Category / Half Hour Challenge

by Colette

June Editorial – The Many Faces of Betrayal

Hey Inkblotters!

Wow, we’re halfway through 2015 and I still can’t quite believe it. I’m craving the heat of the summer sunshine, too, as it’s only arriving in fits and starts here in the UK. With the beginning of June, the festival season kicks off once again, children can’t wait until school’s out, and parents are a bit concerned as to how they’ll keep their offspring occupied throughout the summer. It’s a slightly busier time for me, as I not only have a number of work events and exhibitions to attend, but also the biggest gaming event of the year springs up, namely E3. But don’t worry, Inkblots will continue to bring you fresh content this month.

And speaking of which, last month we had some fantastic poetry and short fiction, and it continues into June under a new theme, Betrayal. Yes, it has many faces, often hiding the truth under our feet. But it’s also a great theme to explore. Veteran forum member Sparky takes June’s first slot on the 5th with his short story, while on the 10th we have beautiful poetry from Kvothe. Later, we have a special two-part fictional piece from Rob and a superb poem from new contributor Awokunle Toyin Sheriff on the 30th. Of course, that’s not all the content we have planned, so make sure you pop back during the month to view the latest work.

As per, the Half Hour Challenge theme for June works in conjunction with our current content theme for the magazine. So to inspire our fellow writers, we’re asking you to pen a short story, lyrics or poetry with Poison in mind. Perhaps you think of a plant, or maybe it’s the famous Alice Cooper song. But whatever your inspiration is, we hope to see some fantastic entries emailed over to us. Check our submissions page for all the necessary details. And before I forget, Inkblots is bringing back the FICTION FRENZY starting from July 1 until August 31 once again. More details will come in July’s editorial.

But for now, it’s time for me to wrap this post up, so have a lovely June and keep writing!

– Colette, Inkblots Editor

Featured Image CC // Aasif Iqbal

by Colette

Prologue from Aes: Book 0.1 – The Blaze

Written by Rae-Chan

Blazing flames sent shadows dancing around the buildings, the sounds of people’s screams mixing with the noise of gunshots. Freya Park cowered behind her mother, clinging onto her older brother Jun, eyes tight shut, tears leaking out from under her eyelids, and coughing from the smoke that was making its way through the shirt Jun had pressed over her mouth.

Jun was doing his best to hold his breath, he only had one shirt to use as a gas mask and he was much more focused on keeping his little sister safe than himself. He was crouched low where the smoke wasn’t as thick, feeling light-headed as he took shallow breaths, black spots starting to appear before his eyes.

“Jun, take your sister and run,” whispered Kanya Park, stepping away from her children and walking towards the front door.

“Mum, don’t!” Jun cried, immediately his lungs burned as he lifted his head, letting smoke into his lungs.

Jun could hardly see anything anymore, the smoke that was flooding the room already starting to swallow up his mother. He held Freya close to his chest as he choked on the acrid air, her small little hands clinging onto him for dear life.

“Take Freya and run,” Kanya repeated, looking back to offer her son a teary-eyed smile.

Tears spilled from Jun’s own eyes as he bit his lip, pulled Freya closer, and rose just enough to be able to move. Freya whimpered against his body as he sprinted out the back door. He ran as fast as he could, dodging the flames that were quickly spreading from house to house. He heard a gunshot from close by and felt his heart skip a beat. He knew what that gunshot meant.

The noise startled Freya and she buried her face into her brother’s shoulder, sobbing uncontrollably.

“It’s alright, Freya,” Jun lied, trying to stop his sister from hearing the tears in his voice. “It’s alright.”

Rae-Chan’s gripping prologue from her upcoming Aes series was written on behalf of the Half Hour Challenge in January. Focusing on a traumatic beginning, the prologue simply titled “The Blaze” is a great reflection on strength and how it affects characters both physically and mentally. And as such, it’s fantastic work to close our strength-themed content on this month. If you enjoyed Rae-Chan’s prologue, feel free to view her additional published pieces, including “Remembering War” and “Ignite”. 

Featured Image CC // Kaibab National Forest

by Colette

Man’s Salvation

Written by Rob

Popular wisdom says one should never discuss religion or politics with a friend. Jed and Mark were definitely not friends and threw insults at each other, across the office, all day, every day. It had all started as a theological discussion but no one could remember when. Little Mark was a devout Catholic, and incapable of allowing any opportunity to profess his faith pass unfulfilled. Jed Smith, built like a brick house, loathed all things religious with a burning passion. These were two minds that could never meet, nor indeed agree to disagree. So the status quo was protracted jibes at each other’s beliefs, whilst their colleagues laughed and pointed. No one seemed to mind as this sideshow eased the dreary days of accounting practice.

When Arthur – the company secretary – retired, they all went out for a beer. A dozen employees commandeered an alcove of the pub and swapped anecdotes of Arthur’s peccadilloes from forty years’ service; all good-natured banter. It was getting late when Mark overheard two lads outside their circle discussing crucifixion in a not too reverent manner. Off like a lurcher, Mark was out of his chair, citing blasphemy laws, quoting gospel chapter and verse, wagging his finger. The lads were clearly taken aback. Mark returned to the group, looking smug, but saying it was probably time to “call it a night”.

Mark said his goodbyes, shook Arthur’s hand and ambled out of the front door. Jed noticed one of the lads nudge the other and follow. Jed couldn’t have told you why, but something in their demeanour had the hairs on his neck erect. On instinct, he followed, too.

Outside, Jed looked up and down the High Street: no sign of Mark or the lads. Then a noise, maybe a muffled voice, drew him to the alley at the side of the pub. Pinned against the wall, little Mark looked up terrified into the faces of his tormentors.
It was all over in seconds. The lads looked up at Jed’s challenge, saw his huge frame nigh-on blocking the light from the High Street, and took to their heels.

Monday morning, to an outsider in the accounts office, nothing had changed. Jed and Mark still belittled each other’s beliefs at every opportunity. But the passion and hurtful edge had gone, replaced by a “this is just a game” undercurrent, a performance for the benefit of the onlookers.

Inspired and written on behalf of May’s half hour challenge theme ‘Salvation’, Rob’s flash fiction hits the point hard. Though religion may come between many people, sometimes it’s refreshing to get a different opinion and have an open mind. And sometimes it can make the difference between a friend and a foe. If you enjoyed Rob’s HHC, make sure to view his other great pieces such as, “Ending at the Start” and “Coach”. 

Featured Image CC // Fusky

by Colette

May Editorial – Lending Strength & Salvation to those in Need

Hey Inkblotters,

With the recent earthquake crisis in Nepal, it appears mother nature isn’t quite on our side over the past few months. Although I’ve personally witnessed an earthquake having been close to the epicentre, it was nothing compared to the 7.8 magnitude in Nepal. It’s still a scary experience, however, and feeling the earth and the foundations of your own house move beneath you is something equally terrifying and incredible. But for those that lost their lives in the tragedy, a little strength and salvation is needed, especially for many left without family and in desperate need of aid. If you would like to donate to the appeal, you can do so over at PayPal.

So with the warmest thoughts being sent out to those in need, our content for May reflects strength of all kinds. This month we begin with Rob’s half hour challenge entry on the 5th, following up with Miss Smiley’s beautiful lyrical ensemble “Hold My Hand” on the 10th. We also have some absolutely wonderful poetry from returning contributors Ashcloud with “Waterworks” on the 20th, and two from Katie Allen on the 25th featured in our Poetry Spotlight. As usual, we also have a few surprises popped in for good measure.

In keeping with our content theme, the half hour challenge hopes to inspire and give Salvation to many. Sometimes all we need is a little dash of hope to carry us through the day. If you’d like to send us your HHC entry for May, all the important details can be found on our submissions page.

And with that, have a lovely May and enjoy the rest of the Bank Holiday weekend.

– Colette, Inkblots Editor

Featured Image CC // Slalit

by Colette

For Loved Ones

Written by Terrestris Veritas

“I’ve never taken on a job like this before,” Sandy said as she stepped over the threshold. “Are you sure I’ll be able to handle it?”

Igor smiled, closed the front door after her and gestured down the hallway. “I’m sure you’ll be just fine,” he assured her, eyes twinkling. “The kids are quite good and excited to see you. I’ve barely been able to contain them.”

Sandy smiled back, the worry fading from her mind. “They must be a delight to have around the place.” She pushed open the kitchen door. “This is quite a nice house as well. What did you say your job was again?” She turned to face him but before she could she heard a muffled thud and collapsed without a sound.

**

Igor opened the door to his kids’ room. “Lucy, Chase!” he called as he entered.

The twins were sitting on their beds on opposite sides of the room. Both were slight of stature and dressed in casual clothes. They were sitting cross-legged facing each other, staring the opposing twin down, as if they were opponents. Lucy was dark of eye with straight, black hair to match, while Chase had bright, blonde hair with piercing, electric-blue eyes. Both snapped their gazes to Igor.

In an instant, Lucy was by his side, hugging him fiercely. Chase came slower, he always was slower than his sister, but hugged his father with just as much warmth. Lucy let go and took a step back. “Daddy, you were gone for ages!” she rallied, stamping her foot in fake anger.
Igor tousled her hair, “I’m sorry darling. I was getting some work done. But I’m here now.” He smiled as she did.

Chase spoke. “Daddy, can we go back to Mensington? I miss our old home.”

Igor shook his head sadly. “I’m sorry son, but you and your sister burnt the town down, remember. There’s nothing left.”

“But you can build it again, can’t you Daddy?”

“Of course it can be built again. But it takes time. Now my children,” he said, taking their hands, “there is someone I want you to meet.”

Lucy started jumping up and down, her hair blurring from the motion. “You brought us someone to play with?” she squealed.

Chase smiled widely, ever the calm one. “Did you really Daddy?”

Igor nodded. “I did. Her name’s Sandy. She’s in the box room, waiting for you. She’s your new playmate. Why don’t you go play with her?”

Both the twins hugged him again. “Thank you Daddy!” they chorused in unison. Lucy’s eyes had grown darker, gaining a red tint, while Chase’s had grown all the more brighter with excitement. They rushed from the room, eager to meet their new friend.

Igor sat on Chase’s bed, hunched over, elbows on knees and head in hands. He was dreading the time when the children came back. He would have to bathe them, bed them and wash their clothes. He knew then he’d have to clean the box room from top to bottom, removing all the blood and get rid of what remained of dear Sandy. And in a few days he’d show someone new into the house, a new friend, a new playmate. The twins just wanted to play with people, so he made sure they had someone to play with. If he didn’t, they would get angry. But the other reason was far simpler – they were his children, and a good father wants his children to be happy. In whatever way he must and at whatever the cost.

Terribly dark and creepy, with just a touch sweetness – a perfect summary for Terrestris Veritas’s fictional work. Written on behalf of February’s HHC, Fanning the Flames, this is indescribably tense and twisted. Lucy and Chase seem so innocent until Igor’s thoughts in the last paragraph, and then it truly dawns on us what these children have done. Jeepers creepers? Just about. If you enjoyed Terra’s HHC here, be sure to view his other work, including “Diaries of the Gods” and “Race“. 

Featured Image CC // Song Zhen

 

by Colette

Thorn Amidst Joy

Written by Miss Smiley

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today…”

I zone out, feeling Heath’s eyes on the back of my neck. Why is he here? I sigh inwardly and wish I was anywhere but standing where I am.

I told him not to come. I begged him not to come. He begged me not to come. But by God, I promised. I took David’s ring and I gave him my hand and my word. I love him. I know I love him, just as I know I could never love anyone else more. He is my whole world and I adore him.

But for that one week…

I block out the little voice in my head that keeps telling me it’s not too late. Because it is. It was too late the moment David proposed and I said yes. It was too late the moment I fell into bed with him and gave him everything. And it is far, far too late for Heath to come swaggering in and sweep me away, no matter how much I ache for his touch. For God’s sake, is my word worth nothing? I promised. I swore.

And I ache.

“If any man should have just cause against this union, let him speak now.”

My stomach latches onto my ribs and I hope against hope that Heath will and won’t say anything. I am torn. I am a mess. If he speaks, I know I will fall. If I crumble, I know he will speak. If I turn, we will both fall.

I will be strong. I promised. My word is my troth.

I glance over at David. He glances at me. We both smile, hanging in the balance. My gaze falls on the little twist that his lip forms when he’s just about to laugh and it makes my heart ache. I want to be married to him already. These moments are too long and too short all at once.

Someone clears their throat behind me, breaking in on our peace and I pray, for the first time in years, that it isn’t Heath. Let it pass. Let it be.

The moment passes. All is well. And all is ruined. The ring slips onto my finger easily and I smile at David. Something swells in my chest, grabbing at my heart. Is it joy? Is it grief?

No matter. I will be faithful. I will be true.

We sign the paper. I am married. We are married.

All is joy.

All is loss.

This Half Hour Challenge piece was written on behalf of February’s theme, Fanning the Flames. And we believe Miss Smiley has pitched it just right. As a sore reminder of a past lover at a wedding ceremony, those fleeting moments where all appears to be lost, and then the wild blow never hits. It was no movie moment here, perhaps the narrator of the story is Cathy from Wuthering Heights, torn between the feisty, wayward Heathcliff and the English gentleman, Edgar. Either way, we love it. If you enjoyed reading Miss Smiley’s HHC, you can view some of her other works such as, “There will be Tea” and “The Bells of Campden”.  

Featured Image CC // Cristi Sebastien Photography

 

by Colette

April Editorial – Step into Spring with the Sweetest Thing

Hey Inkblotters!

We’re happy to step into Spring this bank holiday weekend – or not, depending on how the weather is in your country. Here in the UK, it’s miserable and wet, on Good Friday as well! A considerable change compared to last year with the scorching Spring sunshine. No matter what you’re getting up to this weekend, make sure you have a blast. At least I won’t be getting burnt this time around, a particular of my skin type sadly. Though I will be eating my fair share of Easter chocolate, preferably not all in one go!

Speaking of Easter, it brings us nicely to our running theme for content this April. We’re celebrating “The Sweetest Thing” this month with content ranging from poetry to short fiction. As per, we shall be kicking off content with a Half Hour Challenge entry from February with Miss Smiley’s “A Thorn Amidst Joy” on the 5th, while on the 10th Ricardo’s poetry, “A Sweetened Ache”, will set our hearts alight in a fiery way. And later in the month, new contributor Katie Allen shares her absolutely delightful poetry on the 25th, so make sure to look out for “L.O.V.E”. Of course, we have much more superb content to share with you throughout the month – don’t miss it.

It goes without saying that our Half Hour Challenge theme for April is sickly sweet and joins our current content with a sticky, gooey-like smear. I’ve been directing The Inkwell’s fellow writers to this scrumptious video featuring the friendly Pooh Bear, where everything is honey. The sweet condiment is, of course, our HHC for this month. If you’d like to send us any of your work for the challenge, you’ll find our submissions page gives you all the important details.

And with that, I wish you a wonderful Easter weekend.

– Colette, Inkblots Editor

Featured Image CC // Sally Ann French

by Colette

Procrastination

Written by Lost in a Dream

Tired of walking and eager to escape the stagnant heat of the late afternoon sun, Rose entered the cool interior of the café on the corner. The name was written in twisted gold metal above the large window and was rendered illegible by the vines which snaked around the loops of the text. She tucked herself away on a table in the corner, next to the window.

A waiter in a black shirt, with sleeves rolled up to his elbows, placed a large opened menu on the table. She gazed over the menu for a few minutes. Salads, pittas, seafood and other Greek dishes. Angry with herself, she closed the menu. She already knew what she wanted: coffee, a distraction-free afternoon and perhaps an ashtray. Once again she was procrastinating, like she had been this morning, like she had been all week.

The waiter returned, and Rose gave her order. She placed her heavy black bag on the table and rummaged inside until she felt the familiar touch of a notebook and a scrappy wad of paper. She laid the items out on the table as neatly as she could and salvaged a couple of pens from the abyss that was her bag.

It was a new notebook. Turquoise with an elasticated band in a matching shade, holding the pages shut. There was always something ceremonial about opening a new notebook accompanied by an unrealistic desire to avoid defiling the pages with her scruffy handwriting. Rose wrote the date as best she could. Again, procrastinating. She would never be able to maintain this neat writing for the rest of the notebook and why was she writing the date? What kind of title is that?
A different waiter placed a tray on the table with a black coffee and a carafe of water.

“Do you need anything else?” he asked.

Rose shook her head. She poured a glass of water and stirred a single sugar into her coffee. No, nothing else. No more excuses, no more procrastination. It was time she wrote down what happened. As long as it was in her head, it did not exist. Writing it down would make it real. True, she had a handful of documents and photographs. But they meant nothing without the connections in her head. She promised herself she wouldn’t care for grammar or style for now, she could fine tune it all later. What she needed now was to make a start.

She picked up her pen again, crossed out the neatly written date and wrote a new title in her signature scrawl.

Procrastination was written on behalf of January’s half hour challenge, Beginnings. Lost in a Dream’s short piece perfectly suited March’s Reflection theme, and it’s something we can certainly all relate to when it comes to writing. Too many times have I sat down to write a journal entry, particularly after a difficult day, and not known where to start. Sometimes all we can do is write, and hope for the best. If you enjoyed Lost in a Dream’s work, you can view more of her superb writing with, ‘Star Talk ii’ and ‘Closure’. 

Featured Image CC // Loren Javier

 

by Colette

Ending at the Start

Written by Rob

It seems a day like any other but there is something nagging me; something out of reach, out of sight. I’m uneasy but I can’t tell you why. My room is bright and airy; my bed is warm and comfortable. I’m fully awake, though still feeling tired.

That aroma: what’s that? I know I recognise it. Ah yes, it’s the smell of a hospital; mystery solved. I’m starting to nod off again when a thought assaults me: why does my room smell like a hospital? I prop myself up on my elbows and look around. Now I’m confused – this isn’t my room; this is a hospital. I take in the row of beds, the curtains, the tubes and cables, medical paraphernalia, clip-boards and charts. There’s a nurse looking at me, walking my way.

“Ah, you’re awake again Mr Daniels. How are you feeling this afternoon?” In a moment she’s at my side and rearranging my pillows in an authoritative manner. “Just lie back and take it easy.” She finishes with the pillows, picks up a clip-board, plucks a pen from her breast pocket and sits back beside my bed. “Now then Mr Daniels, what can you tell me about our conversation this morning?”

“Who are you?” I regret it as soon as I’ve said it. To be fair, it sounded rather rude. The nurse has a very friendly, if not jolly, face. I think she has confused me with someone else, though obviously she has my name right. Maybe there’s another Mr Daniels in another ward; it’s not an uncommon name after all.

“I’m Carrie Templeton. I am the consultant neurologist on your case. Do you remember speaking with me this morning?” Consultant neurologist is a phrase that jolts. I’m struggling to make sense of what she’s saying. Case? What case? I’m not a case! I was playing golf this morning, or was that yesterday? If it’s afternoon, why am I in bed?

Carrie continues, “Don’t worry. Everything is OK. We had the same conversation this morning, and yesterday, and every day last week. You suffered a small thrombotic stroke but it has caused damage to a region of your brain called the Hippocampus. You have a condition we call severe anterograde amnesia which means you are unable to create new memories. So every time you wake up, your memory carries on from where it was when you suffered the stroke at your golf club.”

“Yes, I remember playing golf. Is that good?” I ask, more in hope than conviction.

“Yes, that’s very good. Your long-term memory is working well. We’re going to try stem cell therapy to prompt repair to your Hippocampus. But in the interim, alas, we will have many conversations like this one. My colleagues or I have to tell you about your stroke three or four times each day. It is always news to you.”

“Is there an end in sight?”

“The prognosis is favourable. We’ve had some remarkable results with stem cells. I can’t make you any promises of course.”

“Oh, I think you could. I wouldn’t remember, would I?”

Carrie smiles. “Yes, very funny Mr. Daniels. That’s the third time you’ve cracked that one! Now try to get some rest and we’ll begin again in a few hours.”

Rob’s Half Hour Challenge was written on behalf of January’s theme, Beginnings, but we feel it fits perfectly in our themed content for March. It’s a little like Memento, without the ink and tattoos, but much more light-hearted with the wisecrack from Mr Daniels. We wouldn’t mind reading it again and again! If you enjoyed Rob’s piece, why not check out some of his other work, including ‘Coach‘ and ‘Last Breath‘.

Featured Image CC // Kiuko

by Colette

March Editorial – Upcoming Content finds Reflection is Good for the Soul

Hey Inkblotters!

I’m not sure if it’s the same for you, but each year March arrives I always feel a little swept off my feet. Generally, I put it down to upcoming events such as Mother’s Day (in Britain), Easter and how short February feels, even though it’s only two to three days shorter in comparison to other months. Maybe it’s the amount of birthdays I’m bombarded with from January to March, making me feel I’m buying countless purchases for a string of consecutive weeks. Adding Christmas, too, and it becomes a gift marathon. Perhaps that’s why March seems like the perfect month for a little reflection. We’re done with the New Year’s Resolutions – congratulations if you haven’t already broken them and, equally, if you’ve managed to actively complete them – and the long bout of wintry weather finally comes to an end.

So, with spring in the air, though it’s still quite chilly, March’s content falls under the theme of reflection through fictional characters, journals and poetry. Kicking off this month’s content, then, is HHC veteran writer Rob with “Ending at the Start” on the 5th. Later, we have some beautiful poetry from Ashcloud on the 10th, and tense short fiction from Rae-Chan on the 15th. There are, of course, more short tales and poetry to come on subsequent dates too, so keep an eye out for them.

But if you’re itching to find out March’s Half Hour Challenge theme, we hope you’ll be pleasantly surprised and inspired by Narcissism. In a world where selfie sticks can actually be purchased, society is addicted to its own self-obsession. Though the word “selfie” didn’t actually come into play until the last few years, our ancestors had already been taking self portraits as early as the late 1800s. To submit a HHC entry to us, simply send us an email to theinkwellwriting@gmail.com and follow the guidelines in our handy submissions page.

Enjoy the content, and have a great March.

– Colette, Inkblots Editor

Featured Image CC // Skipology