Blurred Line

About a week or so ago, I heard of another flash fiction contest being put on at someone's blog. The prompt, announced yesterday, was "vision". I didn't really have any ideas, so I put it out of mind. Until today, when an idea came to me during my daydreaming in my Old English class. I'd tell you about it, but conditions of anonymity are in place until voting has closed. That way, people's massive popularity (or lack thereof) can't affect the voting. But I'll fill you all in on the inspirational process that led to my entry when the dust has settled.

And also, DDR is now "officially" an awesome way to have fun while doing physical activity (really, the best way...well, next to that other thing, but you can't do that in an elementary school gym class).

Here, for those who are interested, is the last piece of flash I wrote for a contest - this one for one of the prompts over at Clarity of Night. I call it "Blood Electric".

The hum is steady, insistent. It trickles down Eva's neck, her back, her legs. It has blotted out whatever signs of life were once present here.

She looks up at the power lines, majestic against the darkened sky. They are the landscape here, the sole structures on the flat, gray desert floor.

There are variations in the hum now. A pulse. A heartbeat. Eva stands next to one of the poles. She traces the arc of the lines, as they lazily descend, then pull themselves up to meet the next pole. She loses track, eventually, as the wires fade into the distance.

She places her hand against the smooth, warm steel of the pole. Feels the hum enter her, coming in surges. Like blood. She savors the moment.

Overhead, the clouds shift malevolently.

She feels it, inside her. Feels it exploring, searching. It stops moving suddenly, as it always does, and unfurls its tendrils, spreading across the void of her body. It is alive in her now, just like it was in the City.

It speaks to her.

And then, she knows. She knows that she will not see the City again, with its sleek metal columns and the wonderful, overwhelming pulse of electricity. The car that dropped her off here will not return. She does not belong there. She never has.

She will starve here. Her flesh will return to the land. The City has sacrificed her to the Earth.

The clouds, hungry, begin to spit acidic rain.


Profile Editor. Writer. 9-5er. Lord of the Dance. Blurredline.com Apodis Publishing Fusion Fragment cterrill(at)blurredline.com Buy Goodbye, Darwin Amazon.com Amazon.ca Chapters.ca Barnes&Noble.com Read it free in PDF Format Buy Blurred Line Amazon.com Amazon.ca Chapters.ca Barnes&Noble.com Read it free in PDF Format The Short Stuff "Learning Magic From Mint" - published May 2007 in Atomjack "Between Eternities" - published October 2005 at Speculative.ca "Smoke and Mirrors" - published June 2005 in Byzarium Submissions Log Total Subs: 25 Acceptances: 3 Rejections: 17 Withdrawals: 3 Subs Out: 2 Quality Blogs Scalzi's Whatever Dave's Blogography Bookslut The Struggling Writer SF Signal the0phrastus Paperback Writer Scribe's Writing Desk Nathan Bransford Lyons Literary LLC The World in the Satin Bag Book In The Oven The Word Perhaps We Learned Something... Words, etc. Archives March 2005 April 2005 May 2005 June 2005 July 2005 August 2005 September 2005 October 2005 November 2005 December 2005 January 2006 February 2006 March 2006 April 2006 May 2006 June 2006 July 2006 August 2006 September 2006 October 2006 November 2006 December 2006 January 2007 February 2007 March 2007 April 2007 May 2007 June 2007 July 2007 August 2007 September 2007 October 2007 November 2007 November 2008 December 2008 January 2009 February 2009 March 2009 Et Cetera Cavan @ Last.fm Cavan @ LibraryThing Feeds Atom Feed RSS Feed	Friday, February 02, 2007 - Moon Topples Contest About a week or so ago, I heard of another flash fiction contest being put on at someone's blog. The prompt, announced yesterday, was "vision". I didn't really have any ideas, so I put it out of mind. Until today, when an idea came to me during my daydreaming in my Old English class. I'd tell you about it, but conditions of anonymity are in place until voting has closed. That way, people's massive popularity (or lack thereof) can't affect the voting. But I'll fill you all in on the inspirational process that led to my entry when the dust has settled. And also, DDR is now "officially" an awesome way to have fun while doing physical activity (really, the best way...well, next to that other thing, but you can't do that in an elementary school gym class). Here, for those who are interested, is the last piece of flash I wrote for a contest - this one for one of the prompts over at Clarity of Night. I call it "Blood Electric". The hum is steady, insistent. It trickles down Eva's neck, her back, her legs. It has blotted out whatever signs of life were once present here. She looks up at the power lines, majestic against the darkened sky. They are the landscape here, the sole structures on the flat, gray desert floor. There are variations in the hum now. A pulse. A heartbeat. Eva stands next to one of the poles. She traces the arc of the lines, as they lazily descend, then pull themselves up to meet the next pole. She loses track, eventually, as the wires fade into the distance. She places her hand against the smooth, warm steel of the pole. Feels the hum enter her, coming in surges. Like blood. She savors the moment. Overhead, the clouds shift malevolently. She feels it, inside her. Feels it exploring, searching. It stops moving suddenly, as it always does, and unfurls its tendrils, spreading across the void of her body. It is alive in her now, just like it was in the City. It speaks to her. And then, she knows. She knows that she will not see the City again, with its sleek metal columns and the wonderful, overwhelming pulse of electricity. The car that dropped her off here will not return. She does not belong there. She never has. She will starve here. Her flesh will return to the land. The City has sacrificed her to the Earth. The clouds, hungry, begin to spit acidic rain. Cavan blogged at 1:53 PM \| 2 comments	Progress Zilch! 0/0 Listening A.J. Croce - "Maybe I'm Amazed" My Music Reading Bright Lights, Big City - Jay McInerney My Library Watching Black Book: B Sweet and Lowdown: C Breakfast on Pluto: B Wishlist Bridge of Sighs - Richard Russo Rachael Yamagata - Elephants...Teeth Sinking Into Heart