Under a Mackerel Sky

Yet more finishing old stuff that I started but didn’t complete. I’m gradually getting their numbers down. I decided that I was going to start all projects in and Unfinished pieces folder and only move them after I've finished them. That way they gang up and glare at me balefully. So instead of skipping merrily off with a new project, I need to slink off shamefacedly, suffering the accusing stares of things that need just a few hundred more words, or a couple more paragraphs.

This challenge was was go to an online dictionary and pick a word or phrase you liked. I chose Mackerel Sky, thinking back of a photo of mine (which it seems I have lost due to my erratic system of backups... damn). My picture wasn’t exactly a mackerel sky - but a rainbow effect in the clouds that I’ve seen twice in Vietnam... without an overly abnormal amount of booze in my system.

To give you an idea of what a mackerel sky looks like here you go:

Obviously not my picture. Tho says I am a rank amateur with a camera. Picture taken from here

Under a Mackerel Sky

Old Man Johnson looked to the horizon. “Gonna be a damn fine sunset,” he said, and spat. The gobbet of tobacco and phlegm spattered on the wooden boards, causing him to smile. Lukey grabbed a twig, and started poking it - and that made him smile. Being only seven, Lukey was easily amused. He could find endless entertainment in this activity, at least until dragged away. Rita let him have his fun for the time being. The moment he began reaching out an inquisitive finger, she grabbed him by the shoulder and took him in back to “help” her get a top-up for the old-timer. When they returned, the stick and the sputum were forgotten. Old Man Johnson smacked his gummy lips appreciatively. As his rheumy eyes swung back to the clouds, the mug made frequent trips to his mouth, barely causing a pause in his rambling monologue. Rita, too, returned to what she had been doing - peeling potatoes. There were always potatoes to be peeled, and the repetitive action went well with the mindless background noise of Old Man Johnson’s slurps and mutters. “Keep where I can see you,” she said to Lukey. But just as she was only barely aware of her customers’ conversation, so too was the boy’s focus elsewhere.

Lukey loved the bar at this time of day - the lengthening shadows and random piles of scrap were adequate fuel for all sorts of adventures to his fertile imagination. Currently, he was hopping excitedly from stone to stone in the garden, tracking an early cricket that had started tuning up before the performance of the evening’s symphony. In his mind, he was stealthy - like a ninja creeping towards an unsuspecting target. His footsteps were hardly silent, and even if they were, his giggles would have given him away. Before long though his noble opponent had conquered his attention span. Here, by one of the paving stones, was the last wildflower of the season, small and blue but so easy to overlook. Reaching out, he plucked it from the stem carefully, to give to Rita later.

“Git yerself up here boy! Quick now, afore it goes!” yelled Old Man Johnson from the porch. Turning, Lukey ran, hopping and jiggering up their stairs on alternate legs his arms pin-wheeling for balance. Patting the stool next to him, Old Man Johnson had ceased his continuous ruminations to look up at the clouds. Lukey sat down, eyes nearly as wide as his open mouth. “That’s what I’m talking about boy. You remember that sort of beauty for the rest of your life. It’ll get you through some scrapes and scares that will.”


The heavy folder of the Antwerp account thunked into Lucas’s desk, derailing his happy daydreaming. “Report due Thursday,” his supervisor sneered, walking off. Shaking himself from the heady combination of nostalgia infused with daydreaming, Lucas tried to bring himself back to the world of spreadsheets, cubicles and grey dividers. Dragging some printouts towards him he reached for a pencil and tried to focus. He swivelled morosely on his chair, looking to exorcise joyful thoughts with numbers and order forms, before realising that he had things back-to-front. “After work I’m going to go visit Old Man Johnson,” he muttered to himself “and I’m going to walk in the park afterwards!” The guys across the walkway from him looked up at the sound of his voice but Lucas just smiled, happy with his new direction in life.

Cocktails

A list of five “A” words, with 100 words extra to flash out a story. This weeks 100 word challenge. At first I was thinking of doing a crash, but screw that, let’s extend our stay on a tropical isle! And just to get you in the mood if its winter in your neck of the woods, here’s a picture:

Picture source here

Cocktails

Ahhh...  beaches. What could be better? A hammock, cocktails, and a limitless aquamarine ocean. Serenity at its best. So what if the aeroplane leaves soon? We still have plenty of time! After another drink or two, we can think about heading back to the hotel and packing up.

As always, two drinks turned into more. Suddenly aghast, we’re late! A scene (cause by all the cocktails) at the reception desk of the hotel and an altercation with the taxi driver slow us even more. Yet at the gate when we’re told “I am sorry ladies, your plane has already departed,” you acted shocked!

Imagozen

I’m going through my backlog of stuff I started, and finishing it. It took a while to fish out all the little scraps and put them all in one spot, but now I’ve got them nailed down, I can tick them off when I get them done. This one is from ages ago, July by the date in the link (holy shit, that can’t be right, can it?). We need an apocalypse, but a different sort from one that’s been done to death.

 

Imagozen

Everything was on the up and up. Things were going swimmingly... the Middle East wasn’t exactly at peace but there was some progress. The stock markets were up, logging of the rain forests was down. Man was on his way to Mars, and most amazing of all, Cleveland is in with a chance to win the World Series. See? Not too shabby. A shame that was all about to change...

For this is not the only place where life is to be found. Yeah yeah, I know what you’re thinking - those fine fella’s in the lab-coats haven’t found proof of what I’m saying, so why take me at my word? Just listen patiently, and when this story’s told think back and see if I’m right. I bet this is the last great tall tale ever told. That’s unfortunate on two counts... it’s not that great, and it’s the truth, honest injun.

Like I said, the Earth ain’t the only place where thought goes on, and humans are not even the top of the heap. Its not like they thought back in B-grade movies, they’re not coming here to eat us or mine our atmosphere. Nor is it going to be a case of Kirk making sweet love to a range of alien women each week. They won’t be bringing a message of universal peace love and happiness and all that malarkey. Apart from a few wild stories like mine that most likely won’t be believed (though they’re completely legit my friend) that’s about all the “evidence” there will ever be.

Those old black and white flicks were nudging towards the right sorta idea. Technically what those tentacled sumbitches are up to doesn’t hurt humans, its more a quality of life thing, see? There’s only so much imagozen sloshing around the galaxy - it’s a finite resource. And the bug eyed monsters don’t really feel like sharing. Scratching your head wondering what’s imagozen? I’ll tells ya: it’s that spark of inspiration and creativity that some people call a muse, or the bolt outta the blue. It’s the bit that made Edison so sweaty, Curie so curious, what gave Picasso his gumption and Henry Ford his moxie. James Joyce had the stuff dripping outa his ears if he turned his head too sharply. Elvis probably died of an overdose of it, the poor bloke.

A solid definition imagozen is a wee bit tricky... it’s hard to pin down kinda like how light is a wave and a particle - or how a cat is dead yet alive. Element? Nah. Force? Not really. Energy? Eh... kind of. Something spiritual or spooky... nooooo, not quite. But you get the idea of what I’m groping for, right? If not just nod your damn head so I can continue for the sake of the rest of the peanut gallery, attention spans these days are getting shorter.

Where was I? That’s right, cutting off the imagozen supply to Earth. It’s not fatal, but you can see its effects everywhere. Don’t believe me? You must not have cable TV my fine friend. I hear they now have a show called The Skunk Whisperer. Look at what the latest “innovation” was with the iPhone - releasing it in white. What a breakthrough! Didja ever hear tell of that infinite number of monkeys banging away on typewriters, trying to do Shakespeare? Seems they’ve run out of steam, and won’t ever get back up to speed. I tell ya, them aliens have won. I should know, as now the job of me and my colleagues is done, we can finally get off this ball of rock you lunk-heads call home. Not that it wasn’t fun at time, but I miss the good life that imagozen provides. Enjoy your reality T.V. and cookie-cutter boy bands.

Songbird

After rummaging through the always awesome website of Buddhafulkat I found a simple, new writing challenge that is perfect for banging out quickly... weekly 100 word challenges at Julia’s Place. This week is a Christmas themed one: You are to write as the Santa arrowed...

 Picture obviously pinched from their website

Here’s my entry, 100 words on the dot. I’m not sure if we’re meant to write exactly 100, or 100 and under. I’ll work it out eventually though. 

Songbird

Everyone else in the choir is laughing and smiling, but they’re just backing vocalists compared to me. It was my solo that carried it, and I nailed it. Really knocked it out of the park. I’m a goddamned virtuoso. Someday, there’ll be a gold star above my name. Melanie the Diva they’ll call me.

Settle down! OK that’s enough of that sort of thinking for now Mel. This is a house of God, and pride is a sin. Let’s practice some humility here. Eyes downcast humbly, a slight smile and accept the lions’ share of the applause as my own.

Tokenistic New Year News

Paradoxically, I do less writing when I'm on holidays. Since the amount of leisure time is greater, I spend more of it with Tho - not a bad thing in my mind at all. A fair chunk of my writing I do in down time at work, when the kids are at PE or after they've gone home. Obviously, that gave me little chance of completing Nano, but that's OK, I knew it was going to be the case. I still plan on finishing the story, by doing about 2K a week or so on it, a modest, manageable goal. I'm also looking around for more flash fiction things to try my hand at too, so if you know any sing out. And I also intend on doing some more short pieces off my own bat, thinking of my own ideas rather than just flailing around waiting on others to give me topics. Finally, I've started using various software for making lists and writing down ideas. I used to think they were a load of bollocks, but after trying a few, I've found them to be pretty useful.

In which I exploit my students for my own nefarious ends.

Using bribes and blandishments, I bludgeoned the children under my care into creating a second entry. After all, alliteration is educational, and enjoyable. Broaching the topic with a bout of brainstorming, the tiny tykes took to it with great gusto - displaying the Double Dead dust-cover roused roars of approval (graphically you’re good in the 8 - 9 group). The little fella’s had fun, and found that they could ignore irritation enough so that illustrators (such as girls and others of that icky ilk) were worth working with without worry. Wendig Education: Easing the educators load with lively lessons.


There’s only so much Christmas stuff you can do at this time of year, and we’ve pretty much hit the limit, so why not alliteration I thought.

My unruly horde of demons third graders have a wide range of ability: one kid when doing his information report about Cheetahs wrote something along the lines of “A cheetah is graceful and flexible, like a girl doing yoga” (he’s going to be a lady-killer when he’s older, he already has an impish smile) right down to kids who will maybe sharpen their pencil three times and write their name down before it’s time to stop and listen to a story instead. Since we’re in Vietnam, we also have a range of English ability, but not so bad as other years... no clutching their crotch and grunting (well, sometimes they do but that’s just when they’re being surly, they have the ability to string a sentence together asking permission to go to the toilet). They liked the assignment well enough, especially when they were allowed to form their own groups, but loved the chance of winning great glory for me, in the form of the book. That caused a reshuffling of the groups so they weren’t just formed on friendships, but more on ability (with plenty of helping of the ones that were struggling by the sharper ones, and the best kid at drawing in both class roving round and giving pointers)... so pretty much a win-win situation, education-wise.

The boy thinks that bats have bones. Good, alliteration and paying attention in our unit on vertebrates

Bees like banana and butter. I’m glad I got a completed work sample from this kid, it is a bit of a rarity.

Black bears are bad. The crown says I am the queen of angry

My brother has a big blue balloon

Cao Hung is hunting the hippo

A triumvirate of Cao Hung dancing hip-hop in his house. I guess he is celebrating his successful slaughter of the hippo

Two people digging for dead dinosaur bones

My Dad and Mr. David (that's me!) like to kill dragons

I dreamed about dragons in my dark bedroom

The duck is drinking durian juice. Yuck. I can eat pretty much any animal presented to me, but durian I find pretty rugged.

Eleven elephants learn English

Linh loves to lick little lollipops... so much she did it quite a few times.

The lion ate a lollipop and lizard.

Mr. Mark is eating mangoes on his trip to the mountain

Mum made a moon cake. Due to drawing style, mum is a bit of a MILF too.

Oops! There is an octopus in the Arctic Ocean

The owl is staying on the ox... this kid arrived late both days we were doing alliteration, so she only had a hazy grasp of the concept, but she got there in the end.

People are watching the penguin finish playing the piano

Pink Panther is playing with the purple pig

Thanh Tung is playing with his teddy bear

The Viking is playing the violin. I said I wanted at least three occurrences of the letter, but this kid came up with his entry off his own bat, in a group of one, and once again, I'm glad to get something from them.

Three zombie/zebra/Zhao Hung combinations, with the zombies heavily influenced by Plants V’s Zombies which is huge with my kids (as is Walking Dead, but that is way too scary for me).

And because there’s always someone who doesn’t listen to the instructions, a vampire entry. But he did at least listen to the bit about the book: Double Dead is coming to our world. I showed them the cover like I said, and they loved it, and wanted to know what it was about “I don’t know much about it yet, but I might soon if you win it for me. All I know is there is a vampire who has to fight zombies for who gets to eat the people.”

Scenes from a Stellar Skirmish

Well, the less said about Nano the better. November is a rough month for free time, what with it being prime wedding season here. That doesn’t mean my book is dead and buried, it just means it’ll take longer.

Alliteration, that’s the challenge for this week. I wasn’t sure if it was meant to be just the title, or the whole shebang, so I figured it was safer to go with lots of alliteration. I’ve always been a fan of epic poems, which often tend to have quite a bit of alliteration in them. They’re writing in hard mode, as they’re often translations, so it can be tricky to stay true to the idea being expressed and find the right word to represent it.

I decided to go with space for my short story - a titchy wee one, as there’s quite a bit of alliteration going on. I’m neither Virgil nor a skald, and they tended to limit themselves to three repetitive sounds on a line, mixing it up with normal words too.

And since it’s space a space theme, I might as well throw in a nice picture, which has a special place in my heart. In Star Control 2, this is the main image we’re presented of the race of aliens called the Spathi. One of their pilots is called Snelopy, a name I liked so much I added an extra l to and took it as my own.

<Picture lifted from http://www.star-control.com/hosted/happycamper/gifs/spathi.gif they pinched it from Star Control II. He is supposed to animate, but he's not doing so at the moment, and I'm running out of time to fiddle with it>

Scenes from a Stellar Skirmish

As always, the attackers approached from Andromeda. Sweeping silently through space, shields set, the squadron started to intercept. Descending on the dreadnoughts, determined to dispatch them... Flying in formation, fighters at the fore, with the frigates following - the foe failed to flee. Commands were cried out, combat codes cleared: crews at the ready.

We waited, weighing up the odds for our exact time to engage the enemy. My units mission: maneuver in amongst their ships, seeking to snare one before it was blasted to bits. Force fields fell to phaser cannons and concussion charges.

Time! Twenty troops touched down, hacking into the hull, hewing hunks off. Gaining egress, guns up, eyes guarded, we blasted bulkheads until they buckled. Klaxons clanged, interspersed with the chittering and clicking that made up their speech.

Finally, we faced our foes in the foredeck, vulcan cannons and the vacuum giving them vacant eyes, tentacles twitching as they twisted round the levers and lights that comprised their control panel. Proud of our prize, we hauled it into our hold and headed home, hyperdrive humming.