Train Station
A woman stood on the edge of the train tracks, her scarf wrapped tight around her too slender neck with the strength of a hungry boa constrictor. As she stared…
Celebrating my 1000th Ficly and Murakami!
I am hesitant to celebrate my accomplishments. I don't really like drawing attention to myself. I like my writing to stand on its own. However, this challenge http://ficly.com/challenges/1155 gave me food for thought. Celebrating my 1000th Ficly, I invite you to a game of Haruki Murakami Bingo. He is one of of my favorite authors (highly recommended). To play use any combination of the following: Mysterious woman, ear fetish, dried up well, something vanishing, the feeling of being followed, unexpected phone call, cats, old jazz records (specific), Urban ennui, supernatural powers, running, secret passage way, train station, historical flashback, precocious teenager, cooking, speaking to cats, parallel worlds, weird sex, Tokyo at night, unusual name, faceless villain, vanishing cats. More is not necessarily better. Just write something you are proud of. I prefer stories but poems are welcome too. Multiple entries and sequels and prequels are okay by me. Good luck and have fun!
Challengers
7 entriesPrecocious Cook and His Audience
“And so you see,” The teen aged boy said as he stirred the pot of caramelized onions, carrots, beans, potatoes, beef, and vegetable stock, “That is why…
A Running Cat
She was running. Running like she was being followed by a group of Olympic thugs. She didn’t know why she was running. It was dark, she could only make out the…
A Burgundy Tail
“The woman wearing the trench coat and fedora. It’s her.” Burgundy whispered, watching the woman from across the street. Her earpiece crackled, “Heading to the…
Drawn to the Darkness
Never had a pearl moon in a purple sky looked so dull, so devoid of magic, than above the startlingly bright city of Tokyo. Traffic lights flashed as cars…
Ear to the Alien Night
I stare at the mirror. My vision fails me, or the surface is too dirty. Leaning, twisting to no avail, I cannot make out my own face. Is it there? Am I here…