Short Story - Goats.

This is a short story I wrote for creative writing, I'm going to submit it for my portfolio so if you could take just a minute to give me a little bit of feedback that would be amazing. The outline was: Write a short story in 500 words in a world that involves creatures other than humans, in a world where there are psychic abilities, with the characters partaking in a rite of passage. So here you go.. it's a bit far fetched...

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this” I sighed to the choir master. “He’s the second black spot this week. We couldn’t even finish the ceremony on Thursday!”

“Perhaps we can distract the guests, and more importantly the bride?”

“They’re bound to notice it. And it’ll grow more prominent with every lie he tells.” I turned to the window and watched as the limousine pulled up outside the church. The goat-people had been honest souls for thousands of years. Most had complex psychic abilities so lying was pointless. Lies and betrayal brought the young men of the species out in a rash that was known as the black spot. It began in the fur between the horns and could be groomed in such a way that is was not as obvious, but in consistent liars it could spread like wild fire, across the face, out over the shoulders and down over the entire body. It was common knowledge that the rashes could only be eradicated by the sinner overcoming one of the significant rites of passage of life. Hence the rise in Black Spots desperate to marry. I nodded absent-mindedly at the choir master.

“It’s time.” We left the small room and parted ways. I approached the altar and stood next to Black Spot Bill.

“You better know what you’re doing” I whispered. He gave me a sly wink and produced a top hat from behind his back. He positioned it on his head, guiding his long yellowing horns through the tailored holes. It almost completely covered the black rash growing between them. He then dug his hooves into the pockets of his tuxedo and stood nonchalantly watching as the door to the church swung open.

            The hat seemed effective for the majority of the service; his bride was far too occupied with her big day to notice the blackening fur on his forehead.

            “Repeat after me,” I said to him, “I, Bill Grayson take you, Ann Peters, to be my lawfully wedded wife”. He choked on the last word and as he turned back to face me I saw the black spot growing with every lie. He’d struck lucky, found a girl without psychic abilities so he could live his sordid, cheating lifestyle without being caught out by the power of the mind. But he couldn’t hide the black spot. It wasn’t long before she’d notice; almost his entire head was an ominous dark hue now. A couple of guests were fidgeting; they’d seen.

            “To have and to hold.”

            “To have and to hold.” His voice was shaking, he could feel himself changing.

            “For better or worse.”

            “For better or worse.” She was watching his every move from beneath her veil. Her expression concealed whether or not she had noticed; she was focused, but not furious. And it was spreading to his shoulders. I was unsure if I should carry on the ceremony; I could see him willing me to hurry up and say the words that would set him free. His large front teeth bit his bottom lip between repeating my words.

            “I now pronounce you goat and wife.” I said, hesitantly. There was a static that filled the air surrounding him, and before she had lifted the veil, the black rash had vanished. 

Finished

So it appears that I might actually have finished my work for uni. A whole year of uni done. I just need to write two references, compile everything into one document and then submit. This year has gone abnormally quickly. And now months and months of summer are stretching out in front of me but I can't see it yet. I haven't got that 'I'm finished' feeling. Tomorrow I'm going to go into uni and submit it all, and maybe then the feeling will hit me. Or the day after when the actual deadline is. Tonight we're off to Amagi, I need a good night out. I haven't been feeling myself lately. I don't know why.

Heat - Denis Johnson

I just wanted to post the original poem: Heat by Denis Johnson for you to see too. It's in sonnet form, which means a poem of 14 lines, usually in iambic pentameter, which means 10 syllable lines. This sonnet is not in iambic pentameter and neither is the poem I wrote using the end-words of Heat.


Here in the electric dusk your naked lover
tips the glass high and the ice cubes fall against her teeth.
It's beautiful Susan, her hair sticky with gin,
Our Lady of Wet Glass-Rings on the Album Cover,
streaming with hatred in the heat
as the record falls and the snake-band chords begin
to break like terrible news from the Rolling Stones,
and such a last light—full of spheres and zones.
August,
you're just an erotic hallucination,
just so much feverishly produced kazoo music,
are you serious?—this large oven impersonating night,
this exhaustion mutilated to resemble passion,
the bogus moon of tenderness and magic
you hold out to each prisoner like a cup of light?

Sonnet

At the moment I'm feeling like my life lacks productivity, so I thought I'd share some of my recent creative work with you all. Today.. poems! Wait, before you do that 'ugh poems' face, they aren't free verse yawn-worthy poems, they all have structures, and apart from the sonnet are personal to me. The sonnet was just something I wrote in the middle of the night, I think I'll post that one first. It was constructed using the end-words of Heat by Denis Johnson, which is a really beautiful poem. My sonnet is about how love grows old.

Lying awake next to an out-dated lover

The relentless sound of grinding teeth

And overpowering stench of gin

Spilt from the glass, soaked into the bed cover

Unable to sleep in the crippling heat,

The uneasy thoughts begin.

In twenty years you’ve gained three stones

I’m forbidden from nearing your erogenous zones

The sticky humidity delivers hallucinations

Us dancing, echoing ballrooms and 80’s music.

I dream of dark December nights

Evenings gone by were full of passion,

The forgotten chemistry a form of magic

Lost now, decades on, in August moonlight.

Left Arrow Three

Happy Birthday. You are finally 18. I remember back in the day, right in the beginning, your birthday was talked about pretty often. Possibly even the first thing I said to you every time we'd speak. 10 DAYS!! 9 DAYS WOO! and so on. As you can see nothing's really changed. I texted you just now to say Happy Birthday, earlier in the day to remind you that it was tomorrow and yesterday as well? Always more excited than you. But I was counting down, and probably annoying the hell out of you as we didn't really know each other then. But looking back, I just remember your birthday being on the 18th, the same day as your maths GCSE and my retake. And then came your birthday, the day you turn the same age as me for a month and a day. Then last year, of course I remember staying up. I miss that you know. And this year, well you will see when you open it. I really really really hope you like it. And I hope you have an amazing day. We were 15 and 16, that sounds so young now. Both actually adults now, agh that scares me! But it feels like I've known you so much longer. Anyway. Everyone join me in wishing my favourite person a very happy birthday. <3

Vanishing Act

So I've handed in my slightly rushed essay (deadline was this morning and I only started looking at it on Saturday evening) and my next deadline isn't for two weeks. So I'm giving myself a couple of days off. I thought I might use them to get a bit of writing done. I find it strange how I enjoy writing my own things but detest essay writing. And some kind of writer's block has developed over the years; I miss the days when I literally couldn't write fast enough to record all of the ideas in my head. The ink didn't flow fast enough to capture everything I wanted to say in that moment. And that used to annoy me; these days I'd love that to happen. It comes, just trickling from the tap instead of full force. But I thought of a new story idea, and maybe it will entrance me so much that I'll revert to my original way of writing. I've done my fair share of thinking about disappearing over the years, and I was flicking through the channels and stumbled upon a programme called 'Missing'. It's basically about people who just vanish. Drop off the planet. Fade into nothing. Leave no trace. And there was an old woman who had disappeared. One of her family suggested a way she might have vanished and it just struck me as an interesting idea for a story. I, personally, had never even thought about disappearing in that way. Somewhere in my head it triggered the 'that's a good idea' switch, so I've started a story about it. But I won't give anything away since it will probably end up on here if I ever finish it. And just for the record, I'm not thinking about disappearing anytime soon so it's not a reflection on my own life, I just liked the idea. Four little words, they could sprout into pages and pages.

Ignorance

My blog from last night got deleted, there was some kind of error with blogspot. I hope it comes back, I hate it when things I write get deleted, which is why I'll probably never end up pursuing a career as a writer; it's all about deleting. It's more about deleting than it is writing, if there's one thing I've learnt from uni this year. I had a good day today, I will blog properly about it later or another day. But it was a good day. A better day than yesterday. I want my blog post back, but I know at least ten of you read it, so at least I got things off my chest a little. What I want to say now is too clear, so I'll be misting it up a little. Code is easier. I still haven't replied. I still haven't worked out what I want. It's cruel to leave them waiting but I don't know any better. But something clicked about five minutes ago and I was going to tweet it but here is easier. And there is no word limit. I think I know why I don't know. It's because we're in the same position, except her's was real and mine never really was. I just wanted it to be, and it could have been. But I stopped it. So to use the same excuse would be wrong but actually, it is still true. There was a post on here a while back, I can't remember when, which outlined the plan. It's a lot of months later now. I still went through with the main part, but the repercussions, they never really worked. There was something, an untold something, a message undelivered. So I'll never know. But I hope this makes you smile. I think, actually, that's what I was put here for, to try to do just that. And I think that's why I don't know, because I never knew. So I'm not replying. I'll say maybe tomorrow again. And again probably, until it turns into forever. It was just a blip.Or was it? This would be so much easier if I knew, and if I was better with words. Everything is so jumbled up in my head, I wonder how the words come out in a legible order at all.