I know that I have not posted any fiction on this blog for quite some time, however, I still tell stories elsewhere.
As some of you might know, this week (12th – 16th March) there is the Twitter Fiction Festival (Go to @TWfictionfest for more info about the event). A number of different Twitter users and authors tweet their own creative stories and interact with others. What’s so great about it? Well, they are individual stories of 140 characters or less, or a series of them. Although, what’s best about this medium is that a user can experiment with different and new ways to tell their story.
As an avid Twitter user, I’m obviously participating in this wonderful journey of storytelling. Primarily, for the reason that I live for fiction and also because I use the micro-blogging platform to tell fictitious stories throughout the year.
What about you? Are you participating? I would like to find other contemporary storytellers. Leave your Twitter handles in the comments section.
The following is my recent series of tweets telling a fantastical tale.
A beautiful sky; clear and starry. Trees all around praising the stars as a breeze moves gently through their hands. A man screams at the sky. He wants to silence the stars. They scream in his deaf ears; the only screams he can hear. Leave me alone, he shouts. I need my peace, he says crouching onto the damp grass as tears get lost in his beard. The stars keep shining. The screams all fade as the man shuts his eyes.
There she goes. She’s running along the wrong path. Her mother warned her but she wouldn’t listen. I’m free, I’m free, she would cry. Little did she know that her freedom could only last a short while. A puppet cannot go far without its strings. She did not make it out the door.
Go ahead and get yourself out of this one, thought the man laying in the street staring at the starry night. His inebriate vision making the night seem magical, and then the influence begins to fade and reality begins to take its place. Get yourself out of this, it says, your life is almost over if you do not pick yourself up. But there is nothing to live for, I might as well remain here, he thought.
There is a light. It shines in from the window. The curtains drawn, and the sleeping face dreaming. Dreaming as life goes by. He dreams of another; a life that is far more interesting from the one that really exists. He chases monsters, and then they chase him. He meets people and then sleeps with women. It all seems fine until the dreadful noise is heard. Alarming him up and out of bed. There goes life; that terrible thing.
Something is coming out of the darkness. It is there and then it is not. A strange piece of music playing in the background. The sound makes sight glitch for a second, then it is fine. Strange creeping out of the darkness. It is not really there because it is all in her mind. She needs to stop this mad alcohol consumption, that is what her friends keep telling her. Though the words seem to flow much easier in front of her mirror.