When Steve and I were discussing me posting my writing, and the terms behind the £5 per week insentive, we decided what I post, could either be something new, written that day/week, or something old, and edited. I think the idea is to get me in the habit of editing, so I go and do it to one of the novels I’ve got finished (or nearly finished).
With that in mind, I thought for the first week that I posted some writing, it would be cool to post the last Fiction Friday piece I wrote. It was over a year ago, so I couldn’t remember it, but searched on my blog, and decided it was a good one.
If you’ve not heard of Fiction Friday, I’ll explain. The guys over at Write Anything, used to post a prompt for Fiction Friday. It could be a picture, a sentence, a snippet of a conversation, anything. Participants had to write, using the prompt for at least 5 minutes, then post their work on their blog, unedited.
When I first started ‘playing,’ it was terrifying. 1) Posting MY work, 2) Posting my work, UNEDITED. I got over the fear, and loved it. Unfotrunately, life got in the way, so I couldn’t ‘play’ as much as before, and I think the same happened for other participants, and Write Anything stopped doing it. It was a shame, I really miss it.
Like I said this following piece, is the final time I played. I used to post the prompt first, but I think this time, I’ll post the writing, then the prompt. I warn you, it’s not my usual pink and fluffy chick-lit, there’s a sci-fi feeling to it (Aliens, duh!).
Don’t worry. Don’t worry. It’s a hoax. Of course it’s a hoax. I mean, Aliens don’t exist do they? Of course they don’t.
Except I’ve always felt that they do. The universe is huge, and you can’t tell me, that in something as large as it is (which I can’t even comprehend), there’s no other intelligent life forms? Of course there is. But they’re certainly not coming to earth. And certainly not walking out of the microwave.
It has to be a hoax. Aliens walking out of microwaves. You couldn’t write about it, it’s so strange. But the BBC reported it. The BBC, one of the most credible news sources in the world reported it. They don’t do hoaxes. Not even on April 1st, and it’s not April 1st. Well maybe sometimes on April 1st, but it’s NOT April 1st.
It’s not, is it? Have I gone mad? It’s… When it is? My mind’s gone blank. It’s… Of course, it’s May 2nd. It’s Julie’s 10th Birthday tomorrow.
Julie. Julie and Billy. Where are they? Why aren’t they at home with Tom? He didn’t say they were all going out, and he would’ve told me. If they didn’t have any specific plans, they wouldn’t have got out the house this early. Not on a Saturday.
I try the land line again and it rings out. The feeling of dread grows. One of the kids always gets the phone. They race for it. It’s their greatest competition. So why aren’t they answering? They must be up. They can never stay in bed past 7am at the weekend. Ironic when you have to literally drag them out during the week. Those weekend cartoons!
I turn off my phone and throw evil looks at my stereo. Why isn’t it working. Of course I know Billy and his love of putting things in holes they don’t belong is what’s wrong. Sweets don’t fit well in the CD hole. God I hope he’s ok. I hope they’re all ok.
Is it me, or is the street quieter than it should be at ten to nine on a Saturday morning? I have no real way of knowing, I’m usually either at work, or still at home watching cartoons at this time, but it feels quieter. The whole way over, I’ve only see about three other cars. That can’t be right can it? Is something wrong? It is isn’t it? Oh no.
Words from the TV report I was watching flood my head as I pull up on our road. ‘Government warnings… Don’t use microwaves… waves are facilitating their descent to earth… Unplug… Do not use.’ Even though I’m less than 500 meters from home, I try the phone again.
Come on, come on. COME ON Tom. Answer the phone. Answer it. Damn.
That’s it. I can see the house. IT looks normal. Except that noise. What is that noise? Shit, it’s my heart. It’s not natural to beat that fast.
The curtains are still drawn. I can tell that the lounge light is on. Why the hell isn’t anyone answering the phone?
I pull up on the drive and am out the seat before I’ve got a chance to turn the ignition off. Sod the car. My hand’s trembling as I put the key in the lock. Shit, stay still hand. Stay still.
‘Kids! Tom!’ I shout as I finally get the door open.
‘MUM!’ I hear from the lounge, along with a scrambling sounds of them getting up and dashing to me.
‘Julie. Billy. My babies. You’re ok. You’re ok.’ They’re ok. Calm down. They’re ok. I want to hold them forever, never let them out of my sight again, but before I know it they’re off, back to whatever show they’re watching.
‘Why didn’t you answer the phone?’ I shout to their retreating backs.
‘Daddy says it’s broken,’ Billy shouts to me from in front of the TV. ‘The man from Bee Teas has to come and fix it.’
Of course. Of course. It’s been on the blink for a few days. OF course. Everyone’s ok.
‘Where’s your dad?’ I ask as I put my bag down on the sofa.
‘In the kitchen. I’m having a strawberry Nesquik.’
‘I’m having a chocolate one.’
‘Yes, but my Strawberry one is nicer…’
The sounds of them arguing fades as I realise the implications of what they’re saying. Julie likes it hot. Hot milk means Microwave. NOOOOOOOO.
‘TOM!’ I turn immediately and run down the hall. ‘TOM! TOOOMMMMM!’ I hear nothing except the sound of my blood running through my veins and my breathing. The kitchen door is closed. Shit. Why’s the kitchen door closed?
I freeze for a second when I get to the door, terrified of what’s behind it. ‘Tom?’ I slowly open the door. ‘To…’
Tom is standing immediately inside the kitchen. His face freezes me. I’ve never seen such a look of horror on anyone. I’ve never understood what people mean when they say someone’s gone white. Tom is practically translucent. His dark eyes look hollow, and he’s actually trembling. It doesn’t take me long to realise why. Running round the floor are… things. Hundreds and hundreds of things. Not just the floor, the worktop, the table, the chairs. They’re climbing up the cupboards, and… oh god, they’re all over the ceiling. Every surface of the kitchen is covered in white things running about. So many of them it looks like a wave of white over everything. They’re moving too fast for me to see what they are, but they look like… It sounds crazy but they look like Stigs. One inch high Stigs. Yes, Stigs from TVs Top Gear. I think they look like one inch men with huge white heads and white boiler suits.
I can tell the look on Tom’s face is reflected in mine as they start coming out the kitchen and filling the hall. What the hell? I’m frozen. I’m not even exaggerating. They’ve done something and I can’t move. Nothing. Not my arm, not my legs.
Oh god the kids. I can’t see behind me, but I imagine they’re scurrying for the lounge. They’re so quiet though.
‘Daaaad! Where’s my Nesquik?’ It’s the last thing I hear before I black out.
When I come to, everything’s white and cold…
The prompt it came from is:
The government has issued a warning that a particular (and common) household item has begun to have an unusual side effect on pets ( or children, or adults) . You realise that own this item and cannot contact anyone at home to check or warn them. When you arrive, you see…
So, did you like it? Did you love it? Did you think it was any good at all, or did it bore you? Are you still even reading this? Please, let me know your thoughts, I can take negative, as well as positive.