New Flash - RESCUE MISSION - and a Writing Group Recommendation

I belong to Talkback, the online forum from the UK's popular Writing Magazine. Every month the forum runs a 'One Word Challenge' whereby the winners from the previous month provide a single word which acts as a theme for the new challenge, they then judge and give constructive feedback on the entries. Entrants can write a prose piece up to 200 words and/or a poem up to 40 lines.  

The theme for January was 'stark' and the following piece Rescue Mission was my entry. It didn't win but got positive feedback, and I rather enjoyed writing it so thought I would share. 

But the key reason for posting about this is, if you don't belong to a writer's group, don't have an outlet for your writing and/or are looking for support and guidance then Talkback is a well-established, free forum that I would recommend joining. Its friendly members include published writers of fiction, non-fiction, poetry and screenplays as well as non-published and new writers. There is much discussion about competitions, story/novel/article structure, traditional versus e-publishing and grammar questions plus industry news.

Why not nip over to Talkback and join up. You might even want to have a go at the new One Word Challenge.

RESCUE MISSION

It takes will and effort to bury a man, even in the desert. Now the corpses are outnumbering us we’ve been forced to leave them strewn across the sands to nourish more rapacious survivors, all dignity lost.

***

There are eight of us left. The Frenchman and Russian made some kind of pact this morning. We’ve left their bodies in the cockpit.

***

Strobel died. An hour after he announced “I’m going on a quick recce,” we ventured out into the starless darkness only to find him sucking moisture from the aircraft’s underbelly, convulsing as he held on fast. Did he know the poison in the rains would be enough to kill him? We never had time to ask.

***

We’ve given up questioning the cause. Bomb? Meteorite? All we know is there is no horizon, no sunrise. Occasional lightning staggers across the skies but it throws no clues. The cloying air remains thick with billowing green cloud.

***

Reeves took the risk. I packed sugar cubes into his pockets and let him leave, two oxygen bags strapped to his back. He shook my hand and we wondered who would die first.

***

It’s just me now.

***

I don’t think Reeves is coming back...

Mythos, Minos and a pinch of prose

Minoan Snake Goddess

I have just returned from the mystical land of Crete where the Minotaur roams through darkened labyrinths and Zeus welcomes his guests with mighty thunder. I danced under the gaze of the Snake Goddess and fell prey to ancient libation (raki).

In fact, I did nothing cultural whatsoever this time but was able to seriously chill out after what had possibly been the most challenging and stressful few months I can remember - and sometimes that's enough.

Regrettably Broadband and wi-fi was in short supply and I couldn't send email while there, but now I'm back - virtual Pina Colada in hand (I'm a lush and I'm proud) and am wildly inspired to write.

_________________________________________________

Here's a short piece of prose that has just won the UK's Writing Magazine/Writers News online forum's monthly One Word Challenge. The theme for May was 'Stream'.

CONSCIOUSNESS

She’s the island in the middle, growing fragile at the edges where the creatures dig in deep, boring holes into her soul.

All around her, tinkling and twinkling over polished rocks the summer water flows with ease. It goes about its business without a care for the weeping wart at its centre. A crumbling clump here, a stagnant pool there. Mites hiss, in love with the detritus rotting on the surface.

Lush and vibrant, the silken stream babbles with soft laughter all around the sinking isle. And all the while, the sinking isle plunges deeper, moisture bubbling through her underbelly where creeping sluice tendrils pervade the loosened soil.

All it takes, all it takes... is a passing storm to wreak the final damage. Thunderous rain spills from Zeus’s hands; a waterfall from a purple sky to soak the land below. The crevices expand. Sand – sharp and callous – blends with the furious torrent to bring about destruction, the distressed earth torn to shreds, dispersed.

And all that’s left is a pebble which slips down an empty bank to lie down on its side. Like a single word that’s taken a single girl over her own decaying edge.

___________________________________