D WAS for Dystopian Fiction

Now D is for Dreadful Doughnut Drive

Oh yes, I think this will take a bit of explaining. I was visiting 2 hours from my home when I had a flat tire. Luckily I was near my brother’s house and he was able to come and change it because no matter how much I jumped on the tire iron I couldn’t get my nuts off. By the time he was able to get there and change it for me it was rush hour and I was NOT in the mood to try and get home through that. I stopped at another friend’s house and stayed for dinner before I headed home. The trip that would normally, over highways, take 2 hours took much longer. My doughnut is only rated for 40 MPH and the straight shot roads have a minimum speed of 55. So the long way it was. I can’t actually tell you how long it took because if I looked I am sure I would start crying. Needless to say I was unable to get my D post out because of my Dreadful Doughnut Drive.

Blogging From A to Z

The plan to save my A to Z is to add an extra day, probably on sunday or if one of the flash fictions are particularly short. I really want to share my dystopian fiction with you so I am not skipping it. Even though it made me uncomfortable to write and reread.

Dystopian Flash Fiction

“Emily are you excited to participate in Black Friday this year?” Asked her mother Alexandra.

“Yes mama, I like to stay up late and I want to go to the mall,” said Emily as she got out of the car.

“Now dear, don't get her all worked up. Black Friday can be intense,” said her father. “I'll go grab a cart.”

“Oh, I'm so glad they have carts at the mall now. It makes moving the stuff so much easier,” said Alexandra.

“Come on, let's get in line fast. I wanna be through the gate first,” Emily said pulling her father's arm.

“Alright, alright, we're coming,” he said as they walked through the empty parking garage toward the mall entrance.

The family lined up behind the roped off area outside the mall and settled in to wait for the doors to open and the pandemonium to begin. They talked, laughed and joked as the hours ticked away. It seemed like a wonderful bonding experience, but Emily knew they would have their work cut out for them when the doors were thrown open.

Opening time of five a.m. was almost at hand. The line was around the corner and out of Emily’s sight. People who had been lounging on the ground or leaning against walls a mere half hour before were now standing tall as they looked over each other's heads and scooched as close to the threshold of the mall as they could. They were all enthralled in a frenzy that was building and seeking the maelstrom that is Black Friday.

An employee clicked the lock and it seemed unusually loud, almost like a starting gun had been fired. Two other employees pushed open the doors while trying to scurry out of the way with frightened, but determined faces. This was it, we are first. Emily and her mother ran for the woman’s department. The news reports had been saying all week it was supposed to have the most action this year and it had always been her mother’s favorite anyway.

Emily pushed her cart around the corner and stopped by the edge of the counter. She excitedly looked back at her mother as she pulled an exquisite cashmere coat out and held it up. She looked down into the pit. The woman waiting there were already shoving each other and jockeying for position under the hanging coat. Emily shook it and they responded like ravenous dogs. The lady directly in front of Emily punched the lady to her left in the face causing blood to pour from her nose, but not stopping the bloody woman from jumping for the coat. Emily tossed the coat into the bedlam and was delighted at the squealing and screaming her trinket had brought.

Emily turned back to her mother who was smiling and handed her a pair of Gucci heels and said, “We have spared no expense here on your first Black Friday. I want you to really enjoy what this event means. Make sure you throw them way into the center so the poor girls who got here later have a chance to enter the fray and get some goodies as well.”

“Yes mama,” Emily said as she took the beautiful shoes.


Dystopian fiction is a very popular genre at the moment, but I remember reading George Orwell's 1984 in high school so it has been around a long time. Let me just say that book scared the crap out of me. Are you a fan of Dystopian fiction? What books would you recommend in this genre?

Insecure Writer’s Support Group

I am worried I bit off WAY more than I can chew. Though perhaps if I stop chewing on the computer it would work better. I LOVE writing challenges, but rarely get through to the end with a victory. I need to figure out how to set better priorities and stick to goals. I am also having a bit of a problem with that life thing getting in the way constantly, but it seems to happen often to me. I am not entirely sure if it just happens to everyone a lot and I am busy putting out proverbial fires and don’t notice or if the Fates have placed some sort of kick me sign on my back. Hey, be a friend and pull it off my back if you see it there, thanks. I also worry about the quality of my work. I read so many awesome blog posts, excerpts and flash fictions during these writing challenges that I feel woefully inadequate. What do you do to stay on task? How do you feel when you share your work?

ROW80 Rundown

I missed stating my round 2 goals on Monday the 4th so I am playing catch up here, too. My goals are mostly the same as last round. Wish me luck.

To make the check-ins on Sundays and Wednesdays - This is the first Wednesday so YAY I made it.
To visit 5 fellow ROW80 bloggers each check-in - Didn’t manage to visit anyone since Monday.
To write 667 words every day to keep up with my Camp NaNo goal - I hit this goal on Monday, but not on Tuesday. I fell short by less than 200 words on my flash.
To post every additional day in April for A to Z - I barely made it Monday and missed Tuesday, but have high hopes for the next check in period.

Orange Prompt Type Winner

Orange prompt: Sensory Prompt a prompt that makes you use one of your five senses. A smell, a taste, a sound, touch, something visual

Thanks to those who helped me by participating. I like this suggestion, there were 4 really good choices and I am happy to start making new prompts. The first Orange Sensory Prompt was created by my daughter. I really need to do a LOT more research before I try another contest because I didn’t get much participation, but that is a post that will need to wait until April is over. Do you have any tips for running contests to get me started thinking about what to do better next time?

What do you do when you have bitten off too much? Do you spit some of it out or try and choke it down even though it may cause the quality of tasks accomplished to diminish?

For some reason I couldn't find the ROW80 code to add the linky list to my post so click here to see the others who posted today.

Photos by Pixabay.

B is for Biographical Fiction

Day two and we’re still here, that is good news. Please look over in the right sidebar and vote for the best Orange Prompt Type, even if you entered a suggestion. If you aren’t sure what the Orange Prompt Type is check out the original post here.

Biographical fiction also ended up doing a ton of research and I would love to expand this story, too. The concept is biographical elements are intertwined with fictitious elements. A currently popular example is Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter. Now on to our regularly scheduled flashing.

“What are you doing now Ben?” Said a voice behind him.

Ben let out a sigh and closed his eyes to try to master is irritation. “Go away, I am busy,” he said to the voice behind him.

“You always say that,” complained the voice.

“And it’s always true,” Ben replied. “Thomas, run along and find something else to do.”

“Oh, if I could run,” Thomas lamented. “Ben, you know how it’s raining?”

“You mean did I notice the loud crashing thundering outside the house, yes Thomas I observed it was raining.”

“Good. I have been thinking about electricity.”

“You are always thinking about electrical fluid these days Thomas,” Ben replied and continued tinkering with the metal parts on his work desk without turning around.

“That is true, but so are you. It’s why we make a good pair,” Thomas said happily.

“We make a team because you will not leave me in peace. Why do you pester me so?”

“You know why I come here to talk to you. I come because you are the only person who can hear me,” Thomas said in frustration. “Don’t think I haven’t tried, but you are the only scientist who can hear me. How can I continue my work without a scientist. Yes, Mr. Franklin you are a medium.”

Ben whipped around in his chair and stared at Thomas. He was average height, rather thin, had long curly brown hair, brown eyes and the terribly annoying habit of refusing to appear solid. “A medium what? Of height and weight, perhaps. How many times have I told you not to say that?”

“Medium weight? Honestly man. Why would you want me not to say that? If you’re not a medium then what am I?” Thomas asked sure he had just achieved the upper hand.

“You are evidence that I have been awake far too many hours this day.”

“That is disappointing, but I need to talk to you about the lightning.” He said quickly waving the thought of sleep away like a gnat.

Ben sighed resigned to let Thomas tell him about the lightning, knowing he would not allow rest until his idea had been shared, expounded upon or refuted and then discussed. The night was late, but sleep would not come easily in either case and this seemed the path of least resistance. “Tell me about the lightning Thomas.”

“I think it may be electricity.” Thomas looked expectantly at Ben.

“I see, can you support that hypothesis?”

A spark ignited in Thomas’s eyes again, “I think I can. I noticed that lightning creates light, like electricity. It also makes quite a loud crash when it explodes, like the parlor tricks and entertaining sparks people are doing with rubber glass globes.”

Ben raised a hand, “How are you seeing parlor tricks?”

“I can go where I please. I am not following you around all day.” Thomas said and waved this thought away again.

Ben narrowed his eyes on Thomas’s hand and it stopped waving. “That’s comforting, continue.”

“Last week when lightning hit the Smith’s weather vane and set the place ablaze. I thought it must make tremendous heat,”

“Just like electrical fluid,” Ben interrupted leaning forward resting his elbow on his knee and chin in his hand.

“You know it has been many decades since I christened the word electricity. Why do you refuse to use it?” Thomas scrunched up his face pouting slightly.

“Because you aren’t Shakespeare Thomas. Everyone can’t just go around making up new words. It will get confusing.”

“It will become popular. Mark my words,” Thomas said flashing Ben a smile.

Ben looked up at the ceiling as if trying to chase down a memory that was eluding him. “The smell, you know the smell when the lightning strikes? It’s the same as electrical fluid, only much stronger.”

“Yes, smells. I miss smelling.”

“Concentrate Thomas. Lightning seems to hit metal objects more often and electrical fluid is attracted to metal. I must test this, but how?” Ben got up from his chair and crossed to the door looking up at the storm frowning slightly. “I need a tall hill or building.” He stepped out and looked around expecting one to spring into existence.

“Why? What are you thinking? I can tell you are planning something because you are frowning and looking about like a trapped rat searching for an escape route.”

“I will thank you very much not to liken me to vermin. There isn’t a site tall enough in the whole of Pennsylvania. I must think on this. Another answer is probably in plain sight.” Ben sighed, walked back in the house and pulled out his silk handkerchief to wipe the rain off his face. “You have given me much to think on this night Thomas Browne. I must retire, but tomorrow is another day.”

“What would you do without me?”

“Be well rested,” Ben grumbled as he headed toward his bed.

History is one of my favorite things and I know I get a bit carried away when it comes to the Revolutionary time period. One day I will make it to Williamsburg. While I was researching I came across this amazing documentation of a late 1700s frictional static electric machine. There are also photos of a 1757 Philosophical Transactions article on "The effects of electricity in Paralytick cases" by Benjamin Franklin all the way at the bottom. Yes, I know my geek flag is officially flying, but it happens to the best of us.

Do you have a geek flag? Do you ever incorporate your geek loves in your writing? Let me know in the comments and please feel free to leave your blog address as well so I can follow you back and see what you're up to.

Photos by Pixabay.

A is for Alternative History

Apparently A is also for April Fool's Day. Happy April Fool's, the one day of year people critically evaluates every piece of news posted to social media sites. I meant to have everything done and ready to go very, very early this morning, but that did not happen. However, I have the poll for the suggestions in the contest that ended yesterday, deciding the Orange Prompt Type, up on the right side bar. Be sure to vote, I need your opinion! Sadly there were only 4 entries, but happily they're all really interesting options. Good luck to each of the contestants.

Now to flash you all.


Makoy stood watching the newsreader in the shop window flashing to scenes of the hurricane that was currently ravaging West Florida. He had been keeping a close watch on the situation because hurricanes don't usually start this early in the year and he was heading to East Florida in a few days after spring break ended. Makoy looked up and noticed a bloke walking toward him as he hurried down Benedict Arnold Park Way. Usually he would not have missed a person staring at him this intently, but he was distracted the newsreader.

Now that Makoy looked more closely at the bloke he had a look on his face just screamed his little brain was working hard to figure out who he was looking at. Come to think of it he looked familiar in the face, but the West Point students all looked the same in their uniform and standard hair cut. The bloke’s eyes bugged out and he turned to cross the street hastily. Makoy recognized him as Arthur, a primary school bully whose arse he had finally kicked in early high school.

“Oi! Arthur stop,” Makoy yelled as Arthur moved closer to the edge of the footpath.

Arthur sped up and terror swept over his face. He stepped into the busy road and a horn blared. He whipped his head around as a bus slammed into him.

My story is based on the alternate history of the rebellious Colonists not winning the war they started. In Our Time Line on September 23, 1780 plans were discovered indicating Benedict Arnold intends to turn traitor and surrender West Point. He got word of the Patriots coming to arrest him and fled. He joined the British and his name became synonymous with traitor. The Point of Divergence is the plans were never discovered and Benedict Arnold did surrender West Point and join the British helping lead them to victory.

This was just supposed to be a little flash fiction, but it ate up a lot of time with research and I can see a lot more to the idea. Placing this on the back burner and planning to come back.

Have you ever read an alternative history fiction? Did you like it? Let me know in the comments and don't forget to vote for the Orange Prompt Type in the right side bar.