flash fiction friday #31

flash fiction friday #31 trigger (inclusion, but lewwe try again for the less-direct, as las' week was a 1st): egg(s), witch, cave.
rules of engagement:
you will send in your suggestions for flash fiction friday triggers (starter sentences/phrases, closers, titles, inclusions, etc.) anytime during the week up to 11.55a.m. friday, trinbago timezone; i will post the new fff trigger by noon friday trinbago timezone.*
if your trigger is not chosen and you think it is too brilliant not to be chosen, you will send it in again the next week.
you will write an anecdote, short story, or novel length prose poem using the trigger provided.
you will add comments and appropriate linkage to my trigger-post indicating your desire to participate and the completion of your piece (don't need a blogger/gmail account to comment on my blog).
you may join in at any time prior to the deadline.*
you will display your piece as a post on your own blog (or as a comment on my trigger-post or fasbook note or whatever, once we can all read it- please make sure we can all access the link to read it, not just those who are your friends on fasbook; there's a way to create public links for that, right?).
you will be done by monday noon trinbago timezone.*[in light of collective busyness and my general mentality, i not pressed about these deadlines 'cause i'd rather have fun reading late than never, so if you want to fff past deadline, go through hard, just make sure you comment on the appropriate trigger-post so we know which it belongs to, and if is a real old trigger, comment on the most recent post as well so we know something new to back-back+read...if nobody fffs i'll leave the same trigger up until at least 1person other than myself writes a piece]*
write fresh!
walk good.

bes' pee ever! + my fff#30

finally posting this days after i start composing 'cause is time for the new flash fiction friday trigger and i want my fff#30 up 1st; so take your mind back to the other day...
since i fell in love with my flat on sight, i offer salcedo (of my favourite local band the big bad gyazette)

wallspace to muralise and otherwise experiment artistically (chee, i doubt you read this, but sending vibes to remind you your space waiting...); salcedo sketch on a wall since the other day and me+family enjoying the wild women ever since. this week he call and bawl he feelin' to paint, i say come through, he reach 1time and gone clear: women gone, whole new piece, still changing after 2sessions, he know he nowhere near done...
the wall he sketched+painting is in my main corridor, opposite my bathroom, and since i live alone doors stay open. the morning after he sketch was the bes' pee ever 'cause i woke, stumbled in + sat, then as i started that glorious 1st pee, opened my eyes to art. this morning was the bes' pee ever!
photos.

video of gyazette frontman nickolai salcedo muralising my flat (more on fasbook):


and my flash fiction friday #30 (inclusion, kinna): snakecharmer, citrus, book(s).

he plucks+plays and in his chords she hears+feels and almost sees the snake rise through the smoke billowing from the unattended hookah. she wonders if he saw through her machinations to get him here or if he just that oblivious- he is a man, after all. talented, but just a man.

he plucks+plays+prays she feeling him. he wonders if she saw through his machinations to get invited here or if her refusal to trust insists his attention platonic. he inclines his chin toward the hookah, tiny sweeteye, and she tears herself out of his melody to guide his long drag while his hands continue charming the strings of his instrument and her self.
she takes a pull too, resettles the hookah and is suddenly on her feet, lifted by smoke and abandon. she finds her body finding its way through music as her eyes find his again.
he knows his power now as she wines+winds around him in the corridor. his dancing fingers pull his marionette closer until the warmth of her left bumsee cheek brushing his strumming arm momentarily distracts him. his breathing stops as she turns to him, leaning down to throw her arms around him+guitar, giggling apologies for reckless backing-back.
her hair smells like oranges when he can finally inhale and he’s instantly distracted all over again until she releases him, whispering the song she wants to hear next in his ear as the scent recedes. his pounding chest is the rhythm he uses now, playing what she wants but not the way she expected. her hips respond instinctively.
she turns to him again, face serious this time as she says, “let me be your scribe…let me write this story. i want to bring you and your work to the whole world…”

walk good.

r.i.p.

i love you, gregory isaacs.

still and always yuh night nurse, wherever you are...walk good.

flash fiction friday #30

flash fiction friday #30: testdriving a different kinna inclusion trigger, so tell me how you feel 'bout this one when you write (in general, doh forget to submit triggers and give feedback on those as much as wha' fellow fffers write); this not about including the actual words, but incorporating the item/idea into the piece (comment if you need clarification and i'll check 'cause i know i eh do it this way here before). so this week's fff#30 (inclusion) trigger: snakecharmer, citrus, book(s).
rules of engagement:
you will send in your suggestions for flash fiction friday triggers (starter sentences/phrases, closers, titles, inclusions, etc.) anytime during the week up to 11.55a.m. friday, trinbago timezone; i will post the new fff trigger by noon friday trinbago timezone.*
if your trigger is not chosen and you think it is too brilliant not to be chosen, you will send it in again the next week.
you will write an anecdote, short story, or novel length prose poem using the trigger provided.
you will add comments and appropriate linkage to my trigger-post indicating your desire to participate and the completion of your piece (don't need a blogger/gmail account to comment on my blog).
you may join in at any time prior to the deadline.*
you will display your piece as a post on your own blog (or as a comment on my trigger-post or fasbook note or whatever, once we can all read it- please make sure we can all access the link to read it, not just those who are your friends on fasbook; there's a way to create public links for that, right?).
you will be done by monday noon trinbago timezone.*[in light of collective busyness and my general mentality, i not pressed about these deadlines 'cause i'd rather have fun reading late than never, so if you want to fff past deadline, go through hard, just make sure you comment on the appropriate trigger-post so we know which it belongs to, and if is a real old trigger, comment on the most recent post as well so we know something new to back-back+read...if nobody fffs i'll leave the same trigger up until at least 1person other than myself writes a piece]*
write fresh!
walk good.

fff#29

my flash fiction friday #29 (trigger: as much/little as...) is another surprise story for me; didn't expect this piece; hope you enjoy, i gone to read allyuh fffs; new trigger tomorrow...walk good.

as much as he loved her was as little as she cared. there was a certain twisted pleasure in turning on her.
it came after the constant phonecalling in denial of rejection, after misery of acceptance, after turning on self.
it came after a week of torturing himself into despising her by smoking a cigarette every time he thought of her, after he spent the whole week’s pay on a habit he had never cultivated and couldn’t stomach the first three times she danced through his memory. there was a nasty joy in wounding his lungs, his throat, his voice, his instrument, and by the end of the week he was joining band members in cancer corner on every break without thoughts of her propelling him.
it came after sunday night practice when he sang his new song and they said it was wicked and jammed it whole night and agreed to put it on the album, and he went up to the roof to breathe now that the smoke had finally cleared from his mind. he stood on the roof looking at the sky and saw how insignificant she was, how she couldn’t control him; his name was man and his destiny in his hands, not hers.
he stretched his arms wide reaching to take in the world, and when he felt himself flying he let the soaring of his soul take him from the pain she left.
when the band finally recorded too little too late, the chalk outline of where his body hit the ground became the album cover that sold millions.

flash fiction friday #29

as requested, a starter, literally triggering fff#29: as much/little as...
rules of engagement:
you will send in your suggestions for flash fiction friday triggers (starter sentences/phrases, closers, titles, inclusions, etc.) anytime during the week up to 11.55a.m. friday, trinbago timezone; i will post the new fff trigger by noon friday trinbago timezone.*
if your trigger is not chosen and you think it is too brilliant not to be chosen, you will send it in again the next week.
you will write an anecdote, short story, or novel length prose poem using the trigger provided.
you will add comments and appropriate linkage to my trigger-post indicating your desire to participate and the completion of your piece (don't need a blogger/gmail account to comment on my blog).
you may join in at any time prior to the deadline.*
you will display your piece as a post on your own blog (or as a comment on my trigger-post or fasbook note or whatever, once we can all read it- please make sure we can all access the link to read it, not just those who are your friends on fasbook; there's a way to create public links for that, right?).
you will be done by monday noon trinbago timezone.*[in light of collective busyness and my general mentality, i not pressed about these deadlines 'cause i'd rather have fun reading late than never, so if you want to fff past deadline, go through hard, just make sure you comment on the appropriate trigger-post so we know which it belongs to, and if is a real old trigger, comment on the most recent post as well so we know something new to back-back+read...if nobody fffs i'll leave the same trigger up until at least 1person other than myself writes a piece]*
write fresh!
walk good.

fff#28

my flash fiction friday #28; (inclusion) trigger: rebellion, fox, strange, mirror, pleasure. testdriving new character again but promising that if these explorations wuk we'll meet these folks again, maybe even gathering together...so how this one do? walk good.

i bubblewrap myself before i go to the parlour. is the pleasure of the fellas on the corner to say all kinna ting as i pass and i never know if it will stay polite or cross into graphic or otherwise distasteful so i prepare my defences, starting with the shot.
one shot of granny’s crown royal just before i put on clothes does wonders for courage, warmth spreading through my flesh and organs and penetrating bones (this discovered a night she kept all of us by her while all the grownups went some fete ‘cause aunty bunny was home for the first carnival in donkey-years; me and my cousin dared to kiss by a relentless gang of teenage siblings and assorted relatives while gran snored like the garbage truck rumbling up the lane an early morning).
i swallow the shot and find music; sometimes talib, sometimes shadow or machel, a protective layer of feelgood or militant to armour myself.
a quick look in the mirror to see if i need a small fresh or already have on anything functional; is only the corner, easy-on-easy-off, but doh make the mistake of home-shortpants ‘cause them fellas on the corner watching and your bumsee will draw more attention than you expect, especially with that thin house vest; doh look like you tryin’ to look good ‘cause tha’s talk, but doh look sloppy either ‘cause tha’s a nex’ kinna talk…readying for this excursion always strange, vibesin’ from far, trying to feel the road from inside the house to put on the right mask to face it.
the guilty cat coming over the wall from the neighbour yard as i step outside just in time to catch her already leaping, back legs barely anchored on top the wall, forepaws stretching, reaching into space, but as we eyes make four she mash brakes in mid-air and scramble back, claws snatching the vines holding the wall together to pull herself to equilibrium and still smirk at me, a mere mortal trying to maco the manoeuvring of cats.
she suspect she eh outfox me ‘cause i smile back like i know her secret buried in our yard under the guava tree, and with that she freeze, staring, glaring ‘cause i make out her shady cat business.
how she watch me as i leave is the last little push the growing rebellion in my chest need to send me to the parlour head high this time: fyah bun them fellas ole talk, i taking down tigers today.

flash fiction friday #28

feeling weird and suspect this flash fiction friday trigger reflects such; doh know wha' else to say but look fff#28 (inclusion) trigger: rebellion, fox, strange, mirror, pleasure.
rules of engagement:
you will send in your suggestions for flash fiction friday triggers (starter sentences/phrases, closers, titles, inclusions, etc.) anytime during the week up to 11.55a.m. friday, trinbago timezone; i will post the new fff trigger by noon friday trinbago timezone.*
if your trigger is not chosen and you think it is too brilliant not to be chosen, you will send it in again the next week.
you will write an anecdote, short story, or novel length prose poem using the trigger provided.
you will add comments and appropriate linkage to my trigger-post indicating your desire to participate and the completion of your piece (don't need a blogger/gmail account to comment on my blog).
you may join in at any time prior to the deadline.*
you will display your piece as a post on your own blog (or as a comment on my trigger-post or fasbook note or whatever, once we can all read it- please make sure we can all access the link to read it, not just those who are your friends on fasbook; there's a way to create public links for that, right?).
you will be done by monday noon trinbago timezone.*[in light of collective busyness and my general mentality, i not pressed about these deadlines 'cause i'd rather have fun reading late than never, so if you want to fff past deadline, go through hard, just make sure you comment on the appropriate trigger-post so we know which it belongs to, and if is a real old trigger, comment on the most recent post as well so we know something new to back-back+read...if nobody fffs i'll leave the same trigger up until at least 1person other than myself writes a piece]*
write fresh!
walk good.

wha gwan

in no particular order:

discovered in gyazette rehearsal/jam (big-up my headspace house band) that pointe shoes make sweet percussion.

over the parents' diningroom table today (yesterday, for nitpickers; eh sleep yet) the gremlin+kb uncover a bes' lie i thought i was taking to my grave- we cyah even remember (by dinner, mere hours later) wha' ma say that make zed unintentionally buss the file, but we talkin' asset management for when fred dead, i say we sendin' kb 'bago with a live-in nurse 'cause neither ah we mindin' she, and something make zed tell her something like, "i know, you went to get your tubes tied and they told you you were pregnant with me..." so ma jus' watch her, blank+confused, and as zed slowly making the "hellooo?!" face @ kb in the silence i cyah stop the laughter- i told the gremlin she was a mistake so long ago i doh even remember when; apparently she was convinced enough to tell other people that story. later yesterday @ hakka (lovely dinner, yay!) with uncle vic + auntys gail+v, fred was thoroughly pleased with my initiative when zed told the story, plus tell the table 'bout walking on water like jesus and the haircombing-brain-eroding lie...we had a time. with family. hmmm...

it seems georgia tech (birthplace of the robot that can play+improvise jazz music) pushing for destruction of the human race; these jackasses teaching robots to lie! i jus' cyah understand how anybody smart enough to teach a robot to lie cyah see the inherent foolishness of teaching robots to lie- did they not see i, robot? never read anything by asimov or dick? lacking basic commonsense? they really need to be told that once robots can deceive is they indestructible? plus, as colbert point out the other day, robot skin now makes them self-aware...only a matter of time...

and speaking of armageddon, the now-officially undead dick cheney has no pulse.

differently undead, the immortal henrietta lacks, whose cells save the lives of so many, while her family lacks the means to save their own.

ending positive; sorry i couldn't embed: mos def + black thought + eminem + dj premier...chune!

walk good.