Links to the earlier parts of this collaborative tale written with Jolene Rice can be found: Part I, Part II, Parts III & IV, Part V and Part VI. And now you have Part VII in your grubby little fingers.
I’d forgotten how far we’d taken this before I flaked out. Good thing Jolene is around to (finally) put it to bed. This is getting into the territory of where I get to be surprised by where she decided to take this.😄
Links to the earlier parts of this collaborative tale written with Jolene Rice can be found: Part I, Part II, and Parts III & IV, and Part V.
Funny thing: I did my field trip downtown Minneapolis today and one of the street people started singing “Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jo-leeeeene” as I walked by. I didn’t understand a word he said but it sounded like he was telling to write a song like that again.
I forgot that crowd. Always worth a few laughs when one of them gets it in their head to give a full performance.
Chico’s Mom (Jolene Rice) went to some lengths to make this collaborative short story ready for primetime: dusting it off, sanding off the the rough edges, finishing it (!), while tempering all of my frequently questionable, sad attempts at humor and my editing skills.
The original idea asked:
What would happen if the modern cunning woman (or “witch of the woods”, if you prefer) set up shop in a tiny home just outside of the city, and advertised her potions and charms on the internet.
And then, what would happen if someone feeling insecure about aging or appearances (and on a tight budget) went to her for a potion to “be seen” like she was back in her heyday. Procuring the potion was as easy as asking for it.
“Here’s your solution, deary.”
However, there was a minor hurdle for the customer to overcome.
Just a quick break here from Everything Falls Apart. Jolene (aka Chico’s Mom) posts some writing prompts every once in a while and I always like to take a stab at writing some flash with what she gives folks. This time around the four prompts are:
Don’t ask me why this particular scene came to mind when I saw the prompts. But it appeared almost immediately.
Apologies to Ringo. This, I guess, might be classed as fanfict. I don’t claim any copyright to the characters mentioned in this work of fiction.
Ringo sank deeper into the dark, quiet cafe booth as a yellow submarine drifted past the window. As it moved on in search of Pepperland, he sighed and straightened up.
(more…)[Originally posted on sceandugenga.com, January 14, 2021]
“I wouldn’t open that door, Vern,” Larry, holding up a hand in the general direction of the door but not looking up from his calculations written hastily on a yellow legal pad. “My guess the reason that those yahoos can’t be found is that they messed up this” — he pointed to a glyph on the frame around the door — “was supposed to be the inverted form. Chances are, they ended up right in the lap of Nyarlathotep instead of in Kadath itself.”
He shook his head at the revelation. “Poor bastards had no business messing with this kind of higher math.”
Note: I am taking a short break from posting new material and am tossing out a few older pieces as explained here and here. Thanks for your continuing support.
Another four prompts from Jolene.
Another absurd little tale. Okay, maybe not that absurd.
The prompts:
Gee, I really love you
And we're gonna get married
Going to the chapel of love
The sunlight was more blinding than it had any right to be, piercing even eyes closed tight against such insults and it sent my head spinning. Or the room spinning. Or, the whole world had become a giant tilt-a-whirl and I fought the urge to vomit up all the liquor I had consumed at the—
Umm. Record release party on the Strip. That sounded right, the answer hiding just behind the pounding on the inside of my skull by some wee gnome with a steel hammer.
After which, I think it was followed by an an after-hours rave.
I think. Things went all wobbly right after hailing the Uber with Jessie and that producer she had the hots for that we were chatting up at the release party.
(more…)There’s this story I have flipping around my mind. Yeah?
Maybe it’s a true story.
Maybe it’s not.
I haven’t written it down yet, so it could be either.
It might even be both.
(more…)I started this a while back for Jolene Rice’s story prompts and never got around to finishing it. This particular list included: a key that nobody else has, a bumper sticker offers excellent advice, a slow poke, and an oddities collector.
This time, I was going to eschew my normal fantasy/noir/horror inclinations and lean fairly straight, non-genre storytelling. I do that on occasion. When I do, chances are there are still hints of some kinds of odd in the tale, but the world’s chocked full of odd kinds of tales.
Anyway, it seemed a shame to let a not-terrible beginning to a story molder in a draft folder, so I decided to share it in the story’s unfinished state.
All apologies offered in advance.
Bonus points if you can figure out the inspiration which informs the tone of the planned story.
There was a traffic jam on the kudzu-lined gravel road leading into Gideon. There were already at least three cars lined up behind whatever was obstructing the road around the canopy of vines hanging down from telephone wires and what-all the greenery could find for support to cling to.
(more…)