Define: internship? A Chief Xerox Officer
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Thursday
Friday
define: society
"A society is a junk bond, or at best a bow tie" (Stephane MOT - Dura Lexicon Sed Lexicon)
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Thursday
define: sex
"Sex is the seat of intelligence when we stop thinking. Or when we start thinking seriously." - (Stephane MOT - Dura Lexicon Sed Lexicon)
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Sunday
Flash fiction : Monsoon Story
Chris suggested "monsoon story" as a prompt for Saturday's SWW (under pouring rain - typhoon hitting Korea). My poor shot :
The kid doesn't even try to yell. Their eyes have locked and all the information has been transferred at broadband speed : I'm stuck on this roof, this flash flood is going to swallow it soon, and there's no way a 12 year old like me can survive this fury. What can a 40ish guy like you do to help me, beyond documenting my certain death with his camera, that is ?
Brad keeps shooting, the quizzical look on the kid's face now an angry stare. Now he can't lower his Nikon for fear of facing it without the protection of several layers of lenses.
Won't this goddam roof ever collapse ?
Answering Brad's prayers, a sinister crrraack tears through the merciless downpour.
The first thing the kid asked his rescuers in the chopper was if they could pick his camera, still hanging on that tree by the broken bridge.
Stephane MOT - 20110625
more flash fictions
The kid doesn't even try to yell. Their eyes have locked and all the information has been transferred at broadband speed : I'm stuck on this roof, this flash flood is going to swallow it soon, and there's no way a 12 year old like me can survive this fury. What can a 40ish guy like you do to help me, beyond documenting my certain death with his camera, that is ?
Brad keeps shooting, the quizzical look on the kid's face now an angry stare. Now he can't lower his Nikon for fear of facing it without the protection of several layers of lenses.
Won't this goddam roof ever collapse ?
Answering Brad's prayers, a sinister crrraack tears through the merciless downpour.
The first thing the kid asked his rescuers in the chopper was if they could pick his camera, still hanging on that tree by the broken bridge.
Stephane MOT - 20110625
more flash fictions
Friday
Flash fiction : What am I doing here ?
Not a fiction but flash nonetheless (the deal : "What am I doing here", true story that happened to you, under 200 words)
"Late December 1991. After a few weeks in Korea, I’m getting used to the diffuse tension of Seoul streets, and already hooked to local eateries. Today, I’m heading for a late lunch in Pimatgol, and the street behind the US Embassy feels surprisingly quiet and deserted.
Suddenly, a projectile passes just inches from my nose. In the corner of my eye a man ducks behind a concrete fence. More dark shadows swiftly shift positions in the street covered with snow.
Then I realize these Korean soldiers are enjoying the mother of all snow battles, running for cover behind fences, giggling as they pack their next balls. Kids playing with kids weapons, but also full grown men with the most advanced military training.
Now tens of snowballs are crisscrossing the street at the same time in a perfectly organized choreography. I wish I had a camera to catch this ephemeral Bruegelian scene but at the same time, this moment should not be existing.
I don’t remember if I stayed long or just kept walking across this surreal battlefield. I do remember smiling back at a few warriors, cheering for a bull’s eye shot, and never again witnessing such joy on their faces."
"Late December 1991. After a few weeks in Korea, I’m getting used to the diffuse tension of Seoul streets, and already hooked to local eateries. Today, I’m heading for a late lunch in Pimatgol, and the street behind the US Embassy feels surprisingly quiet and deserted.
Suddenly, a projectile passes just inches from my nose. In the corner of my eye a man ducks behind a concrete fence. More dark shadows swiftly shift positions in the street covered with snow.
Then I realize these Korean soldiers are enjoying the mother of all snow battles, running for cover behind fences, giggling as they pack their next balls. Kids playing with kids weapons, but also full grown men with the most advanced military training.
Now tens of snowballs are crisscrossing the street at the same time in a perfectly organized choreography. I wish I had a camera to catch this ephemeral Bruegelian scene but at the same time, this moment should not be existing.
I don’t remember if I stayed long or just kept walking across this surreal battlefield. I do remember smiling back at a few warriors, cheering for a bull’s eye shot, and never again witnessing such joy on their faces."
Thursday
Did you hear the paper this morning ?
Did you hear the paper this morning ?
It drunk crashed on our doorsteps
Barked insane stories in our kitchen
Spread thick traffic jam over my toast
Did you hear the paper this morning ?
I tried to stamp it with a coffee ring
To cut the comics for the young lady
But couldn’t even swat a fly with it
Did you hear the paper this morning ?
Nope, I couldn’t hear a thing
Not even a ping from your cell
Paperless papers burn in silent Hell
20110216
It drunk crashed on our doorsteps
Barked insane stories in our kitchen
Spread thick traffic jam over my toast
Did you hear the paper this morning ?
I tried to stamp it with a coffee ring
To cut the comics for the young lady
But couldn’t even swat a fly with it
Did you hear the paper this morning ?
Nope, I couldn’t hear a thing
Not even a ping from your cell
Paperless papers burn in silent Hell
20110216
Saturday
Flash Fiction: Christmas Carol
Here's my piece for tomorrow's Seoul Writers Workshop Holiday Brunch. Like last year, the thema is simply Holiday. This story is not very original either, but that's what knocked first on my attic's door today. As usual it ended up at least twice shorter than the 600 word limit. SM
Christmas Carol
The kids are back. Again, the same tuneless, inarticulate song.
They started on Christmas eve, last week. They've come back every night. He wouldn't open the door then, he won't now.
Granted, he's never been much of a good neighbor - but stalking certainly won't change that fact of life.
Robert simply uncovers the peephole. Lights are off outside, but thanks to the fat moon and omnipresent snow he can clearly make out each face.
Like on every night before, there's one more kid in the crew.
And tonight, guess who ? The Gonzales girl.
Robert wants to think about last summer, her contagious laughter when she played with Tommy Evans and his dog… But he only can hear the sick dry sound as the stake pierced through her ribs, two weeks ago.
What's her name by the way ? Not a Maria but something close… Marila maybe ? Whatever. The name can be close, this thing is not close to the Marila he knew…
Not even two weeks, come to think of it. And here she is, standing and singing, this big dark shape on her white dress.
Something tells him he'll see more of those big dark shapes around. Particularly when the adults are back from wherever they went to lately. Some maul frenzy, probably.
Robert manages a chuckle. He who always found Christmas Carols depressing…
Oh. It's over now. At last, a truly silent night.
But they'll come back.
Looks like they always do.
Stephane MOT
Seoul 20101211
Copyright
PS: I'll probably switch back to the initial ending, which echoes the title: sounds like they always do
Christmas Carol
The kids are back. Again, the same tuneless, inarticulate song.
They started on Christmas eve, last week. They've come back every night. He wouldn't open the door then, he won't now.
Granted, he's never been much of a good neighbor - but stalking certainly won't change that fact of life.
Robert simply uncovers the peephole. Lights are off outside, but thanks to the fat moon and omnipresent snow he can clearly make out each face.
Like on every night before, there's one more kid in the crew.
And tonight, guess who ? The Gonzales girl.
Robert wants to think about last summer, her contagious laughter when she played with Tommy Evans and his dog… But he only can hear the sick dry sound as the stake pierced through her ribs, two weeks ago.
What's her name by the way ? Not a Maria but something close… Marila maybe ? Whatever. The name can be close, this thing is not close to the Marila he knew…
Not even two weeks, come to think of it. And here she is, standing and singing, this big dark shape on her white dress.
Something tells him he'll see more of those big dark shapes around. Particularly when the adults are back from wherever they went to lately. Some maul frenzy, probably.
Robert manages a chuckle. He who always found Christmas Carols depressing…
Oh. It's over now. At last, a truly silent night.
But they'll come back.
Looks like they always do.
Stephane MOT
Seoul 20101211
Copyright
PS: I'll probably switch back to the initial ending, which echoes the title: sounds like they always do
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