Writing exercise in which I had to write a piece in 5 minutes and I had to incorporate five random words. Can you guess what those 5 words were?
The man went from house to house, checking each door. Finally he found an unlocked door and in he went. There were rocks and weird animals in the parlour, but that was to be expected. There was also a child, smiling.
“Are you an alcoholic?” the child asked.
“Of course,” the man replied.
“Because of you and all of these things,” the man said, pointing to the rocks and the animals.
“You don’t need to be afraid,” the child said. “You can be yourself now.”
But the man couldn’t be himself, he couldn’t confess, not today, not in front of the rocks and the animals.
Once upon a time this was published, then other stuff got in the way…
This small piece of fiction was published in FlashFlood:
In case you don’t want to travel there, here is the simple thing:
I’m just a boy, that’s the simple truth. Most nights I wander on the beach and I am the only one. I kneel by an overturned boat. I dig by its side until there is enough space for me to crawl inside, in there. The darkness is much more intense than outside, but I still hear the sea lapping on the beach. It smells like being inside a sea urchin (I just know such things). A monster taps on my shoulder, I can hear the tentacles flapping on the sides of the boat, prospecting. Also scraping noises, possibly hard, beaky, parrot-like mouths trying to chew the innards of the boat. I get out and walk to another boat; I dig again and crawl underneath the boat. Maybe this time I will sit on the sand, in the fishy darkness, and my father will hug me.
A piece of flash fiction (Going Back Home) published in The Molotov Cocktail: