Content Warning

Welcome to the blog. Hope you enjoy your stay.

Because my stories have bite, they can contain content that isn't suitable for work or children. Not a lot of truly graphic sex or violence, but there are some questionable or heated posts.

F-bombs are not uncommon, so watch your footing.

Sunday, September 13, 2009

September Blog Chain

September's blog chain at Absolute Write is up and running. We're doing a writing exercise this time, getting the prompts from the person in front of us. Truelyana went before me, and I've been given the prompts Vera, killing, and gun.

So here I go.


Vera stared at my latest painting, a clove cigarette smoldering between her elegant fingers. I hated the smell of her cloves, had told her I hated them, hated how they made my studio smell for days after she visited, but she never listened to me. She never listened to me about anything.

"This is dark," she said finally. She dressed to match the cutting edge of the city's social circle, which this week meant hair purposely messed up and a pastel jogging suit. I hated it, hated that I had to kowtow to this bitch. I refused to believe she and her parasites knew what art was, but I knew I needed to sell my soul to them to get anywhere.

It was a savage circle that I couldn't break from.

Finally, she turned her soulless eyes to me. "What made you think of this?" She took a long drag from her cigarette, and I wanted to grind the ember into her face.

Killing those thoughts, I shrugged. "Dunno. It just came to me."

Lies. All of it was lies. I knew exactly what had inspired this painting. After Vera's last gallery opening, when one of her faggot friends attempted to lecture me on what art was, and what the pure angst of a soul was, I'd lost control. I'd wandered the streets for two days, unable to return home, growling and muttering to myself. Some asshole had pulled a gun on me, wanting to mug me, and I'd beaten him to death with my bare hands. Only after that could I come home.

I'd kept the gun. It was on my nightstand, the barrel pointed right at my pillow. I went to sleep staring at it, and it greeted me every morning. I liked it. It reminded me that humans needed trappings to feel powerful.

Except me. I needed no trappings. I created with these hands, and I destroyed with them. Since that mugging, I'd found three more lives to take. It was empowering, and I wanted more.

I wanted Vera to take me to one of her little groups again, so I could show them all my new power.

"Well, it's excellent, Darling. Everyone must see it. Can you bring it by the gallery tomorrow?"

"Of course." I kept my voice low, but I was excited. The single bullet that had been meant for me was going to blaze its way amongst the social elite.

And I would follow, and show them an artist's true angst.


Here's the Blog Chain, as it is now. Enjoy, and check out some other interesting pieces.

My prompts for LostWanderer are:
  • Jake
  • seeking
  • garden

Fokker Aeroplanbau
Claire Crossdale
Lady Cat
Tara McClendon


  1. Your story is really good. I really enjoyed the darkness that entailed itself in the unravel of your main character in first person, and how it linked with Vera in the end. :)

  2. It’s a lovely day here and we have drunk too much red wine looking for celebrities from Claire’s balcony and seeing only other stargazers in town for the Toronto Film Festival. Your story was to say the least sobering. Art and the beauty of creation placed in the hands of one capable of such brutality but then again the same God who paints sunsets across the evening sky also created the violent tornado. That and it was a quick read, lovely pace and a good story.
    Claire and Simone

  3. What does it say about me that I really enjoyed the darkness of this story? :-)

    I have an artist friend who can totally relate to this piece. His income depends on kowtowing to the right people.

  4. Great story, and like the other comments I agree that darkness of the story is what makes it different.

    First, it matches the general look and feel of your blog. More true to your voice, I suppose.

    Like Ana, you also went away from the obvious kind of story that could have been written from those three words. Let's hope I can write up something half-decent with your words.

  5. Well, thanks much, everyone. Light and fluffy is something I can't do, so I'm glad the darkness actually worked.

    CR, I'd have to say you're a little partial to Chaos, understanding how creativity and destruction go together. And knowing how the people who decide what art is aren't themselves artists.

    Lost, I'm sure you'll do fine. Thanks much.

  6. Yikes! That was a little bit scary. But as an artist (photographer) complaints are what create the anger. :) Just love us for who we are! ;)

    Good job!


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