Today’s prompt will be short but, hopefully, sweet.
Left by the side of the bed of room 321 of Pineview Hotel, folded neatly, police officers found the following note in a flowing and elegant handwriting:
Dear humans,
I don’t know how you do it, but I’ve had enough pretending to be like you.
Officer Wallace was the first the wall sucked in.
Since tomorrow is Halloween for most of you, I figured I should post something relevant, something dark and, hopefully, a bit scary.
You’re in a single-room apartment where the last rays of light slip through the window and land on an old woman sitting on her rocking chair. She lives alone and forgotten. On her lap is her dog, a feisty and very protective little beast that snarls or bites anyone who dares come near her, or makes the dreadful mistake to walk outside the tiny and rundown apartment she inhabits. She has just put a record on the player – Verdi’s Nabucco – and a strong, crystal voice rises in an unpresedented crescendo.
On the wall facing her are photographs of herself at a much younger age, when the spotlights seemed like they’d never go dark, when fans flocked to her and others begged to be on stage with her. On the other side of the wall she has pinned newspaper articles from when they dragged her to prison, accused for murder. No one comes near her anymore. No one wants to know her. She’s all alone in the world. Except for her dog guardian.
The song on the record ends. It’s a live recording, so people applaud, a true standing ovation. The dog on her lap is calm. This song is almost second nature to it by now. The clapping from the record fades and eventually ends. Silence.
Except for the clapping sound in her small room that carries on. It’s coming closer.
I got published for the first time in 2014. That year was great for me, and totaled three short stories published in webzines. Loved them all, and it saddened me when two of those magazines ceased their operations. I think there’s a kitten whimpering with its head hung for every literary magazine that closes. For some of you, three short stories are nothing. Okay, maybe most of you craft that many in a day or so. But for me, short stories aren’t all that easy. I prefer coming up with longer narratives, stories where I can delve into some world building, deeper character arcs etc, so three were just fine š Lets not forget I had only started writing a year before that.
I had high hopes for 2015, and I kept whoring my stories left and right, as Faulkner once said. Alas, 2015 sucked! I probably collected more rejection emails from that year than a seamstress has pins in her arsenal.
2016 on the other hand, seems to be a promising one. “Seems” is the keyword, as always. Bride of Chaos will publish a short story of mine for its 9Tales Told in the Dark series, sometime around April. Have a look at them, and if you like horror, fantasy, or sci-fi consider supporting the magazine. I’ve already stated my opinion on literary magazines in a previous message, and I stand by what I had said back then.
Just a quick reminder to let you know that my third short story The Darkening is now published by Voluted Tales. The story appears in their special issue called “Darkness Internal” Issue 3. You can find it at http://volutedtales.com/issue/darkness-internal-3/article/the-darkening
It’s a post apocalyptic horror story and it’s considerably shorter than the previous one, barely exceeding 2100 words, so if you choose to pay for the magazine and read it you should be able to finish it in one sitting.
The story deals with John, one of the few survivors from The Darkening, an event that brought each person’s shadow into life and eradicated the majority of the human race. Ever since then, John had to make some tough choices about life and death, particularly that of other people. In near isolation, he struggles hard to maintain some sort of humanity but his self-preservation instinct often kicks in.
I hope you enjoy it. It’s the one that inspired me to write the novel I’m working on and it should be enough to get you into the setting and mood of living in darkness.
