I know, I know! I haven’t posted in just about forever. This is because my computer died. It was an actual, real life, matter of fact tragedy. I spent the first few hours trying to remain calm and fantasising about the positives of being suddenly transported back to the pre-industrial age, but soon enough…
It was very sad.
Thankfully, I have wonderful parents and the best Vati who sorted me out, and I’m now computerised again. *phew* You should really visit his website and check out his awesome photos, by the way, if you haven’t already, and even if you have, because, did I mention, he’s the best Vati (and photographer) in the world?!
The point is, no computer = no time to post + massive backlog of things to get done = 27.
All the same, I’ve got some fun-ness to share: I wrote my first piece of flash! For those who don’t know, flash fiction is fiction with a very small word count, which, considering I’m about the least succinct person I know, is a concept that fills me with terror. However, the other day I was directed towards a little competition at J. Whitworth Hazzard’s blog, which involved writing an “unzombie” story in under 250 words for the chance to win a pack of zombie games! Of course I couldn’t resist, so I wrote a little piece and (YAY) my story got an honorable mention! It was so fun to write and now I’ve got hours of zombie game based procrastination to enjoy. Woohoo.
Anyway, do you want to read my piece of flash? I’ve even drawn a picture to illustrate the story, just for you.
The lunch Mum had packed lay strewn across the floor. I suppose it might have been appealing at some stage, but the banana was now browning and not even the biscuits looked tasty. I watched an ant crawl across a biscuit and wondered what we were going to do now. My stomach gurgled.
The carers hadn’t lasted long. Zombie babies are pretty fast and we finished the adults off within minutes of turning. A feasting frenzy ensued – body to baby, there was plenty to go around. And yet, “This is no Sunday school picnic!” Ralph had declared, or would have if he could speak. I knew what he meant, but had any adults been present (and alive), they probably would have heard “Gomnigah!”
“We don’t have time to lie around gorging ourselves on the flesh of our captors,” Ralph had continued. “Without the adults how will we escape?” He had a point. Stiff limbs aside, there was no way any of us could reach the door handle.
Amelia, the brightest of our pre-school group attempted to build a ramp out of blocks. It was an unbridled failure. Lego just wasn’t built for the needs of post-apocalyptic babies.
Half an hour later, we were all still sitting and staring at the door, contemplating that insurmountable distance between toddler and door handle.
I took a bite out of my finger. It tasted ok, I suppose – better than brown banana.
I know, it’s a bit disturbed. Mwhaha. As J. Whitworth Hazzard said, “Holly is one sick lady. And I say that with admiration and respect, of course. What kind of twisted mind thinks up problem-solving, self-cannibalizing, zombie babies? A creative one.” Aw! How sweet!
You can read the rest of the flash entries and awesome winners here!