Christmas is almost upon us and that has meant a real lack of available writing time. Working in the wine industry (for some reason, don’t ask me why, we get very busy this time of year) and the introduction of an adorable puppy to our household, have both conspired to take up most of my time.
I have managed to do odds and sods on the short story I’m working on though and I’m probably now around halfway through. The website I hope to submit to has a deadline of 15 Jan, so I must use the festive period and days off work to achieve serious word countage. Fingers crossed.
While you’re all feeling festive and merry, here’s another weird 150 to drag you back to world of bleak. It was inspired by the picture above taken while out walking the dog the other day, then manipulated to crowbar in the prompt word of a flash fiction story competition (‘chime’):
It’s amazing how quickly things can disappear from memory. Even things which, at the time, seemed like the most important things in the world.
It had only been around eight years since I was last inside, but until the ghostly clang of the chimes snatched my attention when I passed by today, I can honestly say I hadn’t thought about that house at all, nor the acts perpetrated inside.
The MOD had stopped using it a few years beforehand and it quickly became derelict. Why anyone would want to purchase such a dump was beyond me, but I was happy to show them around regardless. The roof had caved almost completely and the windows were but jagged shards, protruding with a threat to slice. Twisted weeds obscured all surrounding paths making both entry and exit of the grounds almost impossible.
Of course, it was only me that ever left.