Fic: Eye of the Beholder

Repost of #writingwednesday, dialogue only ficlet from 2018.

L M Dee

eyebehold

Summary: One person’s art is another person’s rubbish.
Previously posted to a personal journal for the 30 days of fiction meme prompt #5 write a scene entirely in dialogue

“It’s a very interesting piece.”

“Interesting? How?”

“Well…it’s symbolic. Probably.”

“Of?”

“I don’t know. Stuff. Things that other things are symbolic of.”

“Oh, that’s deep. Unlike the colours.”

“It’s a watercolour. That’s actually a more difficult medium than oils, you know.”

“Incredibly difficult by the look of this.”

“It’s…abstract.”

“Putting it mildly.”

“I mean that it has few connotations beyond what you, as the viewer, bring to it. It allows you to form your own opinion on the piece and any themes within it.”

“I see. I have an opinion.”

“Yes?”

“It looks like a four year old painted it and then the cat piddled on it.”

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Drabble: An Evening Stroll

Reblog for Flashback April.

L M Dee

 fic: an evening stroll>

Title: An Evening Stroll
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 100
Content Notes: No standard warnings apply.

I leap atop the fence and stalk my way across the narrow beams, graceful as an Olympic gymnast. The moon lights my way, but I see perfectly well in the dark. I stretch and drop soundlessly to the ground.

I pad around my territory, damp grass brushing my whiskers and wetting my paws. The evening’s scents tickle my nose. Eager to taste the aromas I open my mouth in what looks like a smile.

A moth flutters past. I chase it, partly for fun, mostly from instinct. It gets away. I yawn, languidly. I didn’t want to catch it anyway.

-/-/-

Notes:

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3 setence fic: Mr Wrong and Maybe Mr Right

animal cute kitten cat
Photo by Skitterphoto on Pexels.com

When Mike yelled at her, “Stop hugging that damn cat, it’ll never love you like I do!” while she held Cinnamon close and kissed his nose, his purrs reverberating against her chest, he sealed his fate.

Anyone that jealous of her affection, anyone that hateful towards Cinnamon, wasn’t someone she could trust or love, definitely a Mr Wrong.

When Ben first came to her house and greeted Cinnamon with a smile, and Cinnamon pawed at him, wanting to be picked up, she smiled as Ben scooped up the cat and cooed at him; this one might be Mr Right.

 

3 sentence fic: Monsters

“I only kill monsters,” the Hunter says, refusing the handful of pennies the young girl in the faded dress is clutching.
Her eyes fill with tears and she persists that surely the reason he’s come to her village is to help her, reiterates that Mother’s new man is a monster, that he’s hurting Mother, that her eye is blackened and there are bruises on her neck like he was trying to choke her soul from her.
“I only kill monsters,” the Hunter repeats with a sigh as he walks away, but this much is true: neither he nor Mother’s new man were ever seen in the village again.

3 sentence fic: Milo

 

woman sleeping
Photo by Ivan Oboleninov on Pexels.com

He prowled silently across the room to where she slept, his black coat rendering him almost invisible in the darkened room.

He paused a moment, assessing his target, before he leapt onto her.

“Milo,” she murmured as he pressed into the crook of her legs, happily tucked himself up behind her knees, and began to purr.