…Perhaps we were only mildly entertained. Regardless, please enjoy! If you are looking for Kaylia's official Website please visit KayliaMetcalfeWriter

Fiction Friday

I was recently directed to Wordsmith… a flash fiction monthly project for writer types.

Hey, I thought, I am a writer type! What’s flash fiction?

It is, I found out, short short short fiction.

Like the kind one could read here or here.

It is sort of like a vignette, sort of like a short story… and sort of fun to write.

“For sale, baby shoes, never worn” (How many of you know that quote without looking it up?)

So here is my first attempt at flash fiction….

(Now that the characters have been created, I sort of want to write an actual short story about them)

Call it a tease, a beginning,

Here was the inspiration point:

“There’s too much green” she said and laid the canvas down.

“Not really,” he was only slightly defensive and he picked it back up and lay it gently with the others.

She shrugged and walked to the window pulling aside the gingham red curtains and regarding the street below with an apathetic eye.

“My mother made those curtains,” he said to her back because he felt like something ought to be said.

She turned toward him and shrugged again, “We don’t have to talk.”

He nodded and pulled his glasses on gesturing to the stool.

With the ease of practice she shed her clothes, half heartily folding them in a pile. It wasn’t sexual, this removal of clothing, and it wasn’t enticing. She disrobed as she would at home in front of the chair, in front of an empty wall. That’s probably how she sees me, he thought, if she thinks of me at all.

Just a blank wall.

He rolled the charcoal between his fingertips and looked at her on the stool.

“It’s a magical forest, its clean and fresh.”

She blinked at him but said nothing.

He began to rub the charcoal on the paper taking a delight, as always, in the sound it made. Her form emerged.

“It has to be green. Otherwise what would be the point?”

She closed her eyes, shutting him out, and stretched out her arms catching the pose as if pulled from thin air and holding it as if frozen.

He didn’t bother to talk again, just caught her in the shadows and kept her half hidden.


Anonymous said...

I'm intrigued. Will there be an update next week?

Anndi said...

I'm hooked.

Anonymous said...

Excellent. It's a little eerie, the relationship, or lack thereof between artist and model. There's a lustrous quality to your writing and this 'green' that you're writing about. I am sure we'll read more about these characters. Yes?

Kay said...

@Myrelish: I think so… although I will have to find a different prompt, the Wordsmith one is a “once a month” sort of thing.

@Anndi; Good :)

@Koe: I hope so.. and yes the relationship between artist and muse, artist and model, artist and even audience is one that I tend to really like to think about, write about, obsess about….

Mojo said...

You really do know how to make an entrance girl. I didn't see this story coming out of that prompt at all. I figured we were in for a month of ghosties and ghoulies and things that go bump-bump-da-bump. But I never figured on the picture just being a picture... Very cool!

And I think I know that model. Actually I think I may have been married to her once. On second thought... naah.

Dave to You said...

Cubicle quick take. Super!
A lot given here in a shorty.


db grin said...

I was relating to your characters, even though I've never painted or been painted nude. I have been blinked at plenty of times though...

Can't wait to see your next entry!

Anonymous said...

I'm working backward and may I just say "wow." I love the way you write.