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Monday, 24 August 2015

First of the Month Fiction

Story first, explanation later:


She stood looking at the wall, behind which her girlfriend was packing a bag. There is a rot that has set in, she thought to herself. Barely noticeable at first, but slowly it eats away to the core, making the structure weak. Tainting everything, spreading over their lives.

She heard the bag zip shut, footsteps and a door slam. No goodbye.

She put down her cup of tea and looked at her phone. She pulled up the search from yesterday and dialled the number.

“Hello? We have a problem.”

“Yes, in our kitchen.” She responded.

“Great. Thanks. See you then”




This story was prompted by this photo on a road overpass. I don't actually know if it's concrete rot or not. It looks distressed in any case.







My partner also complained I always make the men in the story nasty (to which I argue I make everyone in the stories nasty, regardless of gender). However, I will take his 'criticism' as a note that I am too conservative in my world view, so in future, I'll mix it up and share the misery around. Thus this time, it's an unhappy same sex couple.

By now you know the drill, but anyone new, in the comments add your 100 word story (exactly) or a story less than 30 words, then link up your blog if you have one....

Have a wonderful September, everyone!

Linking up with #MummyMondays





23 comments:

  1. Another intriguing paragraph- do you ever finish these?

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  2. I love how inspiration comes from the oddest places.

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  3. I love this, is it a part of something bigger?

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  4. I have to confess I didn't know there was such a thing as concrete rot.

    I'm intrigued about who she was calling!

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  5. Why did the girlfriend leave?
    What is the problem? The rot, or something deeper?

    Ok, here I go.

    It had been twenty years since all four of them had been together. Back then, it was a wedding. Today, it was a much more sombre event.
    'She would be happy we are all here,' Sophie said.
    'She's been waiting for a long time,' agreed Steph.
    'Oh, and I suppose that it's all my fault,' Sally spat, always ready to pick a fight. Always hiding her pain behind anger.
    'No Sally, it's no one's fault. We were just busy. All of us. Her too. Too busy living. She can't be angry about that,' the youngest whispered. 'Not now.'

    I confess it's 98 words. Any more and I would have kept going.

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    1. Joyous wedding and spat viciously. That's 100. Love it. Very Big Chill....(loved that!) Thanks again for joining in...I love your stories...

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    2. A wake? Or is that too obvious?

      Last few words are always the hardest

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  6. Thanks a lot for your kind comment on my latest post, Lydia!
    All the best from Germany,
    Uwe.

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  7. I'm not good with fiction so I won't take part today, though I used to spend all my teenage years writing love stories young adult style! Haha. #TeamIBOT

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  8. Do you ever take your 100 words and turn them into something more? Or are you satisfied with them the way they are?

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  9. Loving the same sex couple. I like the double meaning of the rot setting in.

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  10. Love this, and love that such beautiful words were inspired by such a banal thing as concrete rot!

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  11. I like this because I didn't pick up on the same sex couple thing at first so it was a nice little twist. Not terribly happy with mine but here it is anyway:

    The darkened street echoed with eerie silence. She watched from the window. There was no moon, no breeze, no emotion. Just the emptiness. Idly she wondered what would happen if she opened the door and walked out into the night. If she just kept walking. Would there ever be an edge to the darkness? Would anybody notice she was gone? Bu she had gone, she realised. And nobody did notice. She looked down at her sodden, aching chest and thought she’d been shot. She realised she didn’t care. Her limbs were heavier now. She willed the blackness to finally come.

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    1. Nice! Very black...I like it!!! I also added your blog at the same time you added your blog (and now I can't delete it...no idea why...what a goose I am!!)

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    2. LOL I'm a bigger goose, I didn't read this at first and thought I did it twice. Thanks for the kind words.

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  12. Oops. Sorry for the double link up. My internet connection was being a dick so I thought it didn't work. Not sure how to delete.

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  13. Nice twist! Perhaps you could publish all of your mini stories as a collection...
    #TeamMM

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  14. I'd initially named both characters but decided to leave out that of the subject as it was a bit close to that of a colleague (who is not in a same sex relationship and doesn't appear to have a troubled past or a history of intravenous drug use).

    Does anyone else find it easier to write about darker things?


    The harbour bridge looked its usual magnificent self that night. The view from their McMahons Point apartment was superb, all sparkly against the city skyline. The view was no compensation for the hole she now had in her life after the sudden death of her partner Janine. Janine was the one who had initiated her into the sexy Sydney lifestyle, a far cry from her life in and out of foster homes but now that was all unravelling. She now found comfort in an old routine, one she’d hoped to forget. Candle, teaspoon, H, needle. Her own light now out.

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    1. It's funny how much you can pack into 100 words. Good one!! As for the darker stories, Theroux touches on it - dicussed here: http://pandoraandmax.blogspot.com.au/2015/04/happiness-and-first-of-month-fiction.html I was worried about what it said to me (but I figure it counters my inspirational writing elsewhere, so it's ok...now I know it just means mediocrity, apparently...;) Do you have a blog to link???

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    2. It read better at 128 words..

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  15. I'm a bit late, but I made it over to participate! So, I'm not sure if rot does actually become potholes, but for the purposes of my story, it does :) My ending has been prompted by another photo I have seen lately - I wish I could work out how to add it in this comment!

    *****

    She stared at the road, trying to determine what was going on with the concrete.

    It looks like the sand balls on a beach that crabs have made. Strange. And it had been getting progressively worse; breaking away, getting more and more holey. In places, the rot had become potholes the size of basketballs, and yet Council would do nothing about it.

    She smiled to herself. “I’ll fix it tonight. Make them do something.”

    The next morning, drivers were shaking their heads as they made their way to school and work. Some crazy person had planted flowers in the road.

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    1. Not late - 7 more days!! That's great...funny how we were both inspired by flawed construction...I love the flowers, made me laugh!

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