Charli Mills latest post is In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story that includes a fantastical element or creature. (http://carrotranch.com/2014/06/04/june-4-flash-fiction-challenge/). Another tester.
If you’d asked me before last November I’d have scoffed at fantasy, poo-pooed it. But then something called NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month)came into my life and I wrote this YA book called The Miracle on Sydenham Hill which has definite fantastical notes in it; I’ve posted the first chapter inhttps://geofflepard.wordpress.com/my-work/the-miracle-of-sydenham-hill/ if you want to take a peek; maybe it is time for the second part to be uploaded. I even printed six copies on http://www.lulu.com/ which was easy and pretty reasonably priced given I only wanted six copies for my family.
NaNoWriMo is a self challenge under which you aim to write a completed work of at least 50,000 words in a month. 1667 a day for the Fibonacci fans out there. Vampires, voices in the head, mysterious Romanian gypsies.
A start but now for something more. This challenge should be a doddle. Shouldn’t it? Well, thinks I, maybe I should add my own little twist. You see, some of the other regulars have been using the characters they have created in more than one flash – flash-hopping as it were. Charli has Sarah and Cobb; Irene (http://irenewaters19.com/2014/06/02/99-word-flash-fiction-challenge-priorities/) has her wheelbarrow (my father wrote poems to my mother each year on her birthday, many of which were on the theme of ‘Barbara has gone into the garden again…’ but after Irene’s flash I’m wondering if gardening is such a safe pastime or it is more like something from Stella Gibbons’ imagination – ‘Something nasty in the woodshed’ perhaps); and I mustn’t forget Sarah (http://rantsaboutparenting.blogspot.co.uk/) and her leg under the bed. Well, not her leg exactly… well, I don’t think so. We still have to find out.
Anyroad, this week I’m continuing with Peter and Milton, the dog he left to fry in the car last time…
Dog days and Phoenix nights
It was morphogenesis; Milton was in flames but not in pain. Peter smiled. What next for the Staffie?
‘He’s smiling, Mum.’
‘It’s the sun. When they turn Grandpa to the window, it looks like he’s smiling.’ Mary slipped past the bleeping machines. ‘Here, I’ll move this.’
A horn grew from Milton’s head; Peter knew now. A unicorn. The flames engulfed the dog, leaving the horn pointing skywards. Peter felt happy at last.
‘There.’ Mary pulled the drip stand from the window so its shadow cut across Peter’s face. ‘I wish, he’d give us a sign.’
‘He’s peaceful, Mum.’