I've got nothing today. G+ changed their photo editor and it sucks now because they don't have all the cool filters so I'm on the hunt for a new free photo editor for a week or two. Hopefully I'll be back with more Photo-Microfic on the second Monday from now. In the meantime, I've got a couple of continuing education classes to keep up with and I'm going to try to get through both of them without losing focus.
To everyone who misses these stories, I want to say thank you. You're the reason I keep posting them. See you soon.
Friday, September 27, 2013
Wednesday, September 25, 2013
Photo-Microfic: Just as Sweet
Photo taken by Steven Ormosi with his Samsung Galaxy S3 and edited in G+. Click on the picture for a larger version.
Just as Sweet
We hit the bridge late at night. We had all been drinking
and partying in the city and it was nice to lay my head on the window and watch
the lights fade into the distance, bridge posts flashing past my eyes as we
went. I tried to keep count but my mind wandered after three.
The others were talking, but I wasn’t listening. I was
thinking about the girl I had met. The one I’d never see again. The one I
probably wouldn’t even be able to remember tomorrow. A snap and she was gone. Like the
bridge posts flying by out the window. But I remembered her now and
cursed myself for not asking for her number.
We were both so drunk, but I held on to her memory. She had orangey hair and an insane laugh and a scathing sense of humor and her name was Stephanie… or was it Sarah?
Monday, September 23, 2013
Photo-Microfic: Plague at the Gates
Photo taken by Steven Ormosi with his Samsung Galaxy S3 and edited in G+. Click on the picture for a larger version.
Plague at the Gates
A nameless meatbag finished barring the door and then
looked back to his partner.
“Thousands of ‘em. Millions maybe. They’re all standing
outside, with their dead eyes, trying to get in here,” he said.
“Don’t worry, those walls are thick as your skull, they’re
not coming in here,” the other replied.
“Well so what? We can’t get out either. What happens when
we run out of food.”
“Eh, I’m sure they’ll move on by then. They’re still animals, right? They’re sitting
out there, trying to get to a meal that will feed what? Three of ‘em? Any
animal that has a survival instinct is gonna move on before too long.”
“But what if they don’t need to eat? They’re zombies,
they just live forever, right?”
“How many times do I have to tell you, they’re not
zombies. They’re just people whose brains stopped working. They’re sick. Not
monsters.”
“But what if they don’t go away, though? What if they
just stay there?”
“Then we’ll see how long it takes ‘em to starve to death,
I guess. Now enough with the twenty questions, there’s no use in worrying about
things that we can’t control. We got more important things to concern ourselves
with, like not letting this dinner get cold.”
We heard it all through the ventilation shaft as we crept
toward them willing our bodies to stop, praying for some way to control
ourselves. Instead we burst through the vent, nearly tripping over ourselves in
anticipation.
We caught them, as usual. And they screamed. I always
dreaded the first bite, the release of endorphins mixed with the taste of living
flesh. Locked inside my killing coffin as it feasted, what scared me most was
that soon I might start to like it.
Labels:
killing coffins,
microfiction,
plague,
short stories,
zombies
Friday, September 20, 2013
Photo-Microfic: Wicker Throne
Photo taken by Steven Ormosi with his Samsung Galaxy S3 and edited in G+. Click on the picture for a larger version.
Wicker Throne
In the garden out back there is a chair that my
mom says has always been there. Despite my skepticism, I can’t argue with her,
it’s been there all my life. When we were kids, my sisters and I would take turns
sitting in it and pretend we were queens of the garden. We had dominion over
all the flowers. Isabel and Rita liked the daffodils, and daisies, and tulips.
They would pretend to always be at grand balls and tea parties with the flower
people. I liked roses the best because they were the most dangerous and I would
pretend I was a protector queen. I would make those roses grow and their
thorns would defend the whole kingdom. All from atop my wicker throne.
I haven’t seen my sisters in almost 25 years. And
the throne is growing decrepit, just like mom. She lies in a bed upstairs
mumbling to herself and I take my seat one last time to try and protect her,
but the throne has lost its magic. I weep for my kingdom.
Labels:
make believe,
microfiction,
mom,
pretend,
short stories,
throne
Wednesday, September 18, 2013
Photo-Microfic: Rural Legend
Photo taken by Steven Ormosi with his Samsung Galaxy S3 and edited in G+. Click on the picture for a larger version.
Rural Legend
“It lives in there?” asked Jake.
“That’s what they say. I’ve heard that it eats
nothing but the bones of humans. Spits out all the guts and skin,” said Kat.
Jake gulped, “Amanda told me that no one has
ever gone inside and come back out alive.”
“Well go on. You said you’d take the dare. Get
inside and see what happens.”
“I don’t think I want to go in anymore,” said
Jake, “I don’t want anything eating my bones.”
“What are you, a chicken?” Kat began to cluck at
Jake.
“Stop it. I’m not a chicken.”
Kat continued clucking.
“Ok, ok. I’m going. Just shut up.”
Jake stepped into the entrance and breathed a
sigh of relief when it seemed there was nothing in the darkness.
His breath caught in his throat when he heard
the sound of pouring liquid filling something up. Two large yellow eyes opened
and glowed, staring straight into him.
“Cup of tea?” asked a gravelly voice from behind
the eyes.
Jake ran out, past Kat, and straight home,
screaming the whole way.
Labels:
chicken,
dare,
microfiction,
monster,
short stories
Tuesday, September 17, 2013
Print Run?
Would anyone be at all interested in reasonably priced prints of any of these pictures I've been running? I could probably do them with or without the story attached. I would have to look into pricing/feasibility, but it's something I've been thinking about and if you would be interested, let me know either here, or on Facebook, or G+, or the Twitterz @steevo83, or email me at steevo83 at gmail dot com, or call me if you happen to know my number, or send smoke signals, but that's it, there are no other ways to get in touch.
Monday, September 16, 2013
Photo-Microfic: The Bends
Photo taken by Steven Ormosi with his Samsung Galaxy S3 and edited in G+. Click on the picture for a larger version. Photo featuring Andrew Uporsky.
The Bends
The Bends
We drove and drove at the morning sun. Absolution was
always just around the next bend. He made dark jokes while I tried to push down my shame with false pride. He seemed genuinely happy. I was empty inside.
I felt the ghosts I thought we’d left in the dust miles ago. They were always just behind the last bend. There was
nothing else for it. I said, "Just drive." So we did. We drove until the sun became the moon and the clouds
became the stars and then we kept driving.
Monday, September 9, 2013
Skip Week 1
Hey everyone, I'm going to run a skip week here and come back on next Monday. I've heard several people say that they like at least some of the microfic I've been putting out, so I'm going to get back to work on it this week. Thanks for all the people I've heard from and I'll have more next Monday.
In the meantime:
http://i.imgur.com/6xAVIgT.gif
In the meantime:
http://i.imgur.com/6xAVIgT.gif
Friday, September 6, 2013
Photo-Microfic: Starlet
Photo taken by Steven Ormosi with his Samsung Galaxy S3 and edited in G+. Click on the picture for a larger version. Photo featuring Daria Uporsky.
Starlet
She had just stopped in to see how we were doing, she
said. Wanted to make sure everything was taken care of.
We told her, “Sure, we’re fine. We’re just glad to see
you now that you’re a big star. We’re happy just to know you’re thinking of us.”
She smiled a little half-smile at us as her manager ushered her back into the
car, said she’d see us around. We knew it was a lie, but we replied much the
same.
And then they took her away.
Labels:
daria,
goodbyes,
limo,
microfiction,
short stories
Wednesday, September 4, 2013
Crisis of Faith
From Facebook (re: Photo-Microfic posts):
Hits and feedback on these have steadily gone down since I started doing them. This leads me to believe that they are not that good or interesting. Which means once the next one runs on Friday, I'm going to take a break and try to work out how to proceed with these, or if it's worth it to keep posting them for everyone to see. Does anyone honestly read these 3 times a week and like them? It's pointless to keep posting them publically if I'm the only one getting enjoyment out of it. Sorry for clogging your feeds everyone! Only one more to go.
Photo-Microfic: One More Song
Photo taken by Steven Ormosi with his Samsung Galaxy S3 and edited in G+. Click on the picture for a larger version.
One More Song
My vision began to blur and my cigarette dropped from my
hand.
I turned to Zack, “What were those pills we took, again?”
He looked at me and laughed, “I can’t remember.”
“Stop laughing,” I told him, squinting hard to make
out his quickly dissipating features, “And try.”
My head became very light. Zack fell into me and we both toppled over.
I looked at all of the feet around us. They began to turn
towards us. People started shouting. The last thing I remember hearing though, was the
opening riff of “Don’t Stop Believing”.
“Oh, I love this song,” I thought.
Monday, September 2, 2013
Photo-Microfic: Skipping Stones
Photo taken by Steven Ormosi with his Samsung Galaxy S3 and edited in G+. Click on the picture for a larger version.
Skipping Stones
Skipping Stones
We gathered a nice pile of flat stones and then we stood
at the water’s edge and tried to skip them all the way across. They never made
it to the other bank. We couldn't think of anything to talk about, my pop and
me. So we just kept on skipping them rocks.
Eventually, I said, “You know they’ll catch up to you, right? You can’t run
forever.”
“I know,” he said, whipping a good one across the surface of the water “I called ‘em right before we came
down here, told ‘em where I’d be tonight. Even gave you the credit for the tip
so you can collect the reward money. I’m turning myself in, son. I just wanted
to come out to the lake one last time and skip stones like we used to.”
Labels:
dad,
microfiction,
pop,
quality time,
short stories,
son,
stones
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