FLASH FICTION: Undead’s Dilemma

“Just do it already.” Julia bared her neck, hair to one side.

“S-so do I just b-bite the jugular? Or?”

Jesus Christ. Even now he’s second guessing himself .

“I don’t know,” she snapped. “What is it you guys usually do?”

“I’ve never done it before all right?”

“Well there aren’t any blood banks here, so I suggest you get to learning. And keep your voice down. Bad enough you roused a pack of carvers. Now you’re gonna get us killed because you can’t handle a little blood.”

It was so dark that Julia might as well have been talking to herself, but she knew that Elu could see the scorn in her eyes. Go on pussyfooting like this and you’ll lose your that night vision in a jiffy.

“B-but what if you turn?”

“Look, Elu.” Julia didn’t know if it was the anger or fear having her speak through gritted teeth. “You don’t do this, you die. You die, I die. Turning stopped being an issue the moment you decided to wander into uncharted rooms. Now are you gonna do it or what?”

“O-okay. Right then. Yes. This might hurt.”

“For fuck’s sake.”

But it did hurt, the exact same way it would if someone stuck a blunt snail-fork in your neck. Julia might’ve whimpered as Elu drew blood… she couldn’t remember. Why is it that when you black out in the dark, the world starts getting brighter?

Despite losing grip on reality, Julia heard the unmistakable wails of the carvers. It was them all right, hungry for blood in a way that Elu will never be. Get strong, she thought. Get us out of here. As she toed the borders of consciousness, Julia summoned the energy for one last whisper: “Whatever you do… don’t look them in the eye.”

NON FICTION: Wrestling With Procrastination

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A wrestler getting some reps in with a sixty kilo bag before clocking in as a bus driver

“Don’t tell me what you value, show me your budget, and I’ll tell you what you value.”

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It’s easy to procrastinate your life away. I mean, look at my last post date. It’s been months since my last update.

Or you could take a look at how I spent the past weekend: I slept in, had a late lunch, decided I wanted to spend the day writing, did some chores, played some games, watched TV, realised I’ve pissed away hours of said writing time, drank some vodka, blitzed a few online chess games, had dinner, drank more vodka, and before I knew it, the sun has set, and I’ve wasted another day.

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FLASH FICTION: Just A Hint

The straw that broke the camel’s back, was in fact, as light as a breath. Julie leaned in for the kiss — as she always did — not because she desired intimacy, but to make sure that Frank stuck to his word. She had sniffed the unmistakable scent of a tipple, along with Frank’s many other efforts at disguising it: mints, cigarettes, coffee.

How could it have been just a straw, when it felt heavier than sack of bricks? In fact, the only thing heavier than what she had packed — all seven years worth of living together — were the tears of her broken heart.

Via Daily Prompt: Scent

 

 

NON FICTION: Introspection In Sapa

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Embarking on the hike to Ta Phin

I should’ve packed an extra set of clothes. We were headed to the remote village of Ta Phin, Vietnam, so I saw it fit to cram my day pack with water and bread. Oh, they had tons of that over at my homestay. They even had enough beer and rice wine to kill a couple of cows. What they didn’t have were spare clothes, a fact I had to learn while drenched from the rain in fifteen-degrees Celsius weather. I sought refuge next to the fire pit under the pretense of helping out in the kitchen, all the while thinking, I definitely should’ve packed that extra set of clothes.

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NON FICTION: Life’s Biggest Goal

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Photo credit: Sam Caplat

Via Daily Prompt: Cling

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I can’t polish a blank page, which is why I actually started writing this piece — I wanted to prove to myself that I couldn’t polish crap either. I haven’t been able to write as freely as I’d like lately, and it’s probably because I’m clinging to perfection.

Much of my workflow involves tinkering the first sentence over and over until I realise I’ve veered so far off what I actually wanted to say that I end up abandoning the piece completely.

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WRITING PROMPT: God Of Gamers

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Photo credit: Kevin Dooley

Writing prompt: One morning humanity wakes up to a message in the sky. “Sorry was AFK for a bit there” -God

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“How do you think it got there?”

“I don’t know,” I say. “Probably some skywriters with a good idea of a prank.”

“Skywriting? But it’s been there since this morning!”

I leave the stranger behind, because I don’t need more questions that I can understand myself. Why don’t you come up with your own explanations then? If I’d stayed there for another minute, I might’ve snapped at him. Thank God, heh, I had the presence of mind to leave. Who knows what else I’d have done. I’m just on edge, is all. But deep down, I know I’m fuckin’ terrified.

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