Thursday, December 25, 2014
In general when a story gets rejected by one place it gets sent out to another. No big deal, just the way things are, most stories are going to get rejected. Yesterday a story subbed in August got rejected, on Christmas Eve, with negative reader comments, couldn't they have waited another couple of days?
Thursday, December 11, 2014
Saturday, November 15, 2014
One of the publishers of flash fiction not only reads your work but they even send back comments. This is what I got back on a very short work (200 words):
Thank you for submitting to xxxxx xxxxx xxxxx. We have decided not to publish your piece, "Xxx Xxxx". Some reader comments:
Thank you for submitting to xxxxx xxxxx xxxxx. We have decided not to publish your piece, "Xxx Xxxx". Some reader comments:
"This was funny. Amusing. I know it was a build up for a punchline, but I liked it. It made me laugh. I can picture the over-dramatized man, struggling with this terrible 'burden', only to find out it's a lawn mower. It's clever. I guess I like that it starts out super-dramatized, but it's all for a laugh."One out of four liked it, I'll take that as a win. It was only 200 words long, their comments run 198 words.
"I'm not charmed. I felt this relied on narrative tricks to get readers to like the piece. A lot of space was wasted on describing heat; that bored me. The piece doesn't go anywhere because there's no story here."
"The setup didn't interest me, and I didn't find the joke reveal at the end funny."
"There's no story here for me to emotionally invest in, because the whole piece is just a setup to a punchline. I almost never enjoy twist endings because I feel they deliberately mislead readers. Essentially, they set up a situation in which the joke is on the reader. I prefer a narrative style that takes readers into its confidence and treats them with respect. I say: put aside the cheap-twist gimmick and just tell me a good story with solid layers of humor and depth."
Best of luck, and please feel free to submit to us again in the future,
Sunday, November 2, 2014
https://drive.google.com/file/d/0B6rWM60jINiidnc5R1lMSkxHNzA/view
The author reads a bit of his story, I would like to hear him read my story in the same collection. Read it yourself in Cutthroats and Curses, priced at almost nothing on Amazon and the link is here on this blog.
The author reads a bit of his story, I would like to hear him read my story in the same collection. Read it yourself in Cutthroats and Curses, priced at almost nothing on Amazon and the link is here on this blog.
https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/488846
I have a story in this collection, tried to sell it around but no takers so I gave it away. Hard to sell a holiday themed story. As I wasn't the only one willing to give away a story the whole collection is free at the moment on Smashwords, get it while you can.
I have a story in this collection, tried to sell it around but no takers so I gave it away. Hard to sell a holiday themed story. As I wasn't the only one willing to give away a story the whole collection is free at the moment on Smashwords, get it while you can.
Monday, October 20, 2014
Novo Pulp teaser
My name is on the list so watch this spot for more news when it goes on sale. A straight up sci/fi story about a relationship, not much humor and no horror. Not the kind of thing I have posted here on the blog.
My name is on the list so watch this spot for more news when it goes on sale. A straight up sci/fi story about a relationship, not much humor and no horror. Not the kind of thing I have posted here on the blog.
Tuesday, October 14, 2014
Monday, October 6, 2014
Wolf Tears
The wolf is at the door, hungry like
the wolf, wolf in sheep's clothing, cry wolf, like a pack of wolves
howling in the night the nonsense collection of wolf idioms ran
through her mind.
Why wolves? She was hungry and
wolves are supposed to be ravenous, must be the reason why.
The door to her room was locked, not to
keep the wolves at bay but to keep her inside with the pack howling
in her head.
Friday, October 3, 2014
Monday, September 29, 2014
Blank White Walls
Blank white walls, they were a perfect
metaphor for her life. Blank, empty and devoid of detail, her mind
was a void.
They tell her she was in an accident,
they tell her she had been depressed and may have attempted suicide.
That explained why they treated her the way they did and the lack of
sharp objects in the room, not even a mirror to break.
She sat on her bed staring at the wall
wondering who she was, why had she been so unhappy and thinking she
might not want to hear the answers.
Saturday, September 27, 2014
Just Like a Spork
Everybody had said, “It will never
work, they are too different, divorced in a month.” But Fred and
June had been together for fifteen glorious years. Sure it hadn't
been easy with the differences and all but they made it work.
Compromise was the key.
Now even with all the years behind them
the naysayers chorus was once again in full swing, “How will they
raise the child? Who gets to decide? It will never work.”
Yes, they were still different, they
were still each individuals yet they were also a couple. A happy
couple who had a challenge before them but not one that their love
couldn't overcome.
The decision would be left to God and a
coin toss, heads and little Patrick O’Brien would be raised
Catholic and tails Protestant.
Wednesday, September 24, 2014
http://lilliemcferrin.com/five-sentence-fiction-wheels/
The great wheel turned, days passed and the grief receded.
She gripped the steering wheel and over corrected in the deceptively tight curve. The rain slick road and her lack of concentration worked in tandem to send her off the embankment. She cursed her fug as the car tipped over the edge.
Time slowed to a near stop as it will when such things happen, she wondered if this is what it had felt like for him as he fell.
The great wheel turned, days passed and the grief receded.
She gripped the steering wheel and over corrected in the deceptively tight curve. The rain slick road and her lack of concentration worked in tandem to send her off the embankment. She cursed her fug as the car tipped over the edge.
Time slowed to a near stop as it will when such things happen, she wondered if this is what it had felt like for him as he fell.
Friday, July 18, 2014
Watching in the Rain
It was raining. The perfect weather for
her mood.
She watched the couple dance in joy as
if it was a sunny day or starry night, she had felt that way once.
Their happiness and love couldn't break her bubble of depression.
No, her bubble wall was growing
stronger each day since her husband had jumped to his death.
Wednesday, July 16, 2014
A random page from Capt. Tea and the Man in Black, my story in Cutthroats and Curses anthology on Amazon. Much of the story was written with a Sheaffer school pen loaded with Noodler's Rome Burning ink. It didn't make it easy for me later when I typed it out on the computer.
So, how many of you write in notebooks? How about with fountain pens?
So, how many of you write in notebooks? How about with fountain pens?
Sunday, July 13, 2014
Stone Angel
VisDare 69: Vigilant
Each morning he walked by the angel. At
first he looked and marveled at the beauty and the pose,
In time he quit seeing her, she became
no more than a mile marker showing how much further he had to walk.
Each night he walked by the angel. At
first he looked at her wings and was awestruck by the detailed
feathers. Her unsteady seat and the curve of her back made her look
alive. In time she became a landmark telling him he was almost to the
market where he would purchase his dinner.
This morning she watched him, he didn't
notice. A tear ran down her cheek.
Tonight she rose from her seat and
spoke to him, “You have walked far enough.”
His eyes open to the sky, the rain
fell, he had walked far enough.
There was page after page of documents.
Filled with legal terms and jargon that only a lawyer could
understand. The man from the insurance company was far more jovial
than she take at the moment, he wouldn't take a hint from her body
language. He kept referring to an investigation pending and how it
would alter the terms and payout. Even without the extra payout for
an accident her husband was proving to be worth more dead than alive.
Monday, July 7, 2014
The Ear Worm
visdare-68-precarious
I was walking through the desert with the Beetles song
Norwegian Wood stuck in my head. The longer I walked the
louder it got until it was almost deafening. Over and over
it replayed as I continued on.
A loose stone and a careless step sent me tumbling. The
song stopped and its absence was a shock worse than the fall.
Surrounded by sand, rock and silence I felt truly alone.
I was not just lost but alone.
The sun beat down but I continued on.
Rocks reminded me of chess pieces. Chess pieces reminded me
of Murray Head's One Night in Bangkok.
I no longer walked in silence.
Monday, June 30, 2014
New Shoes pt2
This is the 321 word version
“Well Detective we can tell you more
once we get her down to the morgue but it looks like she was beaten
by the classic blunt object and dumped here. Time of death would
have been early last night from the liver temp”, Tommy the medical
examiner's assistant gave his report to Detective Rob Mosley.
“Her shoes were on top of the bag,
what's up with that Rob?”, his young partner James Hoyle asked.
Hoyle would ask such questions fully expecting Rob to have the
answer. Rob couldn’t tell if the boy was stupid or suffering from a
case of hero worship, either way it irritated him.
“No idea Jimmy, could be she wasn't
wearing them when she was killed.”
“Well she is fully dressed and no
signs of rape, must have been the husband.” Hoyle went for the
husband every time, usually that is a good bet.
“That her purse?” Rob nodded
toward a purse on the ground next to the body.
“It was in the bag with her when I
took her out” Tommy replied, “guess it is but you're the
detective.”
It had been hers, no husband, no
steady boyfriend so they were off to talk to the co-workers.
They arrived at the office where she
had worked. A small room on a floor of a building filled with similar
rooms. A middle aged woman sat at a cheap desk ginning at them. A
broken and bloody lamp was on the desk and blood stained the floor.
The woman seemed to take no notice. The office manger told the
detectives the woman's name was Linda Smith, a plain name. The woman
was anything but plain, she was the most beautiful woman Rob had ever
seen.
“Miss Smith? I would like to ask you
about Miss Betty Wright.”
“Betty is dead, she had big feet.”
“Excuse me?”
“Yes, she had big feet, her shoes
didn't fit me at all.”
New Shoes
The shoes didn't fit. The whole point
had been to get the shoes and they just didn't fit. Such a waste of
time and effort.
Betty had always lorded it over Linda,
her higher pay, her better clothes, her dates, her extra title at
work, just everything. Linda hated Betty and felt justified in doing
so.
In little ways Linda got some revenge,
when Betty would brag about the rich man she had slept with the night
before Linda would take her pen when she was away form her desk. It
would give Linda satisfaction but Betty never noticed. Linda would
think about it for days and smile, imagining Betty looking for the
lost pen. Betty though would just pull another pen out of her drawer
and not even give it a thought, pens were nothing to her.
One morning Betty was late to work,
Linda had been there ten minutes early as normal, waiting. Betty had a
key, Linda didn't. Linda stood by the door waiting, imagining that
Betty had taken home a murderer from a night club and was now hanging
over a bathtub like a side of beef, her life blood slow dripping down
the drain. The thought made her smile and brightened her day.
Her smile remained fixed but her eyes
had no trace of joy when Betty arrived. The office was small, two
desks, Betty had her name on the door Linda had her name on the
smaller desk. Both desks were cheap but Betty's was wood. Once at
work the door remained open so Betty could see the people from other
offices walk by, Linda closed it when Betty was out. Linda didn't
want to see the others, she hated them all.
Betty had new shoes, they were very
expensive so she made it a point to show them off to Linda.
“Italian”, “perfect fit”, “feel so nice”, “cost as much
as you make in a week”, all the hurtful things that just rolled off
her hateful tongue. Linda imagined the gross things that tongue must
have touched to get those shoes and smiled. Betty took that smile as
friendly interest, Betty had never understood Linda and treated her
like she would have treated anyone else.
Because Betty had been late to work
and had spent so much time showing off her shoes she hadn't finished
her work and had asked Linda to stay over with her. Linda agreed, she
always agreed. Another pen vanished from Betty's desk.
The rest of the floor was empty, only
Linda and Betty remained. Betty was holding up a leg moving her foot
back and forth once again admiring her new shoes. Linda hit her in
the back of the head with her desk lamp. Years of rage were in the
blow. Her imagined injustices gave her the strength to hit over and
over. Betty never noticed, the first blow had seen to that but Linda
had a lot of pent up fury to work out. As the blows faded Linda felt
exhausted but more at ease than she had in years. She sat back and
enjoyed the feeling letting a warm glow wash over her, she so rarely
experienced such joy.
With Betty shoved in a mail bag Linda
tried on the shoes. They didn't fit. Linda pouted and gave the bag a
kick.
Sunday, June 29, 2014
five sentence fiction dazzles
She cut down her wedding gown to wear for the dance. It was the dress she had worn the day he died. She felt it was a fitting tribute to her late husband. A dazzling dance in virginal white at his funeral rather than an eulogy. He would have hated it.
She cut down her wedding gown to wear for the dance. It was the dress she had worn the day he died. She felt it was a fitting tribute to her late husband. A dazzling dance in virginal white at his funeral rather than an eulogy. He would have hated it.
Saturday, June 28, 2014
Wednesday, June 25, 2014
Marigje and Max
1317 had been a
year of famine but not for Marigje and Max, no it had been a feast
year for them.
Marigje was old,
she didn't even know how old but she was old enough to have taken up
cackling. Her only friend was Max, a rather distasteful cat that
never purred and only killed for sport. They really were well suited
to each other.
They lived deep
in the woods, so deep that wolves couldn't find their way out if they
found themselves in her yard. But any wolf that was so careless as to
find itself there deserved to be removed from the gene pool.
A welcome sight
greeted the duo that sunny morning. Walking down the path two
children, a boy and a girl, hand in hand. Yet another pair of
siblings abandoned by their parents.
Yes, Marigje and
Max were having dinner delivered tonight.
Tuesday, June 24, 2014
Bo shuffled along, his legs barely
able to carry the very little left of a once proud horse. He hadn't
eaten in days, food no longer interested him. When he was a young
horse rocks had been placed to slow his eating, now grated carrots to
try to spur him into taking a bite.
Liz had called him “little red goat”
years back when he ate poison ivy out of the trees. He would want to
come give you a horse kiss afterward. You didn't want that.
Bo, then good old Bo and at last poor
old Bo. He aged hard at the end but only a few weeks before he had
run like a colt with the youngest mare, he even bucked. But that
would leave him sore the next day, still it was good to see.
The last few days he didn't come with
the other horses for meals. I had to go find him, each time expecting
the worst. The other horses would go to him after he was found and
walk him to the barn. Yesterday Lucy, an old maid of a mare, gently
pushed him along, letting him rest but keeping him going in the right
direction. He didn't even eat the grated carrot. His face felt cool
as did his ears, a horse should be warm not cold.
This morning he didn't show up so once
again I went searching for what I expected to be a dead horse. I
found him at last in the old graveyard in the woods. From the
condition of the leaves and ground he had been walking in circles
around a small tree, dragging his back feet in his unsteady shuffle.
He was hanging on, forcing me to make the calls I didn't want to
make.
I reached the excavator and arranged
for him to come this afternoon to act as undertaker. The vet is very
close by and she stopped by between other farm calls. It wouldn't
take her very long to do her job. She sent me to keep the other
horses back saying she could hold him and give the shot. She warned
us that we would hear him fall. I turned back too soon and saw him
fall, he was dead before he hit the ground.
Bo was my horse, my wife and I have
horses but Bo was mine. She bought him for me when we were first
married and we spent many happy hours in those days riding. She on
her big bay mare Apple Pooh and me on little red Bo. We have all
grown older, pooh has been dead for a few years and now so is Bo.
Monday, June 23, 2014
“Hey Bob, we're down here with the
body.”
The county Coroner, Bob Winston, eased
his bulk down the steep hill while the deputies grinned at his
unsteady progress. He slid and almost fell before the chain link
fence saved him from that indignity.
Holding on to the fence he asked the
deputy,”Where is it?”
“Inside the wolf enclosure but
between the fall and the wolves there isn't much left”, the deputy
replied with a lupine grin.
Sunday, June 22, 2014
Today must be Tuesday because the news is here.
www.amazon.com/Cutthroats-Curses-Anthology
I am published.
www.amazon.com/Cutthroats-Curses-Anthology
I am published.
Friday, June 20, 2014
Sunday, June 15, 2014
Too Far
After the fight he rode off on his
bicycle in the dark. He pedaled on brooding all night, reliving every
hurtful word as he went.
The sun rose before him its beauty
melting away his resentment. He saw a phone booth ahead and coasted
to a stop.
“Lilly? I'm sorry. Can you come get
me?”
Friday, June 13, 2014
http://lilliemcferrin.com/five-sentence-fiction-wishes/
I wish I had thought about the consequences before I chose this course. I may have been too rash, I may have been too hasty. It doesn't really matter now there are some things you just can't take back. What is the old saying, you can't un-ring a bell? Most of all right now; I wish I hadn't jumped off that chair lift.
I wish I had thought about the consequences before I chose this course. I may have been too rash, I may have been too hasty. It doesn't really matter now there are some things you just can't take back. What is the old saying, you can't un-ring a bell? Most of all right now; I wish I hadn't jumped off that chair lift.
Tuesday, June 3, 2014
A second story for http://lilliemcferrin.com/five-sentence-fiction-marriage/
This chair lift ride had been a whimsical last minute addition to the ceremony, I knew it was a sign.
She had accepted my proposal, it was because of her upraising, she wanted to please. I knew I would be nothing but a burden, a millstone hung around her neck. In time she would grow to hate me and I couldn't live like that so I may as well speed things up. When we reached the highest point I slipped under the safety bar, it was the greatest gift I could give her; she is free.
This chair lift ride had been a whimsical last minute addition to the ceremony, I knew it was a sign.
She had accepted my proposal, it was because of her upraising, she wanted to please. I knew I would be nothing but a burden, a millstone hung around her neck. In time she would grow to hate me and I couldn't live like that so I may as well speed things up. When we reached the highest point I slipped under the safety bar, it was the greatest gift I could give her; she is free.
Thursday, May 29, 2014
In For a Ride
By: Boyd Miles
for http://lilliemcferrin.com/five-sentence-fiction-marriage/
She had not mentioned this part, a ski lift. What was she going to think of him now? Her brand new husband frozen in fear because of his acrophobia, not the best way to start a marriage.
She started to rock the car laughing madly, "let's do the roller coaster next", she cried out between bursts of laughter.
When he jumped into this marriage he didn't know how high a jump it would be.
By: Boyd Miles
for http://lilliemcferrin.com/five-sentence-fiction-marriage/
She had not mentioned this part, a ski lift. What was she going to think of him now? Her brand new husband frozen in fear because of his acrophobia, not the best way to start a marriage.
She started to rock the car laughing madly, "let's do the roller coaster next", she cried out between bursts of laughter.
When he jumped into this marriage he didn't know how high a jump it would be.
Wednesday, May 28, 2014
How about I muddy the waters and post a link to my other web location. Historical reproductions and good for Steampunk items. I don't do custom work but do take suggestions. Go to the web site, look around, it is poorly organized just like me. Some non fiction articles hidden around if you look hard enough. boydmiles.com
Fit For A King
by Boyd Miles
105 words for VisDare
63: Poison
He had spent a full moon cycle on the
planet the residents called “Earth”. Funny how every planet seems
to have the same name just a different word for it.
From talking to the residents he found
what he was searching for, a gift for his king. Not just any ordinary
gift but a living creature. One that all the Earthlings he met had
agreed was the most dangerous creature on the planet.
“Your Majesty”, he proclaimed
before the royal court, “the most dangerous creature known on the
planet called Earth”, as he pulled the drape off a large bottle
marked poison, “an Earth woman.”
Saturday, May 24, 2014
This one is for: http://anonymouslegacy1.wordpress.com/2014/05/21/visdare-62-opportunity/
The Ride
By Boyd Miles
150 words
The Ride
By Boyd Miles
150 words
How much longer? I can't keep this up
but I have to.
“Try to keep her breathing, they
think they can shut it off safely. Just try to keep going.”
Yeah right, easy for the fireman to
say he is on the ground not swinging back and forth trying to keep
some woman alive. Lucky me to end up in a cart with a woman that was
going to die of fright or something.
It had started off just fine, she was
laughing I was laughing then we saw a gear go rolling across the
pavement. Then the kid operating the ride ran off and alarm bells
began to ring. She quit breathing and I had to be the hero.
“We are going to start slowing the
ride, just hold on.”
The cart stopped and the firemen
rushed on. I walked away. Should have gotten her number before the
ride.
Friday, May 23, 2014
The Anchor
By Boyd Miles
The Sun dimmed above him as he sank.
Dan O'Seay had finally found just what it would take to get the
level headed Captain Manz to turn murderous.
Sinking fast tied to the ship's anchor
Dan knew that he couldn't hold his breath long enough to make it back
up even if the Captain changed his mind. He wondered, watching the
sun dim through the bubbles of his last exhale if he would be around
to feel the jerk when the chain ran out.
The sun, or Dan went dark.
Thursday, May 22, 2014
This one got posted on http://www.officemango.com/2014/05/horror-bite-challenge-5/
It is awaiting approval there so read it here first:
It is awaiting approval there so read it here first:
The Moth
by Boyd Miles
about 680 words
The moth landed on her eye. She
didn't blink, she would never blink again. He watched in fascination
as it walked about and occasionally shook its wings. How long he
watched he didn't know. Time seemed to have stopped. It was dark but
not dark enough to keep him from seeing the moth walk around on her
unseeing eye.
It had been a spur of the moment
decision, the trip. Just a quick run over to the Highlands of
Virginia to buy some maple syrup candy. A silly excuse but it was all
they needed. A drive through the mountains looking at the scenery and
if they found a place that sold the candy all the better but if not
it didn't matter. They had lunch at a dive and joked about how it
would probably kill them from food poisoning. It didn't.
They came around a curve with the
lowering sun nearly binding them with its glare. A truck was stopped
in the road. He hit the brakes and skidded in the curve. Over steered
and went over the bank, crashing through the brush and rocks. He
thought first of the car, how were they going to get home with a
wrecked car? As they went further he began to fear for his wife and
himself, the brush and rocks didn't slow him as much as the sheer
drop sped their decent. They hit a rock hard enough to set off the
airbags but not big enough to stop them and now they continued on
blind.
The car began to roll and he lost
consciousness.
He came to hanging upside down with
the steering wheel pinning him in place. He didn't feel any pain and
was too pinned to move much of anything. He looked to his wife and
just knew without touching her that she was dead. There was nothing
there of her, just a shell of the woman he loved.
A moth landed on her eye and she
didn't blink.
It was getting darker. He didn't know
if he was passing out or it was really getting darker but it had been
late in the day when he went off the road. There was a noise outside
and small rocks and dirt slid down the mountainside. The rocks
pinging against the car. He could turn his head a bit, not much but
he could see the rear view mirror. In the mirror boots, then legs
appeared. Two men were scrambling down the new path made by his
crashing car. He felt relief, followed instantly by remorse. He was
going to be rescued but nothing could save her. It was too late for
her. No, he would get to live on with the guilt. He would ask himself
why had he driven here, why had he been going too fast, why wasn't he
paying more attention to the road. Questions he knew he would be
asking the rest of his life.
The two men arrived. He called out to
them but they didn't respond. They went around to the other side of
the car and with what looked to be a great effort tore the passenger
door open. It was too dark to see and now there was blood running
into his right eye. He couldn't see them but could tell they undid or
cut her seat belt. They grabbed her roughly and the moth flew off her
eye and flitted around the car. They pulled her out and off beyond
his field of vision. He guessed they were checking her for any signs
of life and then would come get him out.
More rocks and dirt rained down and he
could see in the mirror as they drug her up the hill by her legs. It
was getting darker and he couldn't move his head enough to watch but
for a moment before they were gone.
As night came on the temperature
dropped. The moth landed on his lips and he couldn't brush it off. It
walked around tickling his lips. Almost like a kiss goodnight.
post removed for submission to: http://jamesanthologies.com/
They are looking for 50 stories for a charity project.
They are looking for 50 stories for a charity project.
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