On writing.

For the past four months or so, I've been entering a flash-fiction writing contest (aptly named The Flasher). I finally bagged one for July, a $30 voucher to Sofia's restaurant, where they give you seriously large helpings of stuff. More on that later, when I upload the little pics I took.

[I know it's September already, but it didn't occur to me to blog about it last month. And currently, I'm in the mood for some bragging and self-promotion. *blek*]

The theme in July was that we had to write a story based on any of the three pictures they gave us. The first one was a pet cemetary (Stephen King, anyone?) and the third was like a lab or some sort. Reminded me of submarines. Mine is the second picture (see below), and so, on with the story:

Exodus

We walk.

Faintly, I hear birds chirping, and the crunch of the earth and twigs and dry leaves wherever I step, but I can hardly feel them beneath my bare feet.

We are on this beaten path, possibly man-made, created for trekkers hiking into the woods. No use for that now; we are the only ones left.

I find it strange that we do not need verbal instructions or physical gestures to guide us. As a single, collective, one, we move. All around me, I see shambling figures, some hulking, some crawling. We all have difficulty walking sometimes, but I guess we find ways of circumventing any obstacles to our mobility.

I do not know where we are headed, though. I try to voice out my question, but proper speech fails me, even though my thought processes seem to be in working order. My tongue dangles limply, no doubt from the lack of use.

It was a while ago that I awoke to the cries of humanity, in the dark, dank niche from which I had been laid. Clawing my way up, chaos was rampant. People running about. Rabid screams cut short. I saw lives taken down, some literally torn apart. I was even horrified at first, before the hunger took over.

We reach the ocean. I hesitate, as I recall my fear of the water. I remember falling overboard, sinking, the harsh pain as the water filled my lungs, and finally relief, heralding the silent, overbearing darkness that stretched to what felt like an eternity.

The one closest to me notices my reluctance, and turns to look at me. A face, necrotized, perhaps in the final stages of decomposition, stares at me vaguely with eyes already filmed over, before turning back to the water.

As we wade through the seas, towards the banks across, I see our current destination, its lights dimly emanating from its buildings. I think about that part of civilization yet untouched by the scourge we will soon become, and hear their panicked screams in the distance.

I look forward to the raw taste of their flesh once we reach their shores.

[I centerized it just 'cuz I wanna. xP]

And under 400 words, too! xD My past entries have been slightly below 1000 words, which isn't encouraged, since flash fiction is fiction short enough to be read in a flash, metaphorically speaking.

My mummy says I write like a white person. Yay!
[But yeah, like, she's my Mom, so yea... But she WAS an English teacher, though, and she's old. Teehee.]

Unfortunately (for me), when I first started entering these things, I guess I wasn't exactly ready to see my own name in print, so I dumped in a pseudonym. Hmph.