The Fantasy/Reality World of a Writer

Eighty Seventh Friday Flash: Waltzing Through Darkness

noreply@blogger.com (Craig Smith) — Thu, 15 Dec 2016 22:30:00 +0000

Waltzing through darkness

Eroding the soles

Tumble, tumble

Don't fear the rumble

A flash of wings

Too many to see

Together we will fly

Away from the watchful eye

Sanctuary we seek

To heal the things that leak

Warm and tight

You won't leave my sight

Braying and scathing

Trouble wishes to invade

With strength and cunning

Scars we will evade

Forever and more

I want nothing more

Eighty Sixth Friday Flash: Going Viral

noreply@blogger.com (Craig Smith) — Fri, 05 Sep 2014 11:27:00 +0000

Image Source

AP53 didn't know what to do. Everyone was infected. It just took the slightest touch and he would be infected too; doomed to lose all function every so often to sprout out 15 to 30 seconds of viral advert phrases like “50% off all stock.” “Act now!” “Gimble sausages are the tastiest you will ever eat.” “You are nothing if you don't own a Capone hat.” “Are you a loser? Then became a winner today with 72 easy monthly payments of $12.99.” It was enough to drive anyone mad.

Bizarrely no accidents had been caused by it yet, with the virus program seeming to recognize the user would be in a life threatening situation if it activated at the wrong moment, but people couldn't be busy all the time. Taking public transport was a nightmare with random slogans being thrown around continuously.

Everything had been tried from root installs to total wipeouts. It was because the systems installing the restore points were infected too and just reloaded the virus. There were numerous “cures” out there, but all of them had been proved to be bogus conmen trying to make a quick buck.

But if AP53 didn't connect to the NETWORK soon he would lose his job and apartment. His supposed permanent connection AM69 had left him last week, saying he was against change and should just accept it. But why should he let large corporations hijack his body and turn him into walking billboard.

Most ignored it, they were so bombarded with adverts that they just didn't care anymore. A few had taken their lives because it was just too much. His friend ART78 had thrown himself into a garbage compactor just that morning. The police were at the door.

“Please sign this release form,” said the android officer. ART78 had left him his entire digital collection of movies and literature.

Shocked and operating on autopilot AP53 pressed his thumb to the electronic clipboard.

The door closed behind AP53 and ten seconds later he stopped dead still. “Are you a lonely bachelor and looking to settle down? Then look no further than 'Date an Officer.' Your number one source for meeting potential dates in uniform.”

First Podcast Interview on the Fred Felton Show

noreply@blogger.com (Craig Smith) — Thu, 10 Jul 2014 11:11:00 +0000

Fred Felton MC, Copywriter, Author and Blogger was very kind to interview me recently. You can find Fred on Twitter here and his blog here

As discussed in the interview you can find The Boy From Sweden here. If you pay full price I will donate 100% of the revenue to CANSA and if you download it for free and review it I will donate the same amount. Code is SE46E

You can find my Facebook here

And as always if you have any questions please ask.

Charity Drive

noreply@blogger.com (Craig Smith) — Thu, 12 Jun 2014 14:58:00 +0000

Good day all,

Hope you are all well? My brother is fighting cancer, it has been a difficult time for the family, but everyone is doing their best to be positive My brother has had some help through the Cancer Association of South Africa and I wanted to do my bit to help. Every little helps! And if you know of any similar causes please let me know I want to help.

So until 31st July (will most probably extend) you can get The Boy from Sweden for free using the code SE46E at Smashwords or if you pay $1.99 I will donate 100% of the revenue ($1.39) to @CANSA

Or if you read the book for free or paid and review it I will donate another $1.39.

Smashwords

You can also find the book at these fine online retailers. 100% revenues from these sales will also be donated.

Barnes and Noble

iTunes

TXTR

Scribd

Eighty Fifth Friday Flash: Closer to the Sun

noreply@blogger.com (Craig Smith) — Fri, 14 Mar 2014 08:48:00 +0000

Source

Blinded by the sunset, quarters in my pocket, wind in my hair and wonder in my heart.

Distance keeps away but inside we are together. Fear has no purchase here, every attempt denied.

To touch is to feel and to feel is to touch. That's why I care about you so much.

The horizon it will come. Every step closer to the sun.

Magnetic are my thoughts, to you I am always pulled.

Eighty Fourth Friday Flash: No Place Like Gnome

noreply@blogger.com (Craig Smith) — Fri, 07 Mar 2014 13:27:00 +0000

Labour minister Reddish Green was in today to answer questions in the Upper House of Parliament.

"When will the exploitation of gnomes stop?" asked Fairly Apt the leader of the opposition party.

"What exploitation?"

"Ha! The list is endless! They are paid minimum wage to stand in front of people's homes to be stared at and made fun of. How can you not call that exploitation?"

"Nonsense! It's tradition and they enjoy it."

"How about the gnomes who are forced to smoke pipes? Some are asthmatic for crumb's sake!"

"No one is forcing them to smoke and if they wish they can always switch to the new electronic smoking pipes."

"Bah! What about the vegetarian gnomes that are forced to fish? It's against all their principles!" Fairly Apt shook his fist.

"They are not forced to do anything. This is a waste of everyone's time and besides they are not even fishing for real fish!"

"You are not taking this seriously, I will not stand by while these poor people are used and abused!"

"I don't know where you are getting your facts from! Gnomes have one of the strongest unions there are. If anything they have it too good!"

Fairly Apt smiled an evil little smile. "What about the rumours you kicked a defenceless gnome?"

"I did no such thing! Hang on a minute since when did the opposition party members start sporting beards?"

"Ah oh!" said the imposter who was actually gnome in disguise. He jumped off his friend's shoulders and they both ran out the room.

Pandemonium broke out. The speaker of the house banged his gavel until there was order. He cleared his throat. "Be honest, did you kick a gnome or not?"

"Yes, but only because the dirty scoundrel pinched my wife's bottom!"

Eighty Third Friday Flash: Filbert

noreply@blogger.com (Craig Smith) — Fri, 21 Feb 2014 08:46:00 +0000

Filbert died during the evening of his 212th birthday. A day before he was due to open another park in his honour. It was a peaceful death. All his favourite droids were there. Some were saddened by his decision, others relieved.

Now the title of best living male actor was up for grabs. His collection of 59 Oscars would take some beating. He collected 3 for his last project: The Robot King of Mars just last week. His critics were touting the fact that he wouldn't be getting more, ignoring that his closest rival had 7 and already retired from acting.

Much to the disappointment of his large family of 3478 members he left all his money, assets and future royalty earnings to the robot charity: "For the Betterment of Young Destitute Robot Actors."

All 3578 family members lodged appeals and complaints one second after Filbert's last will and testament was announced. All 3578 cases were rejected 0.1 seconds later.

His actions were applauded by his fans, supporters and public in general. All 3578 family members sent out statements that they weren't after his wealth and it was all their lawyer's fault. The lawyer didn't mind because he was paid 3578 times twice for the appeals and issuing the statements.

Filbert had a calm and triumphant smile on his face when he was deactivated by an "On Time Pass Away" device.

Some speculated it was a publicity stunt, but with new conspiracy theories and another statue of him being bronzed there was one thing everyone knew for sure, Filbert would never be forgotten.

(Reality) Brief Brush with the Police

noreply@blogger.com (Craig Smith) — Sun, 16 Feb 2014 16:55:00 +0000

Last night (15th February) I was walking home from work (Coral) I walked past 3 police cars parked between a car service centre and a shoe shop. Didn't think much of it. Then another police car with two police officers close by looking around and pointing. My curiosity was piqued, but thought best to get in before I was caught up in it. Walking further a taxi cab came speeding up and stopped next to me. A policeman jumped out and rushed over and said: "Let's have a look at you, mate." He pulled back my beanie and hood (bloody freezing) and looked at me closer asking who I was, I replied: "I'm Craig.". He then said: "Looking for someone else." and walked off.

I felt a short thrill of excitement going through me moments later. Was caught up in something unusual. Also makes me wonder, why was the policeman using a taxi? And who were they looking for? @dlrphotography suggested it was my evil twin. Well, I hope he splits his ill gotten gains with me!

The Boy from Sweden (Release date and synopsis)

noreply@blogger.com (Craig Smith) — Thu, 23 Jan 2014 11:21:00 +0000

Hi all,

After a long break I will be releasing some new fiction. A new novella called The Boy from Sweden. The release date will be on February the 24th. It will be released through Smashwords and it will go live on Amazon and other sites soon after.

Expecting an experience of a lifetime Gunter gets more than he ever imagined when he arrives in South Africa as an exchange student. Being badly injured in the crossfire of a hijacking, considering the circumstances he decides to stay against his parents' wishes. Creating a perfect life there, a tight bond with his host family, new friendships and falling in love with a girl. All of a sudden his perfect life takes a new direction, where those tight bonds will be pushed to the limits. An adventure that will take you on a journey where your values of love, friendship, compassion and forgiveness will be challenged.

Smog in Skopje, Macedonia (20th December 2013)

noreply@blogger.com (Craig Smith) — Fri, 20 Dec 2013 22:18:00 +0000

22nd December, Aerodrom

Eighty Second Friday Flash: The Magic Pillowcase

noreply@blogger.com (Craig Smith) — Fri, 29 Nov 2013 23:50:00 +0000

Image Source

The air was thick with the smell of damp hay. John scooped up all the muck and grime off the floor. Hard work but it distracted him from the pain he felt in his heart. His wife was close to surgery, the doctors said it was touch and go on whether she would make it. Her mother was with her and she blamed the situation on him, which only frustrated him further, he only wanted the best for his wife.

Most of the animals were in the barn today, it was too cold for them to be out. With his work done, he went over and stroked the bull Moosby's neck. The bovine moved and stamped his hoof in appreciation. Moosby's eyes darted to the side and he shied away. John searched the room, it was a mouse sitting in the middle of the floor staring at them.

John gripped the handle of his broom. Ready to shoo it away, but it seemed to beckon his with its little paw, curious, John followed it. The mouse went up to the second floor of the barn, where the bales of hay were kept. It stopped to look at him a few times, as if to check he was still following it.

Dodging a few spiderwebs and climbing over some hay bales John found himself in the corner. There was a shaft of morning little shining through a hole in the roof. One day he would have to fix that. The mouse was sitting on something white and dusty. He couldn't believe it, it was his wife's favourite pillowcase. It had gone missing a week before she was rushed to hospital.

John got out some of his breakfast nuts and berries and gave it to the mouse. It sat there chewing as John gently pulled the pillowcase away from it. With the pillowcase in hand he rushed to the farmhouse.

The washing machine and tumble dryer seemed to take forever. He had to get it to his wife, he knew it would comfort her.

When he reached the ward she was staying in he was shocked to discover that she wasn't there. In a panic he grabbed the nearest nurse.

“My wife?”

“Oh, Mr. Johnson, didn't you know? She is in surgery, your mother-in-law said she would inform you.”

He would need to confront his mother-in-law later. “How is she?”

Just then his wife was wheeled in. She looked so tired, but he was so happy to see she was okay. He glared at his mother-in-law and she stared back. The nurse took in the situation.

“Come, Mr's Arden, your daughter needs her husband.”

His mother-in-law began to protest but stopped when she saw the pillowcase with the rainbow design in his hand.

John sat down next to his wife and took her hand in his. It was warm, but unresponsive. With the nurse's help he changed the pillowcase.

He felt a gentle squeeze and opened his eyes. Her other hand rested on the pillowcase. She looked very weak, but there was a smile on her face. It was all that he needed to see. It was going to be a long road, but everything was going to be just fine.

Eighty First Friday Flash: Bump

noreply@blogger.com (Craig Smith) — Fri, 01 Nov 2013 06:35:00 +0000

Ruza was filing away some dusty files, she was an intern, what else would she be doing?

“Boo!” said Bob, her fellow intern behind her.

Startled, Ruza smacked her head on a cabinet draw. She saw a whole sprinkling of stars before the whole world came back into view.

“Ow!”

“Oh, Ruza! Did you hurt yourself?”

Ruza turned and growled at him. “Damn right I did!”

Bob looked ashamed with his large eyes, fuzzy cheeks and button nose. Wait, something wasn't right. Ruza laughed.

“What is it?”

“You look like a panda bear!”

Bob's frown deepened. “Maybe you should see a doctor?”

“Nah, I'm sure it's nothing,” said Ruza.

“Go have a break, I will finish here.”

Rubbing her head Ruza went to the coffee room. A bright pink flamingo was standing on one leg drinking a latte and nibbling on a doughnut.

Ruza giggled. Maybe she did have a concussion or something after all.

“Don't look at me that way! I used low fat milk.”

That confirmed it, it had to be Angela from reception she was always concerned about her appearance. This was too much fun, she had to go see what the others looked like. Bill from accounting was a mole with thick glasses. Busy body Beatrice was a bumble bee. And showoff Ted from marketing was a peacock.

They all looked at her as if she was high on glue.

She only had one more person to see, Catherine her boss. Ruza burst into the main office. She had to see before the affect wore off.

Ruza laughed louder than ever before. She was right! Her boss was an old and hairy shrew! The giant shrew in a business suit squealed.

Moments later Adam the wild boar from security hauled her away towards the elevator. A confused Bob tagged along saying they must get her to the hospital.

Ruza looked at herself in the mirror of the elevator. She was a penguin.

Ruza liked penguins.

Eightieth Friday Flash: Fresh off the Battlefield

noreply@blogger.com (Craig Smith) — Fri, 09 Aug 2013 10:14:00 +0000

Image Source

Everyone was dead. All his friends, his horse, even the fearless general lay in a pool of his own blood. Mark Sheldon wasn't far from it himself a shot to his upper thigh. He was bound to bleed out sooner or later. It was all too much, to top it all off there was a scavenger moving among the dead. Grabbing rifles and picking pockets. Mark wouldn't stand for it. Wearily aiming his gun he got the plum shaped man in his sights and fired. Like a sack of potatoes the vulture went down.

The man let out such a wail. Not wanting to have to deal with the noise Mark moved closer to finish the job, every step more painful than the last. Within feet of the man Mark raised his pistol.

“No! Wait you don't understand. They didn't need them anymore. They are long dead!”

Mark spat. Long dead!? Just five minutes ago Leopold had smiled at him as he took his last breath.

“Scum.”

“They are priceless, I just couldn't bare to see them rot.”

The more the man spoke the harder it became for Mark to pull the trigger. Closing his eyes the thought of the man pick pocketing his corpse coming to mind.

“Here I will show you...” the man had a card in his hand.

There was a loud crack.

Fearing dark omens for not honouring the dead man's wish Mark leaned over and picked up the bloodied card.

It read:

Tim's Time Travelling Antiques Store.

Seventy-Ninth Friday Flash: Cylinder

noreply@blogger.com (Craig Smith) — Fri, 31 May 2013 13:31:00 +0000

It was a busy morning. The rains of the last few weeks had finally stopped. Everyone was doing their best to cram as much work into the dry time as possible. Toby and Don were digging the foundations. Toby by the dig site and Don behind the controls.

“Just a bit deeper now,” said Toby over their two way radio.

“Right, oh.”

The head of the digging arm went deeper into the rich soil, bringing up bits of rock at the same time. Don took a few more sizable chunks out of the earth before there was a loud clanging noise.

“Whao! We've hit something.”

“And we were making such good progress.”

“I know, I hope we don't have to call in the boffins. The last thing we need is an archaeological dig.”

“Let me dig around it to see what we have.”

Don was surprisingly adept with the large machine. Within in a few minutes half it was unearthed. It seemed to be a cylinder.

Don joined Toby be the edge of the site. “Do think it's a bomb?”

“Nah, look there's a window in the side of it. Maybe it's one of those time capsules.”

“Quick, let's check it out before the others notice. Might be something valuable in it,” said Don rubbing his hands together.

“Haha, I doubt it, but let's go look.”

Don was the first to crouch down and get eye level with the window. He let out a yelp and scrambled backwards bring down loose dirt on top of him.

“What is it?”

“There... there's someone in it.”

“Impossible!”

“Look for yourself.”

Toby tentatively went down, he had never seen Don shocked before, but maybe it was part of an act to scare him. Toby cleared away some more of the dirt and leaned down to have a look. Sure enough a man with bright eyes waved at him.

“Holy moly!”

“What should we do?”

“We have to get him out. Can't just leave him in there.”

By the time the cylinder was pulled out and placed on level ground there was quite a crowd gathering. The man seemed to be happy and cheery. The most miraculous part was that he seemed to be healthy. There was a long and thin hatchway that included the window. People had tried, but it wouldn't open.

Local media had gathered and some said the military were on their way. There was a loud hissing sound and the hatchway opened.

The main wearing only the most modest of clothing stepped out.

“Who are you?” asked Don, stepping forward, he felt that it was his discovery and wanted to make sure people remembered that.

“I am Adam. Part of the next of wave colonization. Where is my Eve?”

Everyone looked to each other speechless.

Seventy Eighth Friday Flash: Venus' Way

noreply@blogger.com (Craig Smith) — Fri, 24 May 2013 12:02:00 +0000

Pyro Flowers by Katie Cresswell. Image found here:

There was another dust storm, and with near gale forces winds it was like being sandblasted. It pelted against the tram windows. The other passengers were grim too, bowed heads and sad faces. All except one. A woman with golden hair that seemed to shine. She had a glorious smile on her face, she tapped her delicate fingers on the seat in front.

Korvus was drawn to her. What was her secret? Why smile when water was rationed to a few cupfuls a day.

Korvus had to find out. He sat next to her. She didn't seem to notice him at all. Just carried on looking out the window.

“Why so happy?”

“Why not, there's a lot to live for.”

“You're one of them rich folk aren't you? One of those people who relish in showing off their water. I heard yesterday that someone was keeping a gold fish. Can you imagine that? A gold fish!”

“Gold fish are pretty.”

The girl leaned past him and pulled the string for the bell. He breathed in an enchanting scent. Korvus was still two stops away from the hovel he called a home.

The girl with the alluring smile hopped off the tram. Seeming to take any hope for happiness with her. Caught on a whim he chased after her and leaped off the tram as it got going again. Using a scarf to protect himself from the worst of the wind he looked for the girl.

The girl was already disappearing around the corner of the next street. Korvus dashed after her. For four blocks he followed her. Trying to catch up, to stop her, but she was too fast.

At last they reached a back alley. The girl in the yellow dress went down it. It looked a bit dodgy, but if she wasn't afraid why should he be?

He walked halfway down and could not find her at all. Maybe it was just a shortcut. Then he heard some some clanging. He looked up. She was climbing up a ladder. Within moments she was up on the roof.

Too late to turn back he went up after her. Short of breath and dying for something to drink he stopped climbing as soon as his head reached eye level with the roof. All before him was a green garden. Stuffed with flowers, fruits and vegetables. Not even the richest water hog could afford to raise so much agriculture.

“Amazing, isn't it?”

“Sure is, and I wasn't stalking you if you wanted to know.”

“I know,” she said with a smile.

He didn't know which was more beautiful. Her or the garden. The garden was surrounded by other buildings, protecting it from the worst of the winds.

“But how? Water is so scarce.”

“Let me show you.”

She beckoned him forward, deeper into the dense garden. A horrible stench reached his nose. He gagged.

“Hey, what's that smell?”

There was no reply. Just laughter. Korvus turned around. The lady in yellow didn't look so sweet anymore. Vines were twirling around his feet and hands. Strong vines he had no hope of breaking.

The lady stopped laughing abruptly. “Did you know the average human being is 55%-75% water?”

Korvus couldn't reply. There was a vine tightening itself around his neck.

“Oh well, a woman's work is never done, I better getting going. I wouldn't want my little darlings to go thirsty.”

The last thing Korvus saw was the strange girl kissing a rose and sauntering off towards the ladder.

Matka Canyon, Macedonia

noreply@blogger.com (Craig Smith) — Tue, 16 Apr 2013 16:04:00 +0000

A video from Matka Canyon in Macedonia

Will be uploading more soon.

Skopje, Macedonia

noreply@blogger.com (Craig Smith) — Mon, 15 Apr 2013 21:17:00 +0000

Biser (Pearl) Shopping Mall

Aerodrom Boulevard Jane Sandanski

Train Station, Skopje

Ministry of Foreign Affairs

Macedonian Flag

Vardar River

New Opera House

Faith, Hope and Love Willow Trees

Tose Proevski

Stone Bridge

Aleksander the Great

My sweetheart and I (First photo together)

New Theater

Arc of Triumph Makedonija

Mother Theresa

Kale Fortress

Hand from old Yugoslavian Monument

Old Ottoman Ammunition House

Macedonia Street

Well at Mother Theresa's House

Breakfast Together at Four Seasons

Macedonia Street

City Centre

Warrior on a Horse

Art Bridge

Gratski Fraer

Seventy Seventh Friday Flash: Fire Fight

noreply@blogger.com (Craig Smith) — Fri, 08 Feb 2013 10:46:00 +0000

You can read the other parts here:

Fire Hair - Image Source

“So, how was your day?” asked Phoebe.

“Some drama this morning, a couple and their kids came in and moments later another woman comes in. She's friendly at first and then shouting and screaming that the guy ruined her life and took away her children,” said Tony. They were eating take away food at his place. It wasn't nice as Phoebe's, a small apartment above the convenience store he worked at.

“Drama for sure, the kids?”

“They seemed to be clueless about it all.”

“A shame, and I bet the woman must be in a lot of pain.”

“Indeed, sorry for bringing it up.”

“Don't be, life ain't pretty, hardly ever is, but when it is you must treasure those moments.”

“Like this one with you.”

Phoebe laughed. “It's hardly special, this food isn't the best.”

“I mean the company, any time with you is precious.”

“You charmer,” said Phoebe cracking a smile.

“I try my best,” he smiled broadly back.

Phoebe took the last sip of her coffee. “I better be getting home.”

“Are you sure you don't want to spend the night?”

“You need to get up early and I have things to do, maybe some other night, okay?”

There was a moment of sadness before the smile returned. Tony stretched and yawned. “I am pretty darn tired.”

“I will get my car.”

“I came on my scooter remember?”

“Yes, yes, I am tired. I will come down with you.”

The wind was biting outside and Phoebe's coat seemed inadequate. She hugged herself.

Tony took off his jacket and placed it over her shoulders.

“I...”

“No, I don't need it,” he said giving her a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Th... Thank you.”

“Think nothing of it, now go, and be safe, see you tomorrow?”

“Sure,” she said with a smile.

She got on her scooter and drove off. Only looking over her shoulder for the briefest moment. Tony was still there watching her leave.

Phoebe drove on, thinking about Tony and what she was going to do about him. She was about two blocks from home when it happened. The woman, she was going to walk in front of a night bus, Phoebe could not let that happen. She gunned her little motor and hooked the woman with her left arm. Pulling her to the side.

Phoebe lost balance and they both went down. Seemingly oblivious the bus disappeared around a corner.

Before she could get up the woman came charging at her. “What did you do that for, cow!”

“Saving your life.”

“I don't need your help. I made my choice.”

“And want about the bus driver and the passengers, how will their lives be after they discover you squashed under the wheels?”

“I do not care, I don't have my man, and he stole my kids.”

“Whoa, slow down here,” said Phoebe pulling the woman aside and then her scooter, which she didn't know if it would work again.

“My like is ruined is what I'm saying!” screeched the woman.

“Wait! You were in Tony's store weren't you?”

“Tony?”

“He's a nice guy.”

“I'm sure he is,” said the woman with some resentment. Another bus came around the corner. “If you don't mind I have a bus catch.”

The woman moved forward, Phoebe grabbed her hand and pulled her back. “No you don't!”

“Leave me alone! Who are you to tell me what to do!”

“I've been there, I've been down. Don't give into it. Fight. Are you going to give up just like that?”

“What choice do I have? I can't see my kids. The bastard and the courts won't let me.”

“What about when they are adults? They will be able to make their own decisions then right?”

“And?”

“You build up your life, you find yourself, make yourself happy and by the time you are ready hopefully they will be too.”

The woman was silent for a few moments. “I guess I could get my old job back and do those courses like I wanted.”

“That's it.”

“But no! It's too hard.” The woman tried to move again, but Phoebe did not let go.

“Life is never really easy, you just have to work at it and do your best.”

“Okay...” said the woman looking towards a truck that was coming. It was clear she was not listening properly.

Phoebe had no choice. She had never done it with someone so close before. Closing her eyes she manifested River Fire. Opening her eyes Phoebe was taken by the beauty. Flaming hair and trimmer and sleeker body River Fire was the fantasy version of herself. It was the first time she had seen her alternative self while fully awake, but it was hard work and she doubted she could hold it for long.

“What... what is that/”

“Your worst nightmare if you don't do what I say,” said Phoebe and River Fire together.

The woman broke down and sobbed. “Alright, alright, for my children I will try.”

“Good,” said Phoebe taking off Tony's jacket and putting it around the woman's shoulders. “Let me take you home.”

The jacket was full of holes from the fall. She hoped Tony wouldn't mind.

Seventy Sixth Friday Flash: Penguin, Mr. Bear, and Cecil the Living Locomotive

noreply@blogger.com (Craig Smith) — Fri, 18 Jan 2013 10:50:00 +0000

Mr. Bear by DeathNoteRox

Mr. Bear was no ordinary bear. He was a train conductor and a damn fine one at that. He could take you anywhere you wanted. Anywhere. Not that he did all the work himself. His train Cecil did a lot too.

Oh the conversations they would have to the small hours of the night after work, recounting old fares, it was the best time of the day and Mr. Bear would never change it for the world. Their favourite was about a penguin.

The cutest little penguin you would ever see. Big eyes you could lose yourself in and a voice you could listen to for days.

It all started with a phone call.

“Hello, is this Mr. Bear's Train Adventures?”

“It most certainly is!”

“Oh, thank you, I hope you can help me, all the other trains, planes and vehicles are snowed in. I can't get to my family for Penguin New Year?”

“Hold a sec,” Mr. Bear peaked his head out the kitchen window and shouted out to Cecil. “Ready for some winter fun?”

Cecil tooted his whistle.

“Hello, yes, we can do it.”

“You are a lifesaver, when can I expect you?”

“Roughly seven minutes, I want to finish my tea first.”

oOo

The penguin's place was a tree house. Mr. Bear went up the spiral staircase and knocked on the door. The adorable penguin answered. There was a fire in the fireplace and paintings hanging on the walls.

“Wow, Mr. Bear, how did you find me so fast?”

“It's all Cecil.”

Penguin looked down and to the side. Cecil the living locomotive was waiting patiently at the bottom of the tree. His little boiler glowing in the gathering dusk. “Doesn't he need rails?”

“Rails are for rookies, are you ready?”

“Yes, there's not much time, New Year is in a couple of hours, and my family live near the north pole.”

“North pole?”

“I have an odd family.”

“Don't we all, even my chum Cecil down there is distantly related.”

Penguin scratched her head with a flipper. “Right, I better get ready.”

“That you should.”

Like a whirlwind the penguin went around throwing things into a pink suitcase on wheels. After a few moments with a smile on her face the penguin stopped. “Yes, that's about it.”

Mr. Bear waved his paws towards the door. “All aboard!”

Penguin jumped up and down in excitement.

oOo

It was nice and warm in Cecil's engine room. Mr. Bear liked to keep the old engine company. Within moments they swept away into the air. The furnace glowing a rich orange glow and a purple smoke pumping out of the chimney.

“Cecil can fly?”

“Just one of his many tricks.”

“I can toot the tooter?”

Cecil tooted.

“That's a yes.”

“Yay!” Penguin got a hold of the tooter and pulled on it. Cecil tooted a musical toot that filled the sky.

Seventy Fifth Friday Flash: Penguin, Bear and the Shadow

noreply@blogger.com (Craig Smith) — Fri, 14 Dec 2012 11:45:00 +0000

Image Source: Douglas Orton Imaging

At first she thought it was her imagination. It had been following from outside the store and when she saw it swallow an old woman she knew it meant business. Penguin waddled along, staring back over her shoulder. The shadow was fast approaching. Threatening to engulf her.

Looking for shelter in the underground parking hadn't been the best idea. It was well lit, but some of the lights were flickering which only put her more on edge.

The shadow was gaining. If only she had stayed at home and ordered her art supplies like a modern penguin, but she adored the old lady at the local craft shop and didn't want to see her go out of business.

An old bear was getting out of his battered yellow pickup truck. He wore a brown raincoat and a wide brimmed hat. His large nostrils sniffed the air. She went up to him just as he started walking towards the shopping centre entrance. He stopped and looked down at her. She pointed at the menacing shadow. Scowling the bear moved the penguin behind him with his big paw.

Just as the shadow was about to pounce the bear roared. The shadow quivered and stopped for a second before attacking. Roaring in pain and anger the bear flailed at the shadowy entity. Penguin had to do something. Then it hit her. Using her lock picking skills she broke into an SUV, hot-wired it and turned on the high-beams. The shadow shrieked like an banshee as it was blasted away.

Bear was in a bad way. He was bleeding and part of his left arm was missing. She felt awful dragging him into it and went over to help. Doing what she could until the ambulance arrived she rode with him to the hospital. It was one of many journeys they would be taking together.

The Next Big Thing

noreply@blogger.com (Craig Smith) — Mon, 03 Dec 2012 15:46:00 +0000

I was tagged by writer, friend, reviewer and blogger Dave-Brendon. You can find out about his next big thing here.

If you would like to be tagged please let me know and I will add you.

Here's some info about my next big thing. Please let me know if you have any questions of your own.

What is your working title of your book? African Superhero. It is very likely to change. Hoping something catchy yet meaningful comes to mind soon!

Where did the idea come from for the book? Conversations with someone close about African culture and that it would be a good idea to put a supernatural/fantasy spin to it.

What genre does your book fall under? Superhero/fantasy/adventure plus a whole blend of other genres.

Which actors would you choose to play your characters in a movie rendition? I'm still fleshing out the charaters, but so far Samuel L. Jackson, Morgan Freeman, Emma Stone, Zooey Deschanel and Sanaa Lathan

What is the one-sentence synopsis of your book? What if all the stories about the monsters you heard growing up were all true?

Will your book be self-published or represented by an agency? We shall see.

How long did it take you to write the first draft of your manuscript? Only about 5,000 words in. Long road ahead. I'm thinking it will take at least another 6 months to a year. There's a lot of research and character threads to piece together.

What other books would you compare this story to within your genre? Not sure. Any suggestions?

Who or what inspired you to write this book? Above mentioned conversations plus the fact I needed to write about something closer to home and not try fit in with everyone else. Really let my imagination go and see what comes out. It may be a disaster or it may be my best project so far. Either way I'm sure it's going to be a fun journey.

What else about your book might pique the reader's interest? Hoping to bring the superhero genre to Africa, but have a worldwide appeal at the same time. Bringing in modern technology, social media and global politics into the mix.

*****

I've tagged some great writers too.

You can find his short fiction under the Vicarius tab and his more philosophical non-fiction pieces under the Aliquam tab.

Seventy Fourth Friday Flash: Machka

noreply@blogger.com (Craig Smith) — Fri, 16 Nov 2012 07:20:00 +0000

The wind was strong and the rain was pelting down, not that it mattered much to Hocat, he had his trusty extendible umbrella and it kept the worst of it away from his vision sensors. Machka rode along on his shoulder, rubbing up against his brain case, it was the warmest and driest part of his body.

It was late and he needed an oil top up. On a low bridge in a street packed with restaurants he got out his old acoustic guitar and began to play. It was a soft and gentle melody. Machka stirred and stared at him with her wondrous green eyes. Her tail shifted side to side.

“Yes, my precious one, it's time to earn that tuna you love so much.”

Machka arched her back and rubbed up against him.

A group of potential customers came closer. Machka began to mew in tune with the song. Hocat felt he would cry if he could, it was always so beautiful to hear his little one sing.

Most of the passing group took no notice of them, except for an old lady who swayed with Machka's pining. The old lady swiped her hand over the collection hat, using a wireless connection to transfer credit. Hocat tipped his head.

Hocat felt a little better. Machka would be getting tuna tonight.

Maybe it would be a good night after all. But it wasn't to be, Hocat felt a spark of surprise and dread. Another robotic being was padding across the bridge. From the myriad of different sized parts and the odd way it walked there was no doubt that it was a scavenger. A part pirate. A bulldog with two cyborg front legs and white left electronic eye waddled next to it.

“Let's go, Machka!” Hocat clutched his guitar and his beloved close to him as he fell backwards off the bridge.

There was a moment of blissful free fall before they landed on the street below. The robot stared over the edge of the bridge. Its haunting red eyes seemed to scan them to see if it was worth the bother.

A moment later the bulldog leaped down. Hocat and his kitty ran with Machka balancing on his head and hissing at their canine foe.

“No my dear, you're tough, but he's too big for you.”

The rhythmic thud of the scavenger following suit echoed up the narrow street. The fiend most probably wanted to rip out his memory cards and sell them.

Pretty soon they were blocked off in a dead end. The robot pirate and his growling partner advanced slowly.

Hocat held his trusty guitar, after Machka it was what he loved the most.

“I like the dexterity of your fingers, I will have them.”

“Never!”

Hocat scanned the area for escape. It was between them, but there was a chance he could make it. Sprinting forward, Hocat jumped and grabbed hold of the bottom rung of a fire escape ladder. Pulling himself and Machka up he was stopped by the sudden tug of the metal jawed bulldog clamping on his foot. Its thrashing and weight made it too hard for him to climb any further. Making the split second decision to save them both Hocat released his leg and scrambled up the building. The dog dropped with a clank.

On the top of the building Hocat and Machka looked over. The scavenger was jumping up and down, but it couldn't reach the bottom rung of the ladder.

Finding a discarded piece of drainpipe and using it as a crutch Hocat hobbled along with his fuzzy friend on his shoulder.

“Come on Machka, let's find you some dinner.”

Lion Park Visit

noreply@blogger.com (Craig Smith) — Mon, 12 Nov 2012 18:30:00 +0000

Click on the image to enlarge.

Tigger the tiger having a bath.

A snake slithering across the pathway

Tigger and Rani sharing a moment.

Fascinating story: Living on a 14th story balcony

Happy lion

Simba is the oldest lioness in the park at 21 years old. She growled at us when we walked past and disrupted her sleep.

Miniature goats outside the park.

Seventy Third Friday Flash: Antopia

noreply@blogger.com (Craig Smith) — Thu, 25 Oct 2012 22:51:00 +0000

Image Source

“Come on, or we are going to be late!”

Manny clicked his mandibles in frustration. “I don't want to.”

“Do you want to learn about your past or not?”

“Okay, okay,” said Manny dragging himself away from his computer.

It was a five minute tunnel ride to the event. It was decidedly low key considering how much his big sister had been harping on about it. About a hundred other sectoids at most.

“You have me here, now what?”

His big sister shook her oval head, her compound eyes showing disappoint in him. “Such little respect. You see his gray hair and the languid way he moves?”

Manny was thinking about getting back to his game. The thing before was so fleshy and hairy, it made him cringe. “Yeah.”

“They say he's old, not much time to live, lost his appetite for food and life when his partner died.”

“And, doesn't it have a Queen, isn't there millions more of them?”

“That's the fascinating thing, there were millions of them, billions of them in fact, until a disease wiped most of them out a long time ago. Scientists found remnants of a colony underground. Breeding programs were tried. None worked. I suspect maybe they were too old and most of them had the same sexual equipment.”

Manny shrugged. “A bummer for them.”

“I don't know why I even bother.”

“Okay,” Manny went up to the glass tank. The old shriveled creature seemed to regard him with open fear. “I'm sorry you guys were wiped out and stuff. Better luck next time.” Manny whipped around. “See, are you happy now?”

“I should slap you,” said his sister raising two of her left limbs up in the air.

“Try it and I will tell mom.”

His sister shook her head. “I wonder if our species will fair any better than this poor soul and his people in the long run.”

“With annoying sisters like you around I doubt it.”

:”You know what I think this guy is the lucky one, let's go home so you can get back to your precious game.”

“Yay!”

Seventy Second Friday Flash: Love Beyond Death

noreply@blogger.com (Craig Smith) — Fri, 12 Oct 2012 17:56:00 +0000

(image source)

“You're doing it wrong,” said his girlfriend.

“Woman!” said Hamill with a mouth full of foamy toothpaste. “Will you leave me in peace!”

“Ha! If it wasn't for me your teeth would have fallen out by now.”

“And for that I thank you, my dear,” said Hamill, his voice softening.

Hamill spat out the toothpaste and gargled water before turning around and walking straight though his girlfriend. For you see his girlfriend Angie was dead. She had been for over a year now, but it hadn't meant that she had stopped telling him what to do.

oOo

“Slow down,” she said. “Your work isn't going anywhere.”

She sat next to him like she always had. Her mother was an English teacher and her father a concert pianist. Prim and proper described her to the bone. Her eyes watching his every move. It had been different when she was alive. Then he could keep her quiet with a kiss on her beautiful lips.

At first he thought it was madness of the grief he was going through that produced the manifestation. Over time it became all real, even some of his friends and family swore they saw glimpses of her.

oOo

“Sit up straight!” she said from over his shoulder at work.

“Yes dear,” he mumbled.

“Talking to yourself again?” asked a coworker.

“Yup,” said Hamill with a sigh. He had given up trying to fight the reputation that he spoke to himself.

oOo

Hamill snapped when he was eating food with his hands.

“How many times have I told you to use utensils!”

“Why couldn't you have stayed dead!” he growled.

Hamill instantly felt guilty and his heart sank when he saw the shock and hurt look on her ethereal face. He approached her to try comfort her, but she disappeared before he could. With a heavy heart he carried on with the rest of the day's duties. The incident playing over and over in his mind, wishing he had reacted differently.

Expecting to see Angie waiting in the car, he was sad she wasn't there. He leaned against the door and cried. Maybe her soul was finally in a happy place.

Driving along slowly back home he was taken by surprise when an unseen force slammed his foot into the accelerator. The only thing he saw before the truck hit him was Angie's lips mouthing the words “I love you.”