouraging
"You're still an actor."
"Yes," Frank agrees
Because that's true.
He is still an actor
Regardless of his work
"And you're good."
Frank shrugs.
"And you've memorised all of Hamlet's lines."
Frank nods.
"So what does it matter
If no-one ever sees you perform?
You can recite the whole soliloquy
In the privacy of your own lounge.
Give a moving performance.
That should be enough, right?"
"Right," Frank agrees
With false brightness
"Like, getting a part in a play
Should be enough, if the show is great
Even if no-one attends."
Joe sighs.
"That's bollocks, isn't it?"
He's right.
Because what's the point
Of a performance
That goes unseen?
Or a record that never
Gets airplay?
________________________________________
The importance of audience is a theme I have explored before and will continue to revisit. This particular poem was previously published at a personal journal. The crux of the poem is something writers are told frequently: "You should write for yourself, and it doesn't matter if no-one reads"; if that's true, then the same ought to apply to all the creative arts.
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Prose Poem: unburdening

"I'm scared," he says "after what happened last time."
But there was no response.

"I'm scared," he says, "after what happened last time."
"Did you see this thing I did?" the man said as if no words had been spoken.

"I'm scared," he says, "after what happened last time."
"Yeah, sure, it'll be fine," the woman said barely listening.

"I'm scared," he says, "after what happened last time."
"What happened last time?" she asks.

And allows him to finally share his fears.
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1376 words. A flash fiction fantasy tale for the [community profile] hc_bingo February amnesty challenge (prompts at close of fic). No standard warnings apply.
Base image banner by mconnors at Morguefile.com

Once upon a time there was a fearsome dragon. It had lived peaceably near a village for years, the two separated by a thick forest. The dragon hunted mostly in the woods at night, and slept in the cave at the foot of the mountain range where few people travelled.
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"I'm thinking of calling it the 'Steak and Slayer'," JJ said, staring up at the currently empty frame atop the signpost. The previous sign was already long gone and the metal post had been given a fresh coat of paint. "With a picture of a stake and the font from 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer', and hope Joss Whedon doesn't find out."

"I like the pun for a pub serving steaks. But I think you should call it the Moon," Alex mused.

"Why?"

"So I can say 'Oh, I was just drinking in the moon' which sounds romantic, even spiritual."

"It will be true. Just not those sort of spirits."

Alex laughed. "And people can say 'I'm going to the Moon tonight.' It's fun."

"Short-lived romances can be summed up by the walk to and from the village as 'I loved you to the Moon and back'," JJ suggested.

"We need a toy bovine to throw," Alex said suddenly and they said in unison, "because the cow jumped over the Moon!"
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base image source

A 3 sentence fic for the prompt "A witch receives a familiar who doesn’t believe in magic."

"I don't believe in magic," Tabitha said, tail swishing idly from side to side.

"You're a talking cat for crying out loud," Amber pointed out.

Tabitha blinked her orange eyes and said lazily, "I don't see what that has to do with anything."
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Title: Too Far
Fandom: Original Fic
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 752
Originally posted elsewhere for the 30 days of fiction meme prompt #12 write a scene at a sushi bar;
someone suggested I tackle this one with the extra challenge of 'but some of the fish should be ALIVE'. Re-posted for the prompt "That One Friend"
Summary: Kurt takes his girlfriend and his less adventurous friends out for sushi – with a twist planned for the evening
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Title: Beached
Fandom: Original fic
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 302
Prompt: For the thirty days of fiction meme prompt #2 Write a scene with a drunken mythological creature
Summary: Drinking rum and swimming in the ocean isn't the best idea - but not for the reason you might think

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 fic: an evening stroll>

Title: An Evening Stroll
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 100
Content Notes: No standard warnings apply.

I leap atop the fence and stalk my way across the narrow beams, graceful as an Olympic gymnast. The moon lights my way, but I see perfectly well in the dark. I stretch and drop soundlessly to the ground.

I pad around my territory, damp grass brushing my whiskers and wetting my paws. The evening's scents tickle my nose. Eager to taste the aromas I open my mouth in what looks like a smile.

A moth flutters past. I chase it, partly for fun, mostly from instinct. It gets away. I yawn, languidly. I didn't want to catch it anyway.




Prompt: for the 30 days of flash fiction prompt 8) write a scene as a cat
The 'smile' is the cat using the Jacobson's Organ:
"Besides using their nose, cats have another amazing organ that aids them in smelling. It’s called Jacobson’s organ or vomeronasal organ located in their mouth behind the front teeth. When cats detect a strong odor, they often open their mouth slightly, breathing through it, allowing the smell to travel into their mouth and captured by the Jacobson’s organ. Cats are able to use this powerful organ to tell the gender of a cat, his health status, even predict unusual occurrence such as natural disasters."[source]

Base photo by deemac1 at Morguefile.com
Crossposted to my wordpress account and awaiting publication at the wordpress drabble community.
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[personal profile] meridian_rose
Title: A Matter of Perspective
Pairing/Characters: Original characters, gen
Rating: Mature
Word Count: 795
Prompt: For [livejournal.com profile] mmom and my solo celebration prompt "I only make love to myself"
Summary: An imposter king comforts a woman, kin to the man he is betrothed to. She explains she is not the "harlot" some call her. In fact to lie with a man will rob her of her gift – or curse, as others name it. That does not mean she is deprived of worldly pleasures, not even "release".
Content Notes: No standard warnings apply. No sexual content but contains discussions around sex, virginity, masturbation, and same gender relationships.
Author Notes: This short piece takes place in a fantasy world I am hoping to write more about in the future. I'm still working out many of the details but I hope this snippet is intriguing.
black and white stone steps with the title A Matter of Perspective
image base from morguefile contributor

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Title: Unicorns
Fandom: Original
Rating: Mature
Word Count: 457
Prompt: For the [livejournal.com profile] mmom and my solo celebration bingo prompt 'virginity'
Summary: What is virginity, does masturbation count, and why would a unicorn care? One woman's ownership of her body frustrates the clergyman who thinks she needs tutoring in how to tame a unicorn.
Content Notes: No standard warnings apply. Masturbation.
Cross posted to my original fiction professional blog and my wordpress account.


Image base from morguefile


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Title: The Chill of Early Winter
Fandom: Original fiction
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 566
Summary: Creative nonfiction. He's not quite three and he's already learning to use emotional blackmail.
Content Notes: No standard warnings apply.
Crossposted to my wordpress account


image base from morguefile

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Icy water but
spring is around the corner
goodbye to winter




haiku/my photo and edit, also @ wordpress

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