Eccentric Exploration

Fiction Prompted Writings

‘most creative keyword research project I’ve seen in a while’

by Trish / 06/09/2018

“Tell me again how this works?” The steady clickity sounds emanating from the laptop paused, followed by a telltale squeak of chair, as she twisted to face me. She tilted her head to the side, as though she was listening for something, or perhaps accessing files in some internal server. “To be honest, I’m not sure that it does work, or rather, will work. This is all very experimental. But basically it’s this. I ask for writing prompts from friends.…

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Poetry Prompted

A pantoum on the subject of living in Ymir

by Trish / 06/09/2018

On the subject of a Pantoum Sleepy quiet mountain town Oh how you rage from time to time Blowing off (it’s not just) steam There are no trains here anymore Oh how you rage from time to time The winters long, there’s so much snow There are no trains here anymore We’re left to our own devices The winters long, there’s so much snow We pray for spring, in January We’re left to our own devices This is a top…

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Fiction Prompted

Sugar, 1000 words, YA fiction

by Trish / 05/09/2018

His kisses taste bittersweet. I watch him pour the white crystals onto the spoon hovering over the coffee, his technique such that none might escape their fate. Three heaping spoonfuls in every cup. I tease him sometimes about his future career as a diabetic, and he smiles, that toothy grin that makes me want to reach over, brush away the hair that had flopped in front of his eyes, and kiss him every time. I can taste an undercurrent of…

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Fiction Poetry Prompted

20+ texts, gaining intensity, written as haikus

by Trish / 04/09/2018

I hope you don’t mind I felt compelled to write you Your words moved me so. What a compliment I find your voice beautiful So much more than mine. Oh honey. You’re just .. It’s like you speak directly .. You make my soul ache. That recognition? When two souls meet, and just know? I’d given up hope. Hope is for suckers. I’ve been telling myself that For so so long now. Ha! Me too. The same. I’ve become so…

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Fiction Prompted

“The worst castles” – 500-1000 words in the style of Raymond Carver

by Trish / 30/08/2018

The wind whipped across the dunes, as though it knew there were better places to be. It brushed sand up against the clapboard houses, mostly silent now, summer having been bundled up and tucked into a back closet until next year. The woman clutched at her skirt, holding it tight against legs that had made men whistle low and long, a more menacing wind than the one that currently buffeted. She used the other hand to shade the late September…

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Fiction Poetry Prompted

Demon eyes, rabbits and whiskey – 150 words in the style of Poe.

by Trish / 30/08/2018

As I ponder where I should begin Propped up by whiskey, or is it gin I considered all the words that came before. Inspired by darkness, dreaded, foul Stories that called forth a howl, A scream for mercy I would oft ignore. I delighted in the midnight things, Of demon eyes, the sound of wings, Of monsters that would chill you to the core. I brazenly fulfilled the need, Nefarious thoughts that seemed to breed Like rabbits, seemingly with no…

Fiction

Festival season

by Trish / 13/07/2018

We live at the bottom of the mountain. With the spring sun comes the winter runoff, and this prepares us, to some extent, for the deluge of summer. I don’t know how many more years we can do this though, I’m terrified that we’re running out of room. And once the mountain is full, I honestly don’t know what will happen next. Some years ago, two men arrived at the bottom of the mountain, red car rag top dust trailing…

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Fiction

Nothing is good or bad, but thinking makes it so.

by Trish / 10/07/2018

A knock on the door in the middle of the night is rarely a good omen. Laura could see, through the picture window of the living room, the police car parked on the street as she crossed sleepily to the door, pulling her threadbare terrycloth robe tight, cinching the mismatched belt haphazardly. She could hear stirring in the bedroom behind her, knew that Harvey had been sleeping fitfully this night. She shouldn’t have burdened him with truth. But it was…

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Fiction

What’s past is prologue.

by Trish / 03/07/2018

The sound of the screen door slamming was nearly eclipsed by the crack of thunder that rolled across the sky. She closed her eyes, and let the weight of the last ten years slide in salty paths down her cheeks, as the heavens opened in commiseration. The sound of his engine roared and it wasn’t a stretch to imagine his tires tearing up the lawn, which never got a chance to recover from his obstinate refusal to use the driveway,…

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