Taking a focus on using a more absurdist style of plot and experimenting with third-person omniscient narratives. Lamar wasn’t stuck. Not entirely. He wouldn’t allow himself to thinkthat he was anyways. Just ‘taking a rest’ he’d mumble to himself with stark annoyancethat the night had come, and he could no longer continue with his journey. Atleast his boat, his prized (and only) possession had come out from the badweather … Continue reading A Short Story: Nishikigoi
This story is a little more vulgar than usual as it’s based on a Charles Bukowski poem I love. Experimenting with manifesting emotion and reactions in readers by using intense narratives rather than descriptions. I don’t recall ever enjoying school. Most of my time had been a blur, with much of it having been spent either drinking in cleaner’s cupboards or boy’s bathroom stalls just … Continue reading A Short Story: A Scene from 1940
He quite clearly hadn’t lived the most comfortable of lives, which I’d observed from the lack of congeniality about his appearance; countless stains and makeshift patchwork were seething across his clothing, adding to his rattled demeanour. I’ve always told myself it’s wrong to be so judgemental of those around us, but it was near impossible to not make the assumption that whoever this being might … Continue reading A Short Story: A Deal with God
Writing hasn’t exactly come easily to me over the past few weeks. I’ve spent a lot of my focused energy on trying to revise for exams and occasionally doing a little bit of creative writing, not much of it worthy for the public realm. Yet there’s something about coming to visit my Dad which encourages me to write (which is worrying, I should be studying!) … Continue reading How do you distinguish between a good writer and a bad one?
As I watch through your window, you light an incense stick. Your hands tremble delicately as you bring the flame up to the wood and witness its fumes disperse; mainly in the direction of your face, but you don’t flinch. You also know that I’m watching you too through your single-glazed windows. I know that you can hear me breathe but you still don’t hesitate … Continue reading A Short Story: Luna
A short story dedicated to the life of Charles Bukowski. Based on the following writing prompt: Strangers at a bus stop, trying to mind their business, are persistently engaged with by a chatty, seemingly homeless, man. The ridicule that came alongside refusing to follow the values which society held was what demoralised him. He didn’t mind the fact that he was different to those who … Continue reading A Short Story: Laureate of an American Lowlife
Based on image prompt here. Everything opposing me was unapologetically urban. For as far as I could see, there wasn’t a single sign of life that wasn’t human; no trees, no blossoming flowers and no restless weeds attempting to fill the cracks in the pavement. Only monoliths of concrete soaring from each sidewalk in the same, ceaseless arrangement. I enjoyed my nights here because even … Continue reading A Short Story: Desolation