Tuesday, March 22, 2011

The Ceremony: Words inspired by Art.

Though I will be talking about writing, the process, the stories and novels, every facet that comes to view as I sit here typing, let’s simply jump in with a micro-fiction piece today, something originated on FB as I often post art and occasionally add what I call a blurb story. Sure, it’s flash fiction, but it’s also incomplete, awaiting a little bit more as space is limited there. But I like doing them, love how art inspires words, ideas, scenarios--stories. This was one of my faves, something subtle yet surreal and now completed. Though my short fiction usually veers into horrific territories, there’s also been a strong surreal element crackling through the synapses for awhile. This piece veers in that direction. It’s called, “The Ceremony.”

"What are you doing?" asked the news reporter.
"Collecting sticks for the ceremony," Walter said.
"What ceremony?"
"Well, the death of an angel requires something more than casual acknowledgement." He smiled, teeth yellow and chipped, the brim of his ragged hat shadowing his eyes.
"So, you're telling me this was an angel?" The reporter shook his head, even though he was standing in a wheat field in which a large wing jutted toward the midday sun, and an indecipherable mass was spattered all about. He thought the man daft; all these country bumpkins were daft.
"It could’ve been--"
"Could have been? There's no such thing as angels.” The reporter harrumphed. “This was simply some mutant bird. Some freak of nature. That’s all."
Walter's smile grew wide as the shadows thickened, not only shielding his eyes, but annihilating them. The reporter fidgeted as a stone of unease settled heavily in his stomach.
"You believe what you want,” Walter said, the sticks turning into snakes in his hands, “and I’ll get back to my ceremony…”

There ya go. Go out and find a painting and write your own short piece. They’re a lot of fun and a good trigger to get the brain muscle ready for bigger tales. Which is where I’m headed now…

The Visitation by Rob Harrison