My Fiction Writing Collection - Steemit Exclusives

in #fiction6 years ago (edited)

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Over my time here at Steemit my focus has tended more towards writing fiction, and exploring the concept of writing in general. It didn't start that way, probably due to a lack of focus, and just taking my time to get a sense of this new forum. I have written quite a few stories now, both short stories, and novel length (well actually one novel length, and that one will be getting revised and taken through a second draft in the new year. There were a couple of other starts that lost there way and need my attention again.)

The purpose of this post is to collect a link for all the works of fiction that I have completed and am happy to continue to share and seek both old and new readers. As such these links are all to the short stories that I have done over my time here.

Thank you to those who have supported me along this journey, and look forward to continuing with you into the future. If you haven't read any of these, then I would consider a great honour if you do take the time to follow up on any of them.



Bang Bang You're Dead

Death has a way of following me. I guess it's the line of work that I'm in. Sometimes I think that Death and I are playing on the same team. I guess it's safer than playing for the opposition. Today was the day I finally learnt just how true that was.



I Have No Name and I Must Scream

"Welcome to planet Earth," the proud father said as he gazed upon his new born child. He looked at his wife, and wondered at the ordeal she had been through. He knew he had no idea of the magnitude of her struggle, and wasn't going to begin patronising her about it. He just quietly thanked the gods that both mother and son were alive, and healthy. "It's not the same planet we knew when we were his age. So much has changed." He handed his son back to his wife to hold and continue bonding.



The Last Book Store

It was called 'The Last Book Store' as a kind of inside joke. A juxtaposition to the true state of affairs. An ironic reference lost on the vast majority of people who ever heard the name. Yet most people never heard it's name mentioned. They never had need to know of its existence. Most people didn't know what books were.



The Judge

The large warehouse was mostly empty, except for the table and three chairs placed in the centre. Pillars of steel were located throughout the cavernous interior, their grey painted surfaces coldly matching the vast concrete floor that lead from wall to wall. It was a building designed to store enormous amounts of goods as they awaited sorting and delivery out into the world. Such a building also came in handy as a meeting place. A place where another type of business could be conducted.



The Man In The Mirror

It was the same view everyday. It had never changed. Not for Norman, anyway. He saw what he was shown, as it had been drilled into him from such a young age. When your other appears then make sure you are there. To greet him, so to speak. But mostly, to make sure he doesn't freak out. Imagine how your other would feel, having arrived to look at himself in the mirror, groggy from having just woken up, and still blurry eyed, and there was no reflection?



The End of the World [Part 1]

"There are sinners here, in our midst. Sinners around, I tell you. I can smell them, I can. The smell burns my nostrils, up into my brain. Twisting like a knife. Sinners will be found out. They always are." The Preacher Man was saying the same thing he said every Sunday. Something about sinners, and bad smells. I could never follow. I wanted to understand. It sounded like a foreign language to me. Hurt my ears as the words latched onto them and tried to reach my brain. Maybe if he said something different I would understand.

The End of the World [Part 2]

I had enough of the water. It was no longer calming me. It had brought strangeness into my life. And I still didn't know what a sinner looked like. Perhaps I never will. I went away from that place and stayed with a girl I knew. She used to be depressed. But she wasn't anymore. Except she didn't know that. Seems no one had told her. She allowed that black cloud to follow her around even though she was happy. She seemed happy to me. I wanted to tell her. I wanted to ask her how she did it? But I wasn't allowed.



The Locked Room

Life wasn't always so filled with darkness. It didn't always seem to be weighed down with the murky remnants of past broken thoughts. I still remember times when the presence of light was noticeable. When it could be seen streaming inside, into the interior, from the far reaches of the world outside. A moment in history when the ravages of entropy and disuse had not taken their toll. Such a world did exist. I recall it, not so much vividly, but in the recesses of my dreams. In the hidden places where the darkness has been kept in check. A place where a garden of hope and longing still grows within. Untouched by the disease of external brokenness.



The Gods of Love and War [Part 1]

She wasn't my first love. I had certainly had my fair share before her. Some memorable, some not so. And they probably felt the same way about me. But this felt different. This time I felt more alive. And more confused. The good and the bad; relationships have brought all these things and so much more to me. But I loved Emily. I know I did. In a self abusing kind of way I guess.

The Gods of Love and War [Part 2]

I was in no hurry to meet anyone after that. Why did I need to? Was I lonely? Or did I feel undefined without another? I'm not really sure. Human psychology bewilders me. That is why I had tried to define my life by the miracles of sex and alcohol. Except it didn't bring any definition to me. It blurred the edges, and helped me keep the monsters at bay. The bats of hell that squawk and swoon around me in the shadows as I contemplate the meaninglessness of my existence. And I hate feeling such meaninglessness. Such powerlessness. It's unmanly. But then so too is drinking vodka until I can't stand any more and collapsing into a pool of my own vomit.

The Gods of Love and War [Part 3]

Friends introduced me to Anna. Sweet, quiet Anna. She felt like my female equivalent. I'm not sure if that was a good thing or not. But it was a peaceful experience. A sense of balance and serenity returned to my life. She never pushed, nor poked. Her touch was tender, and her embrace reassuring. Some people can do that. It brought out a confidence in me. A confidence to allow such love to return to her in abundance. A love that had been buried deep inside, locked away for safe keeping. I didn't even know I had so much of it to share. Fear of vulnerability will do that to a man.



Crossroads

The breeze was cool as it gently made it's way passed Willie. He lifted his nose, sniffing the air. "Smells like death," he said. He had a nose for death. He could pick out the varied flavours delivered to him by the messengers. No one had a nose like Willie. Death's aroma knew his name. It spoke to him, and only him.



Heart's a Mess

The shadow spread out from the droplet of fear that had burst upon the floor. Angled and swirling out towards the edges of the room. Towards the four walls that circled Rosie, like wagons at dawn, pegging her into a cage that had become her life.



Blasphemous

I don't really remember when it all began. Probably when I was born. That's when all stories really begin, isn't it? Well not according to the Buddhists. But I'm no Buddhist and I don't believe in reincarnation. I don't need to believe in it – I'm living it. Which doesn't really affect my statement about beginnings. It just raises the question – which birth did it all begin with? Which lifetime am I referring to? Honestly, I have no idea. If I did I probably wouldn't be in this mess.



Jonathan and the Dance of the Leaves

The leaf twirled and danced as it made its way towards the ground. Shades of orange and red that caught the sun's light in glimpses filtered by the giant oak tree from which it fell. Branches hung gently overhead, creating a canopy that stretched out from the massive trunk. It was Jonathan's crown. He always had a sense of majesty when he lay beneath the giant branches, easing his way into the grooves left by the roots as they snaked their way out, pointing the way into the forest. He loved this tree and it's comforting presence. But he had never ventured further. Not once in the many months he had been visiting this spot. The forest beyond had remained a mystery.



It's So Easy

New body. Where am I? Vision is returning. Seems like the inside of a car. Am I driving? No, I am parked. Wait, we are parked. Beside me, passenger seat – hello lovely lady, who are you? You smell heavenly. Rose, jasmine. Subtle, yet sweet. And why do you look at me like that? Such confusion in your eyes.



Image used with permission, and thanks to unsplash.com.

Thank you for taking the time to read this. If you liked it then please like, comment, and follow.

@naquoya



Sort:  

I like your writing style! It is kind of poetic. Thanks for following me!

And thank you too. I appreciate your comment.

Thanks for your nice comment! Where are you from?

I'm from Australia, but in Europe at the moment.

Cool what do you do? Are you on FB?

Currently dealing with health issues, so I'm not working. As for FB, i do have an account, but I never use it these days. Are you on there?

Yeah I am...do online marketing. Hope you get better!

Is this a your portfolio or a hall of fame shrine for literature? I'm afraid I can't tell the difference. I've said it before and I'll say it even if I'm gone from Steemit, people are missing a huge chunk of their lives from not reading your posts.

I appreciate the compliment. A larger audience would be great (for many of us here), but I am not so good at working out how to achieve that. Marketing, or even socialising, isn't really my thing. Although I do try. Still, in the meantime I will continue to work on what I can do reasonably well - write.

WOW wonderful words!

Resteemed this. I'll definitely start working my way through these.

Thank you for the resteem, and for taking the time to look at these.

Hi @snowmachine, thanks for your cool comment. Just curious, what is an anti solipsist?

It's a term I made up. A solipsist is someone who believes that they are the only one who exists. Inspired by this: http://www.dictionaryofobscuresorrows.com/post/23536922667/sonder

Thanks For Sharing!

Oooooooohhhhh! I found it!

Woohoo. It was a good idea after all to collate all of these. :)

I love your fiction! I am looking forward to reading more. :)

I'm happy to hear that. And yes you were a regular supportive comment contributor to so many of these. I hope to have some more fiction to share in the near future.

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classical, pictures,i like it, poetry so nice

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