Flash Fiction

Kinderspiel. CC2.0 photo by Hartwig HKD.

Flash! Friday once again set all us flashheads up with an irresistible photo to write about.  The muse and I were well rested from our nothing-weekend, and had 2 stories blaze into being… One a rather dark and twisted decent into insanity, and the other a quirky and casual nod to our favorite madman in a blue box.

Into Madness

202 words

The Tree.

Concealed within leafy camouflage, sharp twiggy fingers reach, slashing gaping fissures across the sky. Skeletal talons elongate to grasp, clawing the clouds, rending the firmament, sundering the heavens, fragmenting my mind.

The Shadow.

Digging, crawling, scrabbling across hardpan, dry land, seeking moisture, fluid, the cool kiss of sensibility. Only dead desiccated Earth underfoot, thirsting for the water of sanity, the meaning of life.

The Sun.

It ignites the sky, the howling inferno a rage of confusion, flames of incandescence melting my vision in blinding radiance. Eyes without a face spiral: staring, accusing, dragging me to the depths of derangement.

The Figure.

Born of interplay between light and dark, it circles closer and closer. The form, the visage, the countenance, the bearing: all are mine in mirror image. He wears my face, my clothing, my hair and skin, eyes dark, empty, devoid of my soul.

I reach out, my shadow form, with hands my own yet not, feeling the touch of foreign flesh on my cheek even as I register stubble against my own fingertips.

I Falter. Drop. Accept defeat.

The last tear of resolve evaporates from my cheek.

The war within is ended. My personal demons drag me to madness.

That’s My Story

200 words

“I’m telling you – the tree was THIS big!”

This declaration received a spattering of hrump’s, hmmmm’s, and at least one lurid guffaw, which decayed into the general background noise in the bar.

“And these two fighting fellas,” the storyteller continued, gesticulating wildly in an attempt to set the sheer scale of his story in the proper perspective “Were giants!  HUGE!  I barely came up to their bootstraps.”

A glass slid down the gleaming wooden bartop toward the speaker.  He sipped, smacked his lips in appreciation, smiled widely around the room as thanks for the purchaser.

“The ground, see, was cracked from their fighting,” he continued.  “Every move they made was followed by more rocks bouncing down them holes.  I was afraid the box I came in was gonna get sucked inna one.”

Silence grabbed hold of the bar, as all conversations ceased abruptly.

“The box, you say,” said the barkeep, “The one that’s bigger on the inside?”

The storyteller nodded so vigorously, he threatened to topple off his stool.  “Yea – the little blue box with the tour guy inside,” he confirmed.

The bar erupted in laughter.

“See if I ever use Doc’s Vacation Services again,” he grumbled into his drink.

Rose lineup Flash Fiction

Cleaning off the Memory Card

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Spinning LED Bo-Staff

The Squidnificant Other (SQO for short) …

I’ll fill you in on that story later – it’s long, involved, and defiles 😮 an undisclosed, sandy location.

… got some shirts for Christmas.  Not jtardis shirtust any shirts, mind you.  These were soft cotton blend T-shirts.  What was on those shirts made them special – priceless, even.  Printed on these amazing cotton chest-coverers were a screen print of a Dalak on one and the T.A.R.D.I.S. on the other (Doctor Who fans in the reading audience may begin drooling now…).  The REAL value of these shirts was the story behind them.

These weren’t some mass-produced, off-the-rack, let’s spend 5 minutes and find a gift apparel…these were made to order.  Dave’s friend found a local screen-print artist, floated the artwork ideas, and paid the artist to craft the screens then used to print the art onto the chest of the shirts.

THIS is what happens when one thinks outside the capitalism box and aims to support the local economy.  It was a wonderful present, and I’m happier indeed for knowing this gentleman is a friend of my SQO.

Soooo… we simply GOTTA show these wonderful creations off to the world…GO GRAB THE CAMERA!

And after a couple of quick clicks, the camera gets plugged into the computer, so he can share the T-Shirts with the world according to Facebook.

Holy crap.  I’ve got old stuff on here!

Anyone else have this happen?  You take a short series of shots because the muse points your vision at something you HAVE to take a picture of, you Oooooooh and Ahhhhh at the little view-screen on the back of the camera, and then tuck the camera away, completely forgetting the neat images you’ve caught?

Yea…me too.                                     All.  The.   Time.

I’ve got shots of the moon & cloud formations, taken in the fall, which didn’t turn out so well.  DELETE!

I’ve got shots of the candlelight shadows on the wall.  Looked good on the view-screen, not so much excitement on the computer screen.  DELETE!

I’ve got some random pictures of the cats being cats.  Cute, but I’ve got terabytes of the same.  DELETE!

I’ve got shots of me in my new over-the-shoulder camera rig.  GAWD!  There are 230(ish) reasons I stay BEHIND the camera.


a IMG_3447 cropI’ve got shots from the Feastival, which was the day after Thanksgiving…Ooooh.

This wasn’t a short, random shoot, and I remember several moments of pure delight as shots were captured – so I SHOULD have been excited to play with the SOOC images and tweak to perfection.  But the commute to and from was longish, late in the evening, and I had a wicked cold that weekend – so I’m gonna let that be my excuse for not immediately pulling the images from the camera.

That’s my story…and I’m sticking to it!


Ever have so much fun you go up in a little ‘poof’ of light?

The Feastival is a yearly event hosted by a local band and spinning tribe at the Concord House in Concord, Wisconsin – a tiny little unincorporated town mid-way between Madison and Milwaukee.  The House itself had its humble beginnings as a pole building for turkey farming before being turned into this very rustic dance/reception hall…and the family who run the House have been in the hospitality business for generations – so they KNOW how to host a rocking-good party.

The kids are well-immersed in the spinning/fire tribe that have made this an annual event – and this year convinced me to tag along.  As the weather had gotten cold, and the heater in their car isn’t working too well, the invite was part entreaty (pleeeeeeeeease don’t make us go alone and freeze our butts off all the way to Concord) part bribery (there’s food, music, alcohol, and a chance to point your camera at new things!) and part meet-the-parents (I’d not been introduced to the DIL(2B)’s side of the family yet).

How could I say no?

It was a great time.  I got to meet-the-parents (chilling for parents as well as the younger couples!!!) – availed myself of the array of yumminess spread by all members of the tribe (the Feastival is also a potluck) – and enjoyed the simple community energy generated by this group.

Make no mistake, this is a very grounded group.  They celebrate coming together to come together – not to measure their portfolios or show off their new acquisitions or any of the other stuff that people enmeshed in the throws of capitalism meet for (translation:  no dick-status-measuring here!).  The festival is …folk… centered on people, family, and community.  There’s no better way to describe it.


Otis Redding Tribute Band

Aside from the blues/R&B band – the floor show put on by the gatherers was spectacular.  This group create art with their bodies and props:  twirling hoops, poi and staff generate patterns in light vs. dark as they flow across the floor.

a IMG_3458 cropBecause this was an indoor event, and it was cold outside – they didn’t light their props on fire, but used much-less flammable LED lights embedded within their gear.

That I got to catch this amazing light-show was an honor.  One I hope to repeat as an annual thing.  Enjoy my shots!

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