Mirror, Mirror

Written by Rob

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“Mirror, mirror on the wall, who is the fairest of them all?” Image // Walt Disney Studios

“Mirror, mirror on the wall, who is the fairest of them all?”
“Depends what you mean by “fairest”, love. Some folk mean ‘blonde’ when they say ‘fair’. Others mean ‘just’ or ‘sporting’ or ‘egalitarian’.”
“You’re a magic mirror: I’m consulting you about beauty. Am I not the most gorgeous creature in the world?”
“I think ‘creature’ is a mistake, to be honest, love. This is difficult enough without getting non-species specific.”
“All right! Am I the most beautiful woman in the world then?”
“Of course you are.”
“Why ‘of course’?”
“You own me. I’ve made a judgement that you want to be the most beautiful. Therefore, you are the most beautiful.”
“But am I really the most beautiful?”
“Well, I think so, of course, but these things are very subjective.”
“That’s not good enough. I want you to tell me that I’m really the most beautiful.”
“You’re really the most beautiful.”
“But would you still say that if I didn’t own you?”
“Of course.”
“But would you still say that if someone else owned you?”
“Yes.”
“But wouldn’t she, your new owner, I mean, wouldn’t she want you to say that she was the most beautiful?”
“Possibly.”
“So what would you say then?”
“Look love, I’m doing my best here. My job is to please. I don’t know what my new owner looks like. Isn’t it enough that you’re the most beautiful owner I know?”
“Am I not the only owner you know?”
“Well, strictly speaking, yes, but I think you’re beautiful.”
“What’s the point in having a magic mirror, if I can’t get a straight answer?”
“With respect love, you don’t want a straight answer.”

Armed with a half hour challenge, Rob penned this one in last year’s previous writing challenges. However, the sharp wit and comedic tone of the fairytale-inspired piece is certainly a great flash fiction story that had us in hysterics. And what a better way to conclude our month of dedication with a mirror that really only speaks one language – you really are the most beautiful woman (or man, we can’t be gender specific here!) in the world, love. If you enjoyed Rob’s HHC, why not check out some of his other writing with ‘Partridge‘ and ‘Angela’s Touch‘. 

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Mag News: The Inkwell’s Big Move And Our New Email Address

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My mouth is already in that half-watering saliva state. NOM. Image // Cybjorg

Hey Inkblotters,

We’ve got some pretty interesting news for our Inkblots readers and contributors, as well as some big changes happening over at our sister writing forum. But first, a quick update on content progression for the remainder of this year. As I’m currently acting as the sole editor for the magazine, with Lilith stepping in only occasionally as editor and mainly rummaging around behind the scenes, Inkblots content will be taking a break during September. But don’t worry, the break will only be for one month as I’m hoping to be scoffing my face full of local Belgium waffles for at least one week during the month.

Our next update is a pretty important one – our email address has changed! Yes, instead of contacting us at the long-ish creative writing email you’ve got stored in your inbox, you can now contact us at theinkwellwriting@gmail.com. All of the necessary pages have been updated, including the Submissions page and contact forum. We’ll be emailing all our external Inkblots contributors and forum writers our email address change, so no need to panic if you’ve just sent us an email to our old address.

Given our change in email address, we’ve also had some changes to our sister site, The Inkwell. We decided to purchase a domain name and instead of the long-ish (again) name that came with the forum, it’s now simply theinkwellwriting.com. If you’ve got the old one bookmarked, don’t fret as it does piggyback onto our new domain name. We’re still sorting the kinks out, but it’s all lovely and a PROPER writing forum. Hurrah!

Also, I’ll just quickly mention that the Fiction Frenzy is still happening until the end of August. If you wish to get an entry into us, we accept all external Inkblots contributor FF entries through email. Check out our newly updated submissions page for all the rules / guidelines.

Hope you’re having a scorcher of a Sunday. 🙂

– Silver, ‘Blots Editor

This Is Not An Eloquent Post

Written by Rivers of Tarmac

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This isn’t eloquent either. Image // CC EVA Foam Numbers

This is not an eloquent post. This is not a grand speech. This is not an important issue. This is not huge. This is not special. But this is real.

This is me, more or less. Sometimes more, often less. I am living and I am breathing. My heart is beating my cells are dying. My hair is growing, my nails are growing. My wisdom teeth are coming through. I am a human being. I eat and sleep and blog, though not always in that order. I laugh and cry. I hide in dark rooms with the blankets over my head. I scream into pillows and scratch myself. I read books and draw pictures. I send long meaningful texts and get “k” in reply. I tell terrible jokes. I cheat at monopoly and argue with my siblings. I offer condolences and tea when things go wrong. I fail to use correct grammar. I make mistakes. I lose things. I lose people.

I quote song lyrics at everyone; all of the time. I make people cry.

I fall in love.

Numbers are important. The time, the date. The bus service. The number of sunsets I’ve seen. The number of years I’ve survived. The number of the scales and the number of kisses on a text. The number of friends and the number of miles. The number of scars. The number of mistakes. The difference between one and two. The difference between one and two million. The number of people on the planet. The number of people who can make my day with a glance. The number of times I’ve smiled.

This is me and I am you. You understand me and you understand numbers. You understand science and you understand maths. You understand poets and musicians, artists both. You understand scars. You understand rivers and mountains and trees. You understand beggars and you understand kings. You understand me. We understand each other. We do not understand love, or life, or the universe.

The universe is huge. Quasars are huge and numbers are huge and galaxies are huge. And love, laughter, fear, and tears are all huge. We are huge. We are stars. We are the stars and the smiles, the laughter and the regrets, and the pain and the kisses, the butterflies too. We are real.

This is not an eloquent post. This is nothing at all. This is an idea. This is you. This is us. This is me.

And I am, irrevocably, alive.

Rivers’ stream of consciousness writing is seen as a dedication to life. She makes use of a specific technique here and it’s incredibly poignant to bringing out the most in her words. In her narrative, she begins small and speaks of the insignificant things that won’t change the grand course of the universe. But then her thoughts get larger and they begin to encompass the entire world in one small chunk. Running out of built-up steam in the end and closing at the correct moment. We love it. If you enjoyed Rivers’ piece, make sure you check out ‘A Boy Who Fell In Love‘. 

I Walk These Streets

Written by Fuzzyears

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It’s a hard slog, at times. Image // Momper Mountainous Landscape (Commons)

I walk these streets most everyday
And all the people look the same
In a world filled with rage
Show me anger
Fierce fists clutching onto air

Well they cut me down and threw me out
‘Cause I didn’t fit in with their crowds
Well they cut me up and left me scarred
On the fringes of my sanity
How could you shelter me out?

This war doesn’t determine who’s right
This war just determines who’s left standing tonight
So place your bets
Place your bets
Cause through my eyes you reap what you sow

On a mountain I sit
Not of gold but of sin
Through the blood I can learn
And on my face is a map of the world

Don’t tell me it doesn’t matter
I’ll tell you what, what matters

Fuzzyears’s song lyrics are a mish-mash of a 30 Seconds to Mars, Globus and Woe is Me song. She says she was inspired to take the idea from her two friends, who had taken different lines from poetry in order to mould a new poem, and did the same with song lyrics. It’s an interesting idea that we’d life to see more of at Inkblots, particularly if you’re lacking in inspiration. Let us know if you enjoyed new contributor Fuzzyears’s lyrical ensemble by leaving a like or comment below. 

Fetish

Written by Miss Smiley


We don’t usually use videos in our ‘Blots posts but this one is far too cute not to share! All credit goes to Chuck Scott.

 

It’s not like I can really help it. There’s something about completing one of my sneaky little jobs with perfection that makes me shiver with pleasure. It ticks all the boxes.

I stand back, sweating, to admire my handiwork. A perfect job. I grin, satisfied. Look at that finish…

What makes it more satisfying is the silent nature of this particular job. All the bandsaws and the sander I would usually use had to be substituted for stealth mode tools, like files, sandpaper and manual saws. This was the first time I’d done it at night, when they were at home, sleeping.

The pre-dawn light of morning filtered through the windows of the upper floor. Time was now of the essence. In a matter of minutes, the wake-up alarm would go off. That meant it would be roughly half an hour before the owner would be up. Probably just enough time to move this all out of the surrounding areas.

Grinning, I opened the front door and negotiated the flight of stairs through the door.

What a night!

Written as part of the Half Hour Challenge theme ‘Taking Flight’, Miss Smiley’s flash fiction certainly makes us chuckle. Taking the theme in its literal sense, our lovely contributor is a sneaky writer, but that’s why we love her work. If you also enjoyed Miss Smiley’s HHC, you can check out some of her other pieces such as, ‘Inheritance‘ and ‘The Laurel‘. 

The Art of Swordplay

Written by Eruantien

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A longsword match between two men. Image // Fechtbücher (Commons)

“I’ll draw them,” murmured Garidth to Kurvello. “You lead the others further in.”

“Take the heat off you when they realise we’re already inside the keep?”

“Would be nice,” Garidth nodded to his brother and the others, and strode out of the undergrowth to the front of the gate house. Lowering his buffe to reveal his face, the young knight raised his longsword and his voice: “All glory to the true lord of Janakholm, Kurvello Karvelson! Let any who deny his claim come forth now and challenge me, Sir Garidth of Corlyn; or hide forever behind the skirts of your mothers, like that snivelling boy who calls himself lord!”

Two came forth and Garidth could see a third hovering in the gateway, only half armoured. The other two – wearing maille and open-faced helms – drew their swords and closed on Garidth. Garidth couldn’t help but smile as the words of his old tutor echoed in his ears, “if someone attacks you with his blade in a standard grip when you are in full plate, then he knows nothing of the True Art”. His blood singing, Garidth launched his attack, thrusting hard at the one to his left, but the man’s sword came up in time to glance the thrust to the side. Against the Hämähäkkan’s expectations, Garidth continued his push and quickly whipped his steel-clad left fist forwards in a straight jab, smashing into his opponent’s face. Already turning as the stunned man stumbled back, Garidth blocked the second soldier’s overhand strike with his right vambrace. Garidth couldn’t help but let out a grunt of discomfort as the heavy sword bit into the steel, but before the Hämähäkkan could recover his guard, he swung his blade towards himself and caught it in his left hand. Without pausing, he slammed the pommel into the bridge of his opponent’s nose and fractured his skull. The man dropped. His first opponent began to gather his wits a moment too late as Garidth’s sword got behind his knee and took his feet from under him. Garidth immediately thrust his blade down, two-handed, at the maille protecting the man’s throat. Steel rings split beneath the blade’s tip. Garidth paused for a moment to catch his breath, and withdrew his sword as the third member of the gatehouse came out.

Garidth eyed this new combatant; clad in brigandine, the way in which he held himself was different from the other two Hämähäkkans he’d fought. Unlike the others, this one had adopted a half-sword stance and had solid plates on his arms and legs complimenting the brigandine and visored helm. Garidth found himself suddenly wishing that he hadn’t lowered his buffe earlier; there was no time to secure it back in place now.

Blood dripped from the tip of Garidth’s longsword as he gripped it halfway down the blade. Continue reading →

Knight

Written by Ashcloud

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We all need a little protection in our lives, even if it’s hidden.

Close the bond between two souls,
Has flourished underneath the sun,
In stained glass caverns, stories made,
Vanquished now the pressing tonne.
A friendship great for eternity,
Laughter the music of precious memory,
Remember to look closely and you will find,
Your true design, your soul, your mind.

 

A short but nevertheless sweet homage poem from Ashcloud. Dedicated to a close friend of hers, Ashcloud says it’s for one “who deserves so much, but asks for so little”. We particularly admired her use of imagery here to reminisce of past times and children’s fantasy stories, stealing us from our slumber to keep us wide-eyed and wondering. An elegant and simple tribute to her friend. If you liked Ashcloud’s poetry, feel free to take a look at “One Day at a Time” – a poem for school leavers.