#ThursThreads Week 610 and 'The Mourningstar' continues.

 It's Thursday so that means #ThursThreads from Siobhan Muir's flash fiction contest. I should put more on this blog than my entries, but trying to post on here weekly is about what I can manage right now. It's just great to get into the habit of writing again, even if I don't actively write every day. Even on my off days, I still have these stories in my head and try to work out a section or concept, or just let an idea marinate to see what comes out of it. 

For some encouraging news, last week, I WON #ThursThreads with my latest segment of The Mourningstar. I had won ThursThreads once before, probably a decade ago or nearly so. Its nice to win again, and also makes me feel like I'm going somewhere in the right direction with this story. The comments from the judges really help too. I'm glad I came back.

So this story I've been pecking at - totally pantsing it (flying by the seat of my pants for anyone who isn't familiar with the term pantsing) instead of following an outline or even a suggestion of a story. I have been letting the prompts guide me. Thus far, they have led me to what I think is an engaging story. I haven't named my characters yet, and eventually I am going to have to name names as just using pronouns will get confusing if I add too many more characters. 

For now, I'm just enjoying the experience. The story hasn't been beta'ed or read by anyone else to polish for grammar or structure, so the whole thing is very raw. I do try to clean it up as I go, but any story is always better when someone else is able to look it over. I think once it's complete, I'll compile all the weeks together into one cohesive story and then fill in the blanks and add whatever is needed to make it come together. 

If you are curious about the other entries into #ThursThreads or want more information about it (or if you want to participate yourself), check out Siohban Muir's blog here.

 (for full disclosure, I did make a few tweaks to what I posted on #ThursThreads as once I looked it over, I wanted to fix a few things. I was running against the clock on getting my submission in and my entry was a little sloppier than what I would have preferred. So I cleaned it up before I posted it here)

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Today's prompt was "His cell phone vibrated" and my latest segment of The Mourningstar:

He barely reached the piano bench in time before as his knees buckled, saving him from landing on the glass and whisky strewn floor. He knuckled his eyes in disbelief then stared at his very alive wife through the glass of the balcony. When she had appeared before, he knew she was just a figment of his imagination, a manifestation of his grief. This was different. She seemed much more solid and real. Something was very different.

“How- Wha?” he choked, as he tried to gather his wits.

She pulled open the balcony door and stepped into the room as he stood on trembling legs. This wasn’t possible. He saw her dead body at the hospital. He saw the injuries that ultimately ended her life. He was the one that removed her wedding ring from her lifeless and cold finger.

“Hey baby.”

He never thought he’d hear her voice again. He knew it wasn’t possible. Hearing it now had to be some kind of sick joke put on by his Father.

“This can’t be real. You’re just a ghost like all the other times.”

He wanted her to be real. He so wanted her to be real-to have her back again in his arms.

She smiled softly as she took another step toward him. “It’s real. I’m real. I’m back.”

His cell phone vibrated from the other side of the room where he had thrown it. He ignored it.

“How? What did He do? What did He make you do?”

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The #Mourningstar drabbles are based on the Lucifer TV show. While my story is original and divergent from canon, I am playing in another creator's sandbox. 

#ThursThread - The Mourningstar

Today is Thursday, so it means an entry into Siobhan Muir's #ThursThreads weekly flash fiction contest. I'm continuing the story that I've been picking at and finally decided on the name. Instead of the Man in Mourning, I decided on The Mourningstar. It seems more catchy and more fitting. I also received another honorable mention last week with some really awesome comments from the judge. 

I also had some great conversations this week with a writer friend who had some great advice to help me with my writing. I find myself re-invigorated and looking at my writing in a different light then before - just looking at it differently and being able to make edits that the stories flow better and draw the reader in more. 

For the flash fiction contest, you can see all the other entries on Siobhan's blog here.

This week's prompt:

"She's missing."

And without any further ado - my entry for the week: 

    The preparations for her celebration of life continued around him. Calling it a celebration felt like a punch in the gut. He answered questions when they were posed to him robotically, barely remembering his responses as soon as he uttered them. Except when they asked about music. There would be no pre-recorded music played through speakers to fill the background noise. No, he would play one final time for his love.

     Alone again, he sat at his beloved Steinway and let the music flow through him as his hands swept up and down the keyboard. He played familiar songs, some of her favorites, then segued into something new but never to be heard again. The music discordant and melancholy echoing his emotions.

    His cell phone vibrated across the top of the piano, distracting him. He answered blindly, then stood abruptly, pushing the piano bench back with a screech. “What do you mean, she’s missing? How do you misplace a body?”

    The answer he received infuriated him more. “That’s my wife you lost, you incompetent imbecile! Find her!” He threw his phone across the room, not caring that it broke on impact.

    Pent up full of fury, he roughly grabbed his bottle of whisky. As he turned to the balcony, the decanter slipped from his fingers, shattering on the ground. The expensive Macallan splashed over his shoes and pantlegs, but he paid it no mind. 

    She was staring back at him from the other side of the balcony door.

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If you want to check out my previous entries into this story, read my prior blog entries for the past several weeks (basically ALL the blog posts for 2024).

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The #Mourningstar drabbles are based on the Lucifer TV show. While my story is original and divergent from canon, I am playing in another creator's sandbox. 

#ThursThread continues with the Man in Mourning

 So that's what I'm calling it for now. Not really sure what else to call it or where I am going with it. 

I received another honorable mention last week for last week's entry in ThursThreads. It is definitely helping encourage me to stay on the band wagon and keep writing. I am not always able to write every day but I try not to skip more than one day without writing something, even if its only for 15 minutes or a half hour. 

As always, you can learn more about the #ThursThreads flash fiction contest HERE. All of this week's entries will be found there. Sometime in the next 48 hours or so, the winner will be selected. 

This week's prompt was "So what do you suggest"

My entry: 

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    She slumped down into the soft leather of the couch in the living room as she watched her stepfather through the glass of the balcony. His tall frame was cowed in grief, rigid and radiating a cloud of despair that sucked the warmth out of the air around him. She had never seen him in such a state before.

    Her mom and stepfather had gone through a lot before they met and had gone through even more after. Perhaps that is what made their bond so strong – and her mother’s passing that much more painful. Her stepfather had lost his first and only love. She wasn’t sure if he’d ever get over it.

    She had never seen the kind bond that her mom and stepfather shared with anyone else. It was unique. It was more than just love or just marriage, but something deeper and stronger, like their souls were connected. It was scary how intertwined two people could be, how powerful their devotion to one another was, and the power that they held over one another. She wasn’t sure if she envied them such a connection or pitied them.

    Sometime later, her stepfather came back inside and went straight for the whiskey bottle sitting on the table. He poured a fresh glass for himself and one for her. Taking both in his hand, he joined her on the couch with sigh and handed her the other glass.

    “So what do you suggest we do now?” he asked quietly.

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The #Mourningstar drabbles are based on the Lucifer TV show. While my story is original and divergent from canon, I am playing in another creator's sandbox. 

Another Week's Entry to #ThursThreads and Other Musings...

    I came to a realization earlier this week while in a discussion on Discord that perhaps I'm trying to control my muse a little too much. I get so fixated on having an outline to write from to keep the story on pace and not veer off and jump the shark that I'm not allowing for happy accidents or true creativity. Most ideas that come to me, I know how they start and how I want it to end, and a few key moments in between, and perhaps that should be enough. I don't have to nail down every single thing between those moments and just let the word flow and see how the characters speak to me. 

    I'm going to try this new thought process on my current WIPs. I haven't actively written in a very long time, much to my shame, but I find my mind being full of ideas again. I may not go back to my old WIPs from ten years ago, but that's fine. It's all a part of the process. I'm glad to just be writing again. 

    My #ThursThread entries these past few weeks are starting to form a story, and has grabbed a hold of me. There is no outline, no character sketches, none of the typical preparations I do. This is 100% pants-ing, flying by the seat of my pants, writing. Last week's entry to #ThursThreads won honorable mention! That was a great source of encouragement for me that my creativity and my muse haven't completely gone away. 

    If you haven't seen my previous entries, you can check them out here on this blog or on the #ThursThread blog. I don't have a name for this collection of drabbles yet. It's angsty, that's all I have so far. 

This week's #ThursThreads prompt is "I don't need answers."

My entry: 

    He tried to get into a new routine, but everything reminded him of her. Their lives had become so intertwined that there wasn’t a facet of his life that she wasn’t a part of in some way. He never minded it, he relished it. He had been alone for so long before they met that having her in his life, in every aspect, was a novelty that he never ever got tired of having.

    Now that it was gone. If he thought his loneliness was bad before they met, it was so much worse now. Now he knew what it was like to be loved, truly loved and to love in return. A soulmate. And now he knew what it was like to lose it.

    He sighed.

    She found him standing on the balcony nursing his usual glass of whisky. Her daughter. His stepdaughter. Home from college for the summer. She looked too much like her. It was painful. Her eyes red-rimmed and sad looking as she gazed at him. He knew she was hurting too. He wanted to comfort her, but his grief was so all-encompassing he found it nearly impossible to reach out to anyone. Especially her. He was a shit stepparent.

    “The final reports from the accident came in,” she offered quietly.

    “I-I don’t need answers.” His voice caught as he spoke. The first words he had spoken aloud in days. “Nothing will change what has happened. Nothing will bring your mom back.”

               

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The #Mourningstar drabbles are based on the Lucifer TV show. While my story is original and divergent from canon, I am playing in another creator's sandbox. 

Two weeks in a row - yay me! 

Taking a stab at #ThursThreads again and I felt drawn back to the snip I started last week with the man in mourning. Last week's prompt and this week's seemed to play nicely together. Not sure if this will eventually become something or not, but just getting the words out as they come. 

All of the entries to #ThursThreads can be found here: ThursThreads

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My entry:

Their penthouse held too many memories, so he stayed away. Without her there, the dwelling was lifeless shell of where they had built their life together. He couldn’t even call it a home anymore. His home died the day she did.

Standing on the balcony of his Hills property where they would often go to get away from the city was no different. It felt cold and lifeless, despite the warm California sun. His only company was her ghost, always lingering near him but never making a sound. Her voice, her touch, all memories now. At least he had an eidetic memory so he wouldn’t forget a single moment he had with her.

“It’s quiet here,” he said to her. “Too quiet.”

She nodded but said nothing.

“What I would do to hear your voice again, your touch.”

Her ghost looked at him sadly but made no move to try to touch him. Like it would matter anyway. She was just a figment of his imagination, his grief manifesting.

His cell phone buzzed in his pocket. He ignored it, like he had all of the other calls and texts from his friends -their friends. They were concerned, but he was beyond caring. There wasn’t anything any of them could do. She was gone. He hadn’t talked to anyone since her funeral, unless shouting at God counted. Not that even doing that mattered, since he knew God wasn’t listening. God hadn’t listened for a long time. Why start now?

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Find me on Twitter/X or whatever it's called this week: @mlgammella

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The #Mourningstar drabbles are based on the Lucifer TV show. While my story is original and divergent from canon, I am playing in another creator's sandbox. 

Hey Look, I'm Back

Well... it has been some time since I've graced my own blog, but even after a hiatus, it's like riding a bike - you just hop back on and start peddling.

I was able to submit an entry into this week's #ThursThread for the first time since December of 2019. Let's hope my next entry isn't four and a half years from now. The blogpost and all of the other entries can be found here: https://siobhanmuir.com/thursthreads-tying-tales-together-week-605/

For those unfamiliar with this particular flash contest, you are given a prompt and a word count to craft something new. It can be from a current WIP or just something that pops in your mind. I went with something new. 

My entry is below:

The Prompt: 

"I don’t really know how.” 

Word count 100-250 words

It was a beautiful day in Los Angeles, for all that he noticed. The warm ocean breeze ruffled his hair as he stood lost in his thoughts. It could be Hell on Earth and he would remain unmoved. Instead, his focus was on the wedding band he held in his fingers. The delicate platinum band matched the larger one he wore on his ring finger of his left hand. The ring he never ever expected to have to remove from his dead wife’s hand.

“I don’t really know how to do this alone,” he said to her, her ghost in his mind standing next to him.

She smiled sadly but didn’t say anything. How could she? She was a figment of his imagination.

“I never knew how to truly live until you came into my life. How can I go on living now without you?”

His body shook as he tried to contain the despair that ravaged him down to his soul. He fell to his knees, the sand of the beach cushioning his landing.

“Why?” he screamed up to the heavens. “Why her?”

His shouts garnered some odd looks from nearby beachgoers, but even they seemed to pick up on his pain and didn’t disturb him.

“Why did it have to be you?” he asked her ghost.

She knelt next to him but remained silent. If she had the answers, she wasn’t divulging them.

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The #Mourningstar drabbles are based on the Lucifer TV show. While my story is original and divergent from canon, I am playing in another creator's sandbox. 

NaNoWriMo 2019

Yes, I'm doing it. I don't know what I'll be doing, but I'm going to be doing it. The ultimate pantsing.

If you care to follow in the insanity, come follow me and we can motivate one another. :)