Tag Archives: story structure

Critiques Needed: Flash Fiction. Thank you.

Got Away

I don’t know what we were thinking. That we could get away with it perhaps? Jenny sat in the passenger seat with eyes and mouth wide open. Tears streamed down her cheeks. Why did I get her involved? We came to a red light on Ferge and Cuda Rd. I looked both ways for traffic. No cars on the road. In front of us was the way out of town. I checked my review mirror for police lights and saw none.

My dad’s car, which I stole, rattled as if it was about to cut off. Jenny heard it and looked terrified. I pressed the gas pedal and the engine died. I turned the key again. Nothing. We were definitely stuck. Sirens rang in the distance behind us. I thought about when I was a child as I waited for the lightning then counted until the thunder boomed. Wish I could judge the distance of the police and calculate how much time we have to figure out what to do. With my shaky hand I attempted to rub Jenny’s hair, and she jumped. She unfolded her hands on her lap and there, the blood, our father’s blood. She had the knife. Fresh tears flowed.

Her scream blended with the sirens closing in behind. “Get out of the car!” I yelled. She leaped out and I noticed the blood on my dad’s door handle. My stomach turned. My first thought was that he was going to be mad at me. My second thought was that he could do nothing about it. “What are we going to do, Jon?” she asked. I stared at my sister. She was the one with blood on her hands. “I’m sorry,” I said softly.

As the police arrived I took off across the street. She ran after me, trusting me, not realizing that I had left her to take the blame for our father’s death. Gun fire exploded behind us. I thought of the lightening and picked up my pace. I slid to a stop past the border then turned around. That’s when I saw her, crumpled in the middle of the road like a small dead deer. Her blood now mixed with my father’s blood as it was in her bedroom. I hit him and busted his lip, his blood and hers on the sheets. I defended her and she followed me. I grabbed a handful of rocks as they approached her. They will not touch her. I ran toward her body, throwing the rocks.

A flash of light followed by smoke blinded me. My chest burned. Grabbing my chest, I thought of firecrackers and the 4th of July at my family’s barbeque. Everyone excited as dad set off the poppers. My legs buckled just as I reached Jenny. She looked at me as I fell on top of her. We both stared at each other as death gave us darkness and peace.

 

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Dissecting A Novel

ImageAs I am trying to write this blog my five year old son as yanking my arm screaming,

“Give me ice cream! I want ice cream!”

So I decided to ignore him and began typing. Magically, it worked and now he is quietly holding on to my arm, silence of a lamb. Or he may be mesmerized by the My Little Pony cartoon on the television. Either way, he is subdued.  And crisis is adverted, for now.

I decided to write a new story. I’m not one for short stories as I have so much to say about certain situations. So, on the way is another novella or novel.

Why is my nose running? I know I am not getting a cold. This is some bullshit.

However, before writing this new novel I’m doing something new and surprisingly fun. I am dissecting Stephen King’s Misery, a story similar to an idea of mine. I’ve read dissecting a novel ( noting scenes, transitions, twists and introductions of characters on cue cards or writing it down) is a way to learn sentence structure and character development. It is a type of literature engineering that I am unexpectedly enjoying. Helps with outlining. I forgot how much I liked taking things apart and seeing how they work then putting it back together as perfectly as possible if not better. Though Stephen King is way out of my league, I love the “self-challenge”.

The excitement makes my toes wiggle. I’m a book whore. Books turn me on.

I am reading the ebook version of the novel and using Scrivener to break it down. Fast and easy. Also, tedious however, my mind runs at 100 miles and hour and fast typing is helpful. It also pays to have OCD. I wonder how long this will take to complete. I will share my experiences as I delve into this project.

Oh I learned “KISS”, Keep It Short and Simple. Or is it Keep It Simple, Stupid? What do you think? Let me know in the comments. And have you ever dissected a novel? Was it helpful?

The five year old is now asleep on my arm. Good grief.

Cheers,

Some Kind of Funky

BTW, you may see me refer to “The Five Year Old” from time to time. He is my adopted son who is my nemesis and my mini me. He is a 37 year old man in a kid’s size six/seven body, explains the gigantism, who thinks he can reason his way through childhood. As a baby I said that he was boring because he didn’t speak. Now he is a nonstop motor. It’s like waking up to a car dealer every morning to making deals between two Pop tarts and a Sponge Bob cartoon to let him eat in the living room or eggs, bacon and oatmeal and he gets my phone in the car to play Need for Speed:  Most Wanted on the way to school. Speaking of car dealership that’s what my living room resembles. Hot Wheels and Match Boxes are everywhere. Littered heavily among them are large dump trucks and ambulances. I have to play Minesweeper on the way to the kitchen and hope I don’t break my neck. He’s a great kid and drives a hard bargain. He makes me a better person and an exhausted one.