Once More, With Feeling

"Yesterday it was my birthday-

I've hung one more year on the line- 

I should be depressed-

My life's a mess-

But I'm having a good time." 

-Paul Simon 

TWC: NaNo Fragment

[ My three piece and a biscuit ordering friends at the Trifecta Writing Challenge give us a page (the 99th) from the OED, and offer us 99 words to wrap around one of the words thereupon, in honor of the 99th TWC. The following is something that may or may not be a fragment from the novel I may or may not write during National Novel Writing Month, which is absolutely positively happening in November. ]










"A baby?," I said. I could not disguise the disbelief in my voice.

"What?," Em said. She sounded hurt. I winced.

"I don't need to tell you how many ways that's a bad idea," I said.

"I know," she said. I could see the pout on her face, even in the darkness.

"But you want a baby?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"You need me to explain?"

"No."

I turned over. Her skin glowed slightly, the light from a power strip on the floor making everything look red.

"A baby with me?," I said.

"Of course," she said.

I swallowed.

100 Word Song: "First Time"

[Our friend Leeroy, who fortunately suffered no ill effects from the government shutdown, and his more biological master Lance present us with the uber heavy "Thunderkiss '65" from White Zombie as this week's 100 Word Song. This story is called "First Time"]

Her palms were sweaty, and she hastily smoothed them on the backs of her thighs. The music was all around her, unrelenting and punishing, the bass making her ribcage rattle. His room was a mad landscape of clothes, papers, books, and everywhere pictures of huge, hairy men who looked like monsters. His voice was in her ear suddenly, his hands at her waist as he guided her towards his bed.

"Isn't this great? It's White Zombie!," he said to her as she tried to pick her way across the floor, her shoes finding spots of floor delicately, her stomach fluttering.

100 WS: "Taylor Grey"

[ Leeroy, our metal music man, and his carbon based pal and acclaimed author Lance, offer "Poor Places" by Wilco as this week's 100 Word Song. This piece is called "Taylor Grey" ]



















She sat on the edge of the bed as if it might explode. His eyes opened.

"Hey," he said weakly. His face was a roadmap of cuts and bruises.

"Hey yourself," she said. "How are you feeling?"

"Like someone beat me up," he said. He tried to smile and managed a wince.

"You're an idiot," she said. "You should have ignored them."

"I could not."

"I can handle myself."

"I know."

"So why? Why take them on?"

"I had to."

"You didn't!," she said. She went to grab him, then stopped.

"Some things can't be allowed to stand," he whispered.

TWC: "Midnight Rambler"

(My friends over at the Trifecta Writing Challenge, who unfortunately put the rent money on Papa's Mustache in the third to complete a quinella and lost it all, present all of Greater Blogistan with a challenge to compose 33 words inspired by the sublime "Sympathy for the Devil" by the Rolling Stones. My contribution, called "Midnight Rambler", follows. )










She watched him, thinking about sin. He washed his hands.

"If you leave, it seals my fate," she said. She was no saint.

"I can't do this alone," she said.

Then he left.

Self Promotion (Slight Return)

Matt Potter, Australia's greatest contribution to world culture since Dave Nilsson and Graeme Lloyd, has for sale a remarkable series of books that inexplicably feature the work of yours truly, most recently "Obit." I am also honored to be a part of the 2014 project, a series of books that will feature a short story a day throughout next year. You can check that series out here.
More regular writing, for good or ill, will appear again soon. Watch this space.