Remains (flash fiction)

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Remains

 

She looked at the ground. It was the first remains of civilisation she had seen in a few days. It wasn’t much, just pieces of what was once someone’s house she supposed. She looked through it to see if there was anything worth salvaging. Not finding much, she then scanned the area to see if there was anything else nearby, such as possible signs of other people.

Taking her pack off, she grabbed her water bottle and took a drink. Her pack was getting heavier from all the abandoned smartphones she had found and, for some reason, kept. She wondered how many others were left since the cataclysm. Those last days had been utterly terrible. Not in their wildest dreams had they expected Pokémon Go to bring about the collapse of civilisation…

 

Joanne Fisher

 

This was written with the photo prompt provided by Crimson’s Creative Challenge #103.

 

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©2020 Joanne Fisher

 

The View From Above (poem/repost)

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The View From Above

 

 

is this what I meant?

 

to be their guiding light,

their puppet of prophecy, their

salvation

 

I am dying for their sins

 

*

 

sometimes I wanted

to keep my mouth shut

& stroll off by myself

but when I did that

they all went & followed me

anyway

 

*

 

my body burns to a purifying heat

everything – the crowds, the

soldiers, the walled city below

become distant & insubstantial

the air ripples around me

 

the view from up here is

extraordinary

 

the future

a shimmering mass

incandescent with

possibilities to

the end of time’s

horizon –

weaving twisting

turning

trailing away

like a restless

serpent

 

*

 

blood is flowing freely

from my hands & feet

 

I can tell you

I am in considerable

pain up here

 

(I think I’m going

to pass out

any second

 

 

Joanne Fisher

 

 

A few years ago I watched an interview with Norman Mailer about a book he had written. I can’t say I’ve ever read any of his works, but the interview intrigued me. He was talking about how Christianity regarded Jesus as the Son of God, who also happened to be a man, but his book was about Jesus the man, who also happened to be the Son of God. I thought this an interesting shift of perspective and a short time later I wrote this poem utilising this idea, with a touch of Monty Python’s Life of Brian thrown in…

I’d like to say here I’m not trying to make fun of people’s beliefs, I’m just exploring an idea, as I do…

 

This poem was originally published in JAAM, and first appeared on this blog in April 2018.

 

 

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©2020 Joanne Fisher

 

 

 

 

 

 

Survival (flash fiction)

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Survival

 

All around her was wasteland. Kali’s mouth felt like sandpaper, there had been no water for several days. The hot dry wind whipped the rags of her clothes. She walked forwards and then collapsed. Everything went black.

Kali awoke. She was lying in a hut. She tried rising, but felt dizzy. A woman came over giving her a bowl. Kali drank the soup deeply. After so long it felt nourishing.

“You were near death when we found you.”

“Where am I?”

“In our village. You can stay as long as you want.”

Maybe she would stay here a while.

 

Joanne Fisher

 

Word count: 99

 

This was written with the prompt of a story about nourishing provided by the Carrot Ranch May 7 Flash Fiction Challenge.

 

 

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©2020 Joanne Fisher

 

The Structures (flash fiction)

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The Structures

 

Kim had been walking for a long time when she saw several tall structures in the distance. It was the first sign of human civilisation she had seen for a while. As she got nearer, she found they were standing among the tall grasses abandoned. She wondered how they had got here, what they were for, and why they had been left there. She was surprised by how tall they were and decided to climb up one to get a good view.

When she got to the top, instead of seeing the expected panorama of wilderness, she instead saw towns and roads full of activity. Surprised, she went back down the ladder but found as soon as she did, the vision disappeared and there was just wasteland around her again. She returned to the top and observed the thriving townships below, desperately wishing she could be a part of it.

 

Joanne Fisher

 

Word count: 150

 

This was written with the photo prompt provided by Crimson’s Creative Challenge #74.

 

 

Please donate! 🙂

 

 

©2020 Joanne Fisher

 

 

 

The High Castle (poem)

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The High Castle

 

 

the world is silent now

 

once something sang

in the branches of the dying tree

 

it had a name

they all had names

 

there were names for everything

I cannot remember them

 

the older I get the less sure I am of anything

all I see is my world falling into darkness

 

stomping around the empty halls

with a festering wound that will not heal

 

I wish I could die

seriously

 

I wish I could die

 

*

 

the world has seen

alpha & omega

 

life still clings to this rock

let go

 

let go let go let go let go let go let go

before it all

 

happens again

 

*

 

long ago there was a vision –

 

a golden chalice

healing the old wounds

of the decayed earth

 

I do not know if it was meant for me

 

some days I sit beside the river

choked with dry weeds

watching a fading sun slowly descend

 

the trees scratching the dead sky

with bony fingers

 

hoping to see

a stranger

holding aloft

the golden cup

 

until then, I wait

 

(to

escape

the vortex

face the fury

& burn

 

 

Joanne Fisher

 

 

Like Drought Rhythms this is one of my apocalyptic poems. It is based heavily on the Fisher King myth. The narrator has gone slightly insane…

 

 

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©2020 Joanne Fisher

 

 

 

 

Watching The 100

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I was meant to be working on part 13 of my story tonight  (I told myself to do 1000 words tonight) but my attention has been waylaid by the fact that Netflix here has finally made season 4 of The 100 available here. To be honest it may have been available for a while, but I only just noticed it today. So I am currently binge-watching it.

If you don’t know The 100 is a science fiction show set after a nuclear apocalypse. Basically it’s about a group of people trying to survive in a hostile environment. The people living in space stations survived by joining all the space stations together. The show begins around 97 years after the apocalypse. They send down 100 young people to see if conditions are survivable down on Earth as there are issues happening with the space station. The 100 encounter humans down there who somehow survived the radiation from the apocalypse. In the three seasons I’ve watched they’ve made alliances and had wars with various different clans and a murderous group of people who survived in a fallout shelter. The space station ended up re-entering the atmosphere and so a few of The 100 were reunited with their parents and friends. One thing I liked was that Clarke, one of The 100, ended up having a relationship with Lexa, the Commander of the 12 Clans. Sadly Lexa was killed and I’m still a bit upset about that.

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Clarke and Lexa in happier times.

In season four it turns out a lot of the world’s nuclear reactors have started to go into meltdown which will push the radiation levels up so high no one will be able to survive it. It will be interesting to see how they solve this problem.

So I guess I’ll see you all again in a couple of days…

Question: What TV shows are you watching at the moment?

 

The High Castle (poem)

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Desert Sunset by Dasha444

This is one of my apocalyptic ones –  a retelling of the the Fisher-King myth. The poem’s narrator has gone slightly crazy…

the high castle

 

the world is silent now

 

there was once something singing

in the branches of the dead tree

in the dark

 

it had a name

 

there were names for everything

i cannot remember them anymore

 

the older i get the less sure i am of anything

all i see is my world falling into darkness

 

stomping around the empty halls

with a festering wound that will not heal

 

i wish i could die

seriously

 

i wish i could die

 

*

 

the world has seen

alpha & omega

 

life still clings to this rock

let go

 

let go let go let go let go let go let go

before it all

 

happens again

 

*

 

long ago there was a vision –

 

a golden chalice

healing all the old wounds

of the broken earth

 

i do not know if it was meant for me

 

some days i painfully sit outside

by the river choked with dry weeds

watching a fading sun slowly threading

across the horizon

 

the trees scratching the dead sky

with bony fingers

 

hoping to see

a stranger

holding aloft

the golden cup

 

until then, i wait

 

(to

escape

the vortex

face the fury

& burn

 

Joanne Fisher