For the first week of the Write-a-Thon, I completed a flash fiction story called “The Granddaughter of Night.” It’s a re-imagining of the Moirai from Greek Mythology set in a textile mill in the Appalachian foothills.
What I Write
Excerpt from the unpublished short story “The Bhikshuni Who Hitchhiked Infinity”:
I birth. I devour.
In the beginning, I am indefinable dust. I am here and everywhere. He is here and everywhere. Part of myself is spread over unimaginable distances in the black void. It is silent except for the distant softs bells of twinkling silver stars.
Gradually, over eons, a blink in the span of the ever-expanding void, we begin to attract each other’s selves. We are pulled from dispersion within each other’s essence by a force that becomes more terrible the more it pulls. I am mutable dust flying through the void, sighing as I part from his essence. We fling sweet kisses to each other as we pass. Each passing eon pulls us into our own new bodies. Cosmic dust merging into a burning core, fiery gas shot into the void. What once was apart is now one. We are birthing starry selves. A great wind is the blessing we send to each other. We revolve but never touch.
As we settle into our own, a song emerges, the song at the heart of all things. When I was disparate dust, I knew it was there. But now it’s a vibrating string drumming out a loud beat out into the ever-changing universe.
I begin to dance, a flaming foot caressing the black void in a sudden moment. Then I begin stomping, my feet sparking, long hair undone, flying loose in the solar wind blown across to all other stars. He then begins to dance with me. With a single foot down, he spirals his four flaming arms spreading star dust like petals from upturned hand. We are two burning bodies, twirling in an flaming circle, intertwined in a cosmic dance.
But I burn too fast, and he burns too greatly. Circling still, we caress each other with hydrogen kisses before I burn down low into cold gas. He burns brightly one last time, then becomes nothingness, devouring himself from within, a great maw sucking everything in its wake.
I become just a burnt body, passively carried by him as he circles the void at the heart of himself. Parts of by body, gas and dust, fall off into the void, stardust to be lapped up by a cosmic beast or to help birth green worlds. I circle the black maw, the pit of nothingness until all light is gone from my sight. I hear one last twinkling of a silver bell.
|What I Write||
After being furloughed from my day job as a video editor in March, I have been working on a mosaic fantasy novel inspired (loosely) by heroines in the The Odyssey and Metamorphoses and set (loosely) in a post-apocalyptic version of the Appalachian and Blue Ridge Mountains of West Virginia.
My Write-a-thon Goals
My plan is to complete one flash fiction piece a week set in my Appalachian Odyssey world (shooting for 1200-1500 words a week). I plan to use these stories as seeds to create my mosaic narratives novel or to later develop them into individual short stories for publication. My overarching goal for the six weeks is to develop a steady writing habit and to learn to sit with discomfort while working on a story.
Clarion West generously covered my fee for their online Mosaic Narrative workshop with Cadwell Turnbull. I’d like to return the favor for another emerging writer, so my goal is to raise $100 for Clarion West during the Write-a-Thon
For a $25 donation, you may pick a heroine or goddess from Greek mythology for me to focus on in my weekly flash fiction piece.