Would you like your writing to reach a wider audience? Then here’s an opportunity.
I’ve been meaning to do this for a while, just for fun and to spread a little literary love. There are now over 2,000 subscribers to this blog. That might not sound all that many, but I know a fair number of you are writers of one kind or another. I’d like to give you a chance to share a small excerpt of your writing with the readers of this blog.
I’m inviting you to submit via the Comments, a piece of your choosing, to a maximum of 250 words. It can be anything you like – a couple of paragraphs from a story, some flash fiction, an opening, an ending, a character description, a piece of the action, a setting, a moment… anything at all. This needs no introduction or explanation, just the words and a title if you have one. If you have a blog or website where readers can enjoy more of your writing, you’re welcome to include a link.
I won’t reply against each Comment, to avoid breaking into the flow, but in a few days, perhaps a week or so (assuming anyone has taken up my offer) I’ll draw a line and offer a little feedback. I’m afraid as the owner of this blog, I’ll also have right of veto on anything which I decide is inappropriate or which I feel uncomfortable associating with my blog. But I’m pretty broad-minded, so don’t worry too much about that.
So for starters, I’ll offer you a piece of my own. No explanation, no qualification, except to say that it isn’t from SINGLED OUT.
The body lay on a trolley. Above it, a flickering neon strip cast a cold light. A white sheet enveloped him, concealing all but his shaven bullet-head and lacerated shoulders. Blood had congealed in a dozen small gashes around his neck. His eyes were closed; lips cracked and swollen. A purple bruise bloomed against his left cheekbone.
She hardly knew him, yet he had the power to arouse a stomach-lurching response in her, even as he lay drained of life. His parting gift, proof beyond doubt that he was gone for good. His life prematurely terminated; hers, forever altered.
The detective had found his way to their apartment block, so the police knew who he was. But someone had to confirm the identity of the body. He’d asked if she was a friend and she’d had to stifle a snigger. The irony of it. No, not even a friend, she’d said. But she was willing to help based on her… acquaintance with the victim; since there was no one else.
Motionless, she stood inches from cold flesh and crusted blood. She felt giddy with… what was it? Fear? Euphoria? A wave of nausea threatened. Swallowing hard to stop the upward rush of acid, she took a breath and found within it an unwavering voice – enough for the necessary words.
‘Yes, that’s him,’ she said. The detective had what he needed, nothing more. She turned towards the door.
My God, she thought, I did it. I did it.
~ ~ ~
Now it’s over to you…