Posted in Challenges and Contests, Flash Fiction Pieces, Marketing my Writing, My Poetry, Story a Day May Challenge, Writers' Resources, Writing in Freedom, Writing Samples

Air #StaD Kifo Project for May 17

Welcome, friends! Come in, and let me tell you a Story A Day, all May long…

In June and July, I’ll be drafting two new Kifo Island novels. I know something about 5 of the 6 point of view characters, and I’ve got a sketchy idea of the plots – but I need to learn more about these people and their stories.

So, in May, I explore. Every day, I’ll follow the prompts in A Month of Writing Prompts 2016. I’ll play while moving through my planning efforts. Some of these stories may become part of the eventual novels, but my goal is to invite these characters to show me who they are and what they want – and how their lives fit together to make a novel.

I’ve been writing my story each day, but I slipped behind in my posting. I’m hoping to catch up by the end of the day, and finish the month out on time.

I continue with May 16, following the daily prompt, a story Inspired by Real Events 

Week Three is our Rescue Week  – some easier prompts that offset the challenges behind and still ahead.

This story is based on a local happening from a few weeks ago. A man at the trailer park where my brother and his family live was playing his music too loudly, and, when the manager went to speak to him, a fight resulted. The manager strangled the man, who died a day or two later. I’ve been disturbed ever since that people kill people, sometimes, for reasons that are trivial, and certainly not worth a life.

I translated this event into a story poem for my character Ubunta, and an attack on her for singing.

Warning: This story is rated PG-13 for life-threatening violence.

Air

Air.

Ubunta struggled.

Big hands choked off her air.

Big body pressed her down.

She needed to breathe.

She could still hear music.

She felt its echoes.

Was this how she was going to die?

Why?

All I was doing was singing.”

There was no air to say it.

No voice.

No way free.

Struggling wasn’t working.

Heart pounded mad discordant beat.

Lungs shrieked, “Inhale! Inflate!”

She couldn’t.

Couldn’t breathe.

Couldn’t get free.

Couldn’t live without air.

Even a little.

Air.

Author:

I am myself. I own my life, and live with three other people who own theirs. My intention is to do only those things that bring me joy, and to give myself wholly to those things I do. Writing has been my passion throughout my life, and this will become the home for my writing life...because it brings me great joy!

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