Milkshakes

Tho and I were in the kitchen, picking over the last of the roasted chicken and trying to decide how many of the bananas that were ripening too fast we should eat. Madeline was in the bedroom, gurgling to herself on her playmat to the accompaniment of squeaks and bangs as she batted the brightly coloured toys about. I convinced Tho that a milkshake was the way to go as we’d also be able to polish off the last of the milk. She was always worrying about lack of calcium, but we ate plenty of cheese, surely that was good enough? Breastfeeding a baby means you have to eat properly, but the issue is complicated by random bullshit “advice” that good-natured Vietnamese friends and family provide. For example, nothing boosts the mothers milk production like eating dogs legs. Old wive’s tales seem hideously suspect when they’re part of someone else’s culture.

This time it would be a real milkshake, just like my brother and I made when we were little tackers... earlier in the week I’d gone shopping for cooking supplies. Bananas, chocolate, ice-cream, honey and the secret ingredient - food colouring. I shielded the blender from Tho’s sight with my body, but I needn’t have bothered. She had taken the opportunity to take yet more pictures of Madeline. At this rate, we’ll be buying another terrabyte harddrive, as we’re fast running out of space.

The purple concoction slopped into the mugs (I only splashed a little on the bench, next to some spilled milk, but that’s nothing to cry about) and I sat at the table proud of the hue I had achieved. Tho wasn’t as nonplussed as I’d expected - a byproduct of the photoshoot I guess. We started discussing where to go for the next holidays. Then we heard it. Something that every new parent dreads... often with no good reason. An unnatural silence. She’s probably just fallen asleep we said, yet into the bedroom we ran, eyes frantic.

Madeline wasn’t asleep, but had industriously squirmed across the floor, and was busily chewing on the ear of Rainbow Bear. Time for another photoshoot my wife declared, as we laughed along with our little darling.

This piece is in response to Tobias Mastgrave’s story challenge of the week of unnatural silence. Hardly fiction, though Madeline isn’t able to crawl any distance yet (and I haven’t made a proper milkshake, but I will the next time we have one). Someone had also suggested writing a story with our daughter in it. A good idea, as normally my writing isn’t so grounded in reality. For the record, I didn't make up the bit about dog legs, my sister-in-law was knocking off a couple a day when her baby was born. Plus I wanted something that wasn’t too dark and foreboding as the picture that goes along with the prompt isn't too cheerful. I know our life isn’t all that enthralling to outsiders, but to us, it’s pretty damn good.

High Magister

Yet another site I’ve been reading for a while now but hadn’t got around to entering their flash fiction challenges is the Parking Lot Confessional. I’m not sure if entries in their 500 hundred club have to be dead on in number, but I guess I will work it out as I intend to participate more often. It makes a nice change for me, going over the word count for once, most of my pieces tend to be under whatever target is set us. One of the choices for this week was to write about something loved that was forgotten, so I took the easy route and wrote about love. 

I finished this a few days ago, but yet again, they’re mucking around with filtering software at work, and blogspot was on the hit list, so I think I've just managed to scrape in before the deadline. It also makes reading other people’s entries in various flash fiction challenges difficult.

Picture from here

Ervity was High Magister and throughout the kingdom, he was the final say in all matters magical. Steeped in lore, his form remained ageless, his violet eyes burned with an inner fire. Those eyes had captivated many a maiden, but his studies had always kept him aloof. That changed when the russet locks of one of the serving staff had a similar effect on Ervity. Shorn of his usual confidence the wizard was slow to court Penny, not just because her station was so much lower than his. Eventually - and without the influence of Ervity’s arts - the relationship blossomed into into the worst kept romance the palace had ever known. Instead of being sequestered amongst his books and alchemical equipment, the High Magister was to be found in the laundry, scullery, or wherever his beloved was working.

Granting an unaksed-for boon to his wizard, the king kindly transferred Penny to the staff of the High Magister so that Ervity would be more focused. Rumour ran rife through the palace, but the two did not mind... the mage was well-liked and the teasing was largely good natured. But as the years progressed, and her auburn hair faded to grey, his fondness for her lessened and he became distant - Penny found herself relegated to someone Below Stairs again. If she had been a woman of means, she could  have left in a flounce of skirts and a moue of disgust. But Penny was practical - she was under no illusions she would find better employment outside the castle especially at her age, so she buried her sadness under a professional demeanour and kept to cooking, scrubbing and dusting.

It came to her one day that maybe magic could solve their situation. She was loathe to broach the subject with Ervity, especially since he prided himself on not using sorcery to win her heart all those years ago.Taking the little money she had saved over the years, she spoke with one of the magicians who traded in love potions and fortune telling down by the dockyards. For a small fee (conveniently the exact amount she had brought with her) he instructed her in the design of a sigil that was certain to work.

After washing the needle in her tears, Penny carefully sewed the symbol into the hem of Ervity’s robes of state, using a single iron grey hair as her thread. Penny did not expect the rune of forgetfulness to have an instantaneous effect, but as the weeks progressed, Ervity seemed no closer to her. Perhaps her stitching hadn’t been accurate? Or his wards and defences too strong? Fretting and unsure of herself, Penny waited with a heavy heart.

On the evening of the full moon, just mere days before Penny was going to admit what she had attempted, the magic took effect. The colour of Penny’s hair was not all that departed the memory of the mage. The next morning found him helpless as a babe, unsuitable to fulfil the duties of his rank, or even comport himself in polite company. No-one was able to reverse the spell, and the position of High Magister was passed to another. Penny saw out her days, caring for the man she once loved, but not in the manner she had hoped for.

Five Sentence Fiction: Memories

Another place I’ve been watching for a while, but hadn’t participated yet is Five Sentence Fiction, organised by Lillie McFerrin. So once again, now is a great time to start! This is a great idea - short pieces that will be good practice for me to pare them down instead of comma-splicing into paragraphs. The prompt for this week was the word memories, but it doesn't necessarily have to appear in the piece.

Picture found here

Lou slowly counted out pound coins into piles for each drink - his rheumatism was acting up again. Half way through the second pint his eyes would twinkle, and he would charm the young backpackers with his accent and tales of his beloved Maude; she’d been gone now these past twenty years (God rest her soul) and there wasn’t a day she didn’t grow lovelier in his mind. Often this lead to further drinks being paid for in an attempt to entice more stories but it was pointless. Given a third, his brogue would thicken, tears would fall, and Lou would yearn for more than mere memories... inconsolable.

Time to type again!

I haven't written much lately, what with holidays then getting accustomed to my new class. Time to remedy that! Chuck Wendig's challenge for this week was something anything SF or Fantasy. And for a while now I've been reading Tobias Mastgrave's page, where he often gives a seed sentence or an image for inspiration. I'd never got around to doing any of his, so figured it was about time I give it a shot, especially when it aligned so nicely.

The scene challenge was the starting sentence (and maybe the picture too, I'm not sure, I'm new). I think scene challenges are meant to be short, so this one is just a wee little tacker.

Picture comes from his page, of course

Agnal mouthed words of power, though no sound emerged from his throat, and raised his hands. The long years of his training in the Elder Tongue had corroded his vocal cords, but it was a small price to pay for such power. A bluish glow emanated from his fingertips, lighting the recesses of his cowl and causing his familiar to hiss with irritation. Slowly the light coalesced into the tentacled and be-fanged form of the Ithyak that was bound in service to the mage. With a keening roar the creature dashed from the study.

Agnal smiled, fingering the key he had worn around his neck in remembrance for many a long year. Soon justice - true justice - would prevail.

1006 number 2

I liked the idea of these 1006 challenges so much I thought I'd do another quick one. I haven't done a baby picture here yet, so we're due one I am sure. It was snapped by my wife, Vietnamese seem to have an inherent sense of how to frame photos - I guess it is because they take soooo many.

Anne Geddes, eat your heart out.

1006

I've had Delft's blog in my RSS feed for a while now, originally for their writing, but I've been enjoying the recent photos paired with poems. They suggested a 1006 word challenge, which is an absolute rip-snorter of an idea, smashing together two fantastic sayings - that a picture is worth a thousand words, and I'm guessing the six words you choose to accompany it is a tip of the hat to the baby shoe story of Hemmingway.

Today was the first day back at work, so here's my entry. A quick (and very rough) bit of photoshopping.  Neither words nor pictures are mine because of all the extra paperwork a new class brings. Not that I can complain with a class of eight (that I eased into since only 5 rocked up).

"My God—it's full of stars!"

Next time I promise to be original.

Dammit, Butthead!

So we got a Nexus, and silly me left the Sync everything ticked. And so it pulled down a whole host of junk I didn't need, like every email address I've ever written to as a contact, and a bunch of pictures too, which were ones I'd used here.

couldn't work out how to remove them, but finally found the info on some forums somewhere. Delete it from Picasa it said. I didn't think I had been using Picasa, but I guess since Google owns it they rolled everything in together. So I went in and deleted everything, using some Picasa app on the Nexus, thinking it'd only wipe it from there. Nope, broke everything here. A fair few of them I didn't save, like the ones for the Steampunk Superheroes piece, and I really reckon it made that one. So they're gone for good.

No big deal as I don't get many visitors, but the place will look a mess for a while. Maybe I should swap to Wordpress. But both Blogger and Wordpress are blocked at work, and I've been too lazy on the new computer to load TOR, but I'll have to get around to it sooner or later, especially as this year I will have a lot more free time for writing.