University begins. So do old routines.

Monday was once the occasion for short stories – I only managed four over the last semester before I became beboggled by weighty assignments and wretched sloth. With my Noumenal serial being my main priority at present, it’s going to be a bit tricky to motivate myself to write something new every week…

But let’s take baby steps.

I believe this was trending earlier this Bloganuary – six word stories.Supposedly, this trend has origins in a bet Hemingway won whilst eating at a diner with friends, wherein he pulled off immense emotional importance in six words. A very easy challenge to start my revival with – I always say that making life hard for yourself yields interesting results!

The famous sextet smidgeon reads as follows:

For sale: Baby shoes, never worn.

One hell of a gut punch in just one line. Simply spliced modifiers wringing untold amounts of tragic speculation. How much can I provoke in six words?

Here’s my haul:

• Combed shores for my brother’s bones.
• Things dwelt among the distant pylons.
• His murderer bore his savior’s child.
• Reality flashes before dead Gods eyes.
• Little poems, big ego. Fuck Atticus.
• He ate his inmates’ last meals.
• Knocking? Who’s there? Thomas Aldrich’s lawyers.
• Donald Duck mistaken for serial killer. (Fucking public domain shenanigans!)
• Whole Cliffside conspired against lost boy.
• “Terror” made monsters of the meek.
• Out vile Jelly! No special effects.
• AI finally develops individual thought. Buggerlugs.
• No time to feed the sheep.
• Oi! That’s My codpiece you’re wearing.
• Henry VIII – Misunderstood musician of yore.
• Cashier took my soul by accident. (Hate when that happens)
• Eyes, eyes. Watching from the styes.
• Less words typed, more words tripe.

And to finish it off, my “Noumenal” Project in six words:

“A journey through Fiction’s purgatorial plane.”

It’s impossible not to sound pretentious writing these. It really is. Don’t spend your week doing this, I beg you – you deserve better!