Creativity is a significant part of my life, and I hope to encourage others to pursue creativity in their own way (there are lots of posts here on the site to read about the creative life).
My creative life is focused on writing: novels, novella, short stories, bad poetry, and twitfic. Currently I have had to put my WIPs: a collaborative epistolary novel (edits almost complete) and a novella (first 4K is down), on hold due to work commitments.
But I can spare brief moments to compose short pieces of twitter fiction to keep my creative well filled and enjoy playing with language.
These seven pieces of twit fic were inspired by a radio interview where the interviewee, an actor, talked about the presence of cameras and flashes. I wanted to explore different ways of seeing light, from the whimsical and playful to existential and reflective but based on my focus on the ennui and minutiae of life as the basis for my stories. See if you can spot the Star Wars reference (it’s pretty obvious). The last piece is a nod to my collaborative epistolary novel, Post Marked: Piper’s Reach.
There is no narrative thread here, unlike other twitfic series Polaroid Memories and A Thought’s Reliquary (I like the number 7 as a form, like Jacques speech from “As You Like It”). They are lights strung in a sequence like lights on a Christmas tree.
I hope you enjoy it.
Light My Way
“Let there be light,” he said flicking the switch.
“Daaaad,” was the groaned reply.
The Christmas tree exploded in colour, their groans silenced.
As the camera flashed she closed her eyes.
“Stop ruining the photo,” yelled Mum.
She wondered how many pieces of her soul remained.
The dust motes floated in the tractor-beam like shaft of light on the desk. She splayed her fingers and wished, “Teleport me off this rock.”
Beside the pillar of empty milk crates, he studied the shadow’s patterns; his own stained glass windows. He went inside the milk bar to worship.
His first digital watch enthralled him but it was the ability to see the numbers in the dark kept him awake at night. It deterred the monsters.
Each boy shone his torch through the smoke of the bonfire.
“Light sabres!” one yelled.
The melee started, dying with the fading smoke.
He held the mirror fragment and reflected the beam from the lighthouse across the bay onto the notepad on his knees.
“I will light your way.”