This may or may not go anywhere, but this weekend on Facebook I read about a lot of my blogging buddies from days gone by who miss blogging but never take the time to write anymore (maybe because we spend all our time on Facebook?). I learned that a few blogging friends had given up their blogs and that just made me sad. I don’t expect to singlehandedly restore the glory days of blogging but it would be nice to visit that community again. This month is Nanawrimo, something I have never done and don’t expect to any time soon, or even next year for that matter. Writing 50k words in a month is an amazing feat and my hat is off to anyone who can do it. The thing is for many writers it’s just too daunting so they don’t even try. So I figured why not do a little flash fiction (or non fiction), even just a few words worth, to stimulate the writer in all of us?
These are the rules today but they’ll probably change as I take a little more time to actually think this through. Think of this like that scene in 8 Mile where Eminem just jumps in and starts rapping. Basically, don’t think too much about your story, just start telling it and see where it goes. It may not go anywhere, and that’s okay too.
I’m going to leave a prompt at the end of this post. If you want to participate just start telling your story in the comment section. Don’t worry about punctuation or grammar, just tell your story. Ideally I’d like to limit it to an hour and then close the comment section but there’s no way to tell when people get notified of the post so I’m going to leave it open all week. I would just prefer people not spend time preparing and just get to the writing. If enough people participate we can do some kind of voting and maybe even have a prize.
Feel free to share this post with other writers or people who would like to give it a shot.
Good luck and here’s your prompt:
The plane was delayed….
the plane was delayed in the fog of circumstance. the flight controller gave the go ahead for the pilot to take off then hesitated. “Abort, abort. Philly cheese steak delivery on the tarmac.” it was too late to abort the takeoff. Ahead in the dull dusky lights of the misty runway stood a man holding a paper bag. “Christ! What’s he doing there?” screamed the pilot. The co-pilot nodded in muddled thought, as the plane obliterated the man standing on the runway holding a paper bag. “Damn shame,” the pilot said, as the plane rose into the lofty whiteness of November sky. “I really was in the mood for a Philly steak sandwich today.”
That’s awesome!!!!!
That is awesome! Wow.
the plane was delayed or so I thought. I was early, far too early for the flight with too much time to think. Did I want to go or stay? I’d already made the choice to go, but something in me really wanted to go back. Then I clearly heard his words in my head again. “I don’t want us to have friends. I only want you to see my family.” I began to walk around freely in the airport. I ordered my own breakfast with shaking hands. No rules, none of his endless list of rules. I truly was leaving after far too long of a delay.
When people ask me what she was like, I tell them she was nice. Nice being a squishy word that implies she saved her virginity for marriage, drank hot chamomile tea on Friday nights, and volunteered two days a week at the local animal shelter.
None of those things was true, of course, which helps explain why the plane was delayed the night she vanished, and why her body is buried under twelve tons of hardened concrete that form the foundation of the Wells Fargo bank building downtown. It also explains why I have a rock-solid alibi for the night of August 17th, 2011, and an enviable investment portfolio stashed in a bank in the Cayman Islands a short boat ride away from my new beachside home in Florida.
I can honestly say I miss her. But I’ve adjusted.
It’s a damn good thing I know you, Mike.
The plane was delayed, its bad enough that we had been waiting an extra hour just to get on the plane but now we’re sitting on the tarmac for another 2 hours hour. Then the flight crew decided in their infinite wisdom to open the plane doors to let the heat and humidity in while at the same time start passing out salty peanuts like candy on Halloween night but no water, It was starting to get mean inside the cabin.
The plane finally takes off 3 hours later and runs into bad weather, so bad the pilot gets lost. The four hour flight has now turned into nine hours and counting. Then this song pop’s into my head and I realize i’m singing out loud the Gilligan Island Tv show theme song with great emphasis on “3 hour tour”. I wasn’t helping the already testy mood on the plane by doing that but I didn’t care.
Luckily a quick thinking flight attendant decided to pass out free alcohol to everyone and thus single-handedly prevented the mutiny that was about to occur.
We did finally land 11 hours later so now there is a plane full of somewhat drunk people headed towards Disney World, The Happiest Place On Earth begging for aspirin and water. A word of advice, do not attempt It’s A Small world with a hangover.
Brilliant! Funny! I am still laughing…….