The Ramshackle Writer – short fiction by MorgEn Bailey

The following piece of flash fiction is from Morgen’s smaller short story collection (just 93 stories instead of 250!), The Story A Day May Collection, available in eBook and paperback from Amazon  and Morgen’s online store where you can not only instantly download the collection but also purchase the paperback dedicated to you or as a present! We hope you enjoy this story…

The Ramshackle Writer

On the edge of the mountain, silhouetted against the setting sun, there is a small ramshackle cottage made of wood. It looks like any ordinary cottage but it’s the stuff of legends, the owner, the hero of legends.

Or so he thought.

“Tommy!”

No, that’s terrible.

On the edge of the mountain, silhouetted against the setting sun, there is a small ramshackle cottage made of wood. Wood collected from the forest at the top of the mountain.

Jack pulled the piece of paper from his typewriter, screwed it up and threw it at the bin. It missed, and became just one of a pile of screwed up pieces of paper.

On the edge of the mountain, silhouetted against the setting sun, there is a small ramshackle cottage made of wood. Inside sits a writer with writer’s block.

“How’s it coming?” Nancy, Jack’s long-suffering wife looked over his shoulder. “Oh dear.”

“Yes, exactly.”

“It’s a bit ‘Dark and stormy night’.”

“I know, but it’s the prompt for today.”

“Can’t you change it?”

“We can but I like to stick with what we’re given.”

“It is only for fun.”

“And to put on my blog. By five o’clock.”

Nancy looked at her watch. Five twenty-five.

“I know. I can backtime it.

“Backtime? Is that even a word?”

“Don’t know. Backdate is.”

“If you used a computer like everyone else, it would underline it if it wasn’t a word.”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m a writer, I can make up words.”

“Why don’t you?”

“Why don’t I what?”

“Use a computer like everyone else.”

“It feels… I don’t know. It feels more authentic. Like Stephen King. Very… Secret Window.”

“Terrible movie.”

“I know. It’s all a dream and all that. But I’m more productive this way. My ideas flow better.”

“They’re not flowing today.”

“I know, but that’s not the typewriter, it’s the prompt.”

“Then pick another one.”

“No, I’ll persevere.”

Nancy shrugged. “OK, but don’t blame me if…” The rest was lost as she went into the kitchen.

“Another prompt,” Jack mumbled as he pulled out the paper, screwed it up and launched it at the bin. It hit the edge but fell in. He clapped, laughed and put another piece of paper into the typewriter, twisting down the end, until the paper was sticking out a couple of inches from the top.

“Another prompt…”

He sat up straight, hovered his fingers, claw-like, over the keys and started tapping.

It was a dark and stormy night…

###

 

We'd love you to leave a comment, thank you!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.