Welcome to the two hundred and fifty-eighth in this series that is ‘5pm Fiction’.
Late April 2011 I discovered StoryADay.org and the project that is to write 31 stories in 31 days. Anyone who knows me or follows this blog, knows how passionate I am about short stories so my clichéd eyes lit up at this new marvel. And just a few days later there I was, breathing life into new characters. This went on to become (with some editing of course) my 31-story collection eBook Story A Day May 2011. I have since published (as eBooks) the 2012 and 2013 collections, detailed on http://morgenbailey.wordpress.com/books-mine/short-stories/story-a-day-may.
I was nearing completion of the 2012 project when I decided that I didn’t want to stop at the end of May so 5PM Fiction was born. I put a load of prompts on the 5PM Fiction page and today’s was to write a monologue from a creature’s perspective. Here is my 248-worder.
Green, not like grass
Hey, Grandpa! It’s the field!
Oh, I forgot he’s not with me. He’d tell me I’m being stupid, that it’s not a field. It’s green though and it smells, not like grass but just as fresh, like the mountains Grandpa told me about. He misses them, I can tell, but you can’t help where you end up, can you.
Came in on a bit of mud, I did. Then she dropped this green thing on the floor and I hopped on. Well, not hopped, because ants don’t hop, but you know. I wanted to explore something different to mud and grass.
I think it’s made of glass because that was Grandpa told me those clear, flat things are we climb up, but this is green, and not cold so it must be a different type of glass. Get plenty of that in the field. She’ll probably notice she’s dropped them and come back or… Oh no! What’s that? Oh my God, it’s… it’s… what is it? A giant? No, it’s all covered in fur and that long, pink thing hanging from its mouth… it’s all… wet.
Oh no, please don’t. There’s nothing here for you. You wouldn’t like me. I have no fat, not tasty at all. Ouch. Ow! What’s that noise? Like a really horribly loud squeak. A whistle? Is that what Grandpa meant?
Yes! It’s done the trick, it and its pink wet mouth thing.
If I just step over… woah! It’s collapsing!
Grandpa! Help! Grandpa?
Photograph above courtesy of morguefile.com.
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