Sunday, September 22, 2013
A one sided dialog flash story for your enjoyment =]
Collector
Good
evening, Mr. Clayson, my name is Mabelle Merriweather. It’s good to meet you. I
prefer to handle these proceedings face to face. I trust that you have enjoyed
your embellished lifestyle these past five years?
What’s
that you say? Your life has indeed improved. Good, I’m glad to hear it, we do
aim to please and fulfill our side of the contract.
Yes
sir, I agree, France is beautiful in the spring. But sir, all good things…
Now
as for your side of the contract Dr. Beast has sent me here today to inform you
that payment is due immediately. The payment consists of your eternal soul. You
may recall that there are no clauses in the contract for partial payments of
limbs or bodily organs. So please do not ask for any allowances in this manner.
If you are unwilling to pay at this time
I will take action to enforce payment with interest. My own self interest of
course, I can't be expected to care about your concerns.
Mr
Clayson, please don’t interrupt.
As
you are well aware, the terms of the contract state that if you do not pay
directly then we will rip out the souls of those you care for. If you do not
have anyone that you feel for we have every right to
make you fall in love with a bystander and take their soul. This results in
living the rest of your days as a miserable wretch and when you die we collect
your soul forthwith. You will be filed as a murderer without redemption for
letting someone die in your place.
Sir,
stop embarrassing yourself. As you can plainly see the contract in my hands is
signed with your blood in your handwriting.
You have lived in exorbitant luxury and that doesn't come cheap.
Now
that’s clear for you, I’ll perform my favorite part of this job.
Mr.
Clayson, you do have a way with words, and you put up a tough fight. When
you scream, and you will, please don’t stop. I love the wonderful agony and shrieks that come
from shivering lips. The shrill pitches and helpless moans are always a delight
for me.
Thank
you. Keep in mind I don’t want to make this easy for you. There is no use in
fighting it, but for my sake, I’m glad that you do. It makes my job exciting. You
may want to hold still for just a moment while I pluck it out, or not, the
choice is yours.
Good
choice! Thank you so much for your lack of cooperation.
You
have such a tiny, itty-bitty, little soul, hardly worth all the bother to come
for it. I will need to prepare it for Dr. Beast. He can be so picky and over dramatic when he doesn't get what he wants. I must do this right or I’ll be
sent to the back office again and I do so hate the clinging maggots that litter
the place.
Mr.
Clayson, what do you suggest I do with such a small dish of a soul? Oh never
mind you can’t speak.
I
know, perfection, I’ll toss you up like a salad. Throw in a few dashes of guilt
to give it spice and dress it up in childhood nightmares that you can't wake up
from. Then maybe slice up your fingers like string carrots for style and
garnish. Yes, that will do nicely. Dr. Beast will devour you with a passion.
I
wonder if I’ll get a raise. Hmm… the very thought, so wicked and so lovely.
Thank you Mr. Clayson I do believe you’ve made the rest of my eternity a very
happy place indeed.
Tuesday, August 6, 2013
In good time
I believe that my first book is taking longer than I would like to get written because I have spent so much time writing and learning the craft on short stories. This isn't such a bad road to travel to get where I'm going.
Thursday, August 1, 2013
Bring Forth The First Post
So I’m back to my novel, my home and my heart. It’s my first novel, and I don’t know how well it will be received. But I don’t think about that all too much – mostly I ask myself if I want to self-publish someday. My biggest critic is myself, and my biggest obstacle is my health.
To say it’s not easy to write while struggling with a chronic disease is a gross understatement. It feels like holding a flag in a hurricane. Sometimes I lose my grip, and I watch it fly away into the storm. Then I walk through the debris and pick it up again.
Writing is the one constant I have in my life. No it’s
not something I can do every day, but it’s my lifeline that pulls me through.
And when the blizzard of fibromyalgia clears for a time I can write. A needed passion
and I think for most writers it’s their center. It’s more than an obsession
that drives me to do it. Perhaps with a little insanity and perseverance I can tell
the story that no one else can.