2020 minus 58: portfolio and vaginate

Posted: 4 November 2019 in 2020 minus, fast fiction, fiction, writing
Tags: , , , ,

As mentioned elsewhere, I’ve had some serious tech problems, and I’m not feeling spectacularly brilliant at the moment, so I’m gong to beg your indulgence this week and turn the next few days over solely to ‘fiction from the vaults’.

Thanks for bearing with me…


A decade and a half ago, I threw out a challenge. and then repeated it thereafter whenever I felt like it. The challenge was the same in each case:

Give me a title of up to four words in length, together with a single word you want me to include in the tale, and I will write a story of exactly 200 words.

That’s it. The stories that resulted always included the word, they always fitted the title, but usually in ways the challenger hadn’t anticipated. And they were always exactly 200 words in length.

Here are two of the odder stories I wrote, very early on in the project, both from late 2005. I was still figuring out how far I could push each genre, and just generally having a blast writing them. I think it shows.


Title: Just Another Symbolist, Detective
Word: portfolio
Challenger: Chris Siddall
Length: 200 words exactly

I looked around the murder room with new eyes, trying to spot what seemed out of place.

When I’d first come into the room, what had hit me immediately was the uniformity of colour. The choices had obviously been deliberately picked, all specific shades of red, the blood of the victim perfectly complementing the various daubs of scarlet, crimson, vermilion and burgundy.

The strange dripping symbols on the wall, smears of dark ruby against the faint cream background of the wallpaper, also told much to the onlooker, as long as he knew what he was looking at.

I opened the portfolio and checked again. Yes, they were all as expected, and matched the symbols found at other recent murders. On the opposite wall, however, those symbols matched not the recent killings but one committed over a decade ago, a murder that had never previously been associated with the three local deaths.

I examined the pentangle, carved into the victim with a knife left at the scene of the crime.

That was what seemed out of place. I knew I’d missed something!

I reached into my pocket and pulled out the knife. I placed it carefully by his side, and left.

© Lee Barnett, 2005


Title: Vary Gates
Word: vaginate
Challenger: [Livejournal]
Length: 200 words exactly

The hero looked at his leather folder. He unfastened it and took out the vaginate paper: The Sheet, an heirloom that contained The Riddle of The Quest. The Sheet had been handed down from father to son over many, many generations, each succeeding scion of The Realm attempting to prove his inherent worth to others by solving the puzzle.

He had fought his way past the Montoom of Mallaby, had conquered the Dranagie of The Depths and had not once questioned the coincidence of alliteration that tended to accompany such quests.

He had slowly and carefully walked down the well trodden path surrounded by large trees and had found himself in an area of beauty marred only by three doors, gates really, each one decorated: the first seemed to be covered in tools, another beautified by every known type of jewellery, and the third had drawn upon it jars of every shape and size.

The hero read from The Sheet: “When is a door not a door?

After a while, when the tears had stopped, like his father before him, and his father before him, he returned home, defeated.

The hero’s family were, it had to be admitted, exceedingly stupid.

© Lee Barnett, 2005


 
 
More of ‘the same’ tomorrow…

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