A Story!

Dec. 29th, 2011 09:35 pm
noctuary: (books)
This is a story for @Canannada and it is partially historically incorrect, just because there's only so much research I feel like doing. Anna wanted a bittersweet story and listed some stuff that could be included, like candles and Canada.


Oh, John. I write this knowing it will never reach you; yet I live in hope.

I have sponsored another expedition to find some trace of you and your men, though they tell me it is hopeless to continue to search. Perhaps they are right, but I shall never stop until I find some sign of you, e'en if it cost me every penny I posses.

I imagine you in the Arctic wastes of far-north Canada, perhaps in a tent of animal skins, living with some native tribe. You are warm and well-fed, and the children teach you their little games to pass the winter.

Do you wear furs and animal skins? Do you hunt with these people, and fish through the ice? do you think of me, and make plans to travel south somehow and find civilisation, that one day you migh
t see me again?

I do not blame you, my dear John. I have heard stories of how very cold it is in Canada so far north. Perhaps it would be all but impossible for you to make your way back alone. Do any of your men survive? I hope they do. Their poor wives.

Inglefield will be leaving soon, on the
Isabel. I have a good feeling about this expedition, John. I do. God willing, they will find some trace of you. I will not rest until you return to me - or I am brought some evidence of your death.

You may rest assured that I am not idle. I have been travelling a great deal with your dear niece Sophia. She has been a wonderful companion to me in the years you have been lost, as have the "old Arctics" that have been so kind as to brave the icy North to find you for me.

I am in Scotland often these days; the Orkney Isles are as close as I can be to you. It is deathly cold in winter, and I wonder if you feel the self-same chill in your bones.

d you know, John, if nothing else, these expeditions I have sent to find you have brought back such fascinating records of the Arctic. How I long to hear you read them to me in the drawing room by the fire!

God willing I will have news of you soon. For now, I will dream and hope.

Now I shall fold this letter and hold it to the candle flame. Whether in the Canadian Arctic or in Heaven I pray its essence will reach you.

Eternally Yours,


There you are Anna! I hope you like it.

There used to be a really depressing documentary about the Franklin Expedition on youtube but I can't find it any more. :(

noctuary: (Default)
So, there's a short story competition running here at the moment. Entries close on the 26th of this month. I was thinking of sending in two stories... one I haven't yet written and "Where is Sleep" that I recently posted here. It turns out I can't do that... all entries mustn't have been "published or broadcast", which I'm fairly sure means blogs as well. Damn. That means more work, and I have no ideas. I should knuckle down with notebook and pen. Speaking of pens, my signo is nearly out of ink. Fuck.

In other news, I have finally finished Titus Groan, which was written by a very GOD of the English language, at whose feet we are not fit to scribble. Wow. One day, a review? Possibly. For now, 10 out of 10, if you have not read it your life is bland and lifeless, please go forth and enrich your soul.
noctuary: (Clocks)

@whereisjustin aka Anna aka Justyn (that'd be how I tend to think of her) was tired a night or two ago and requested a story about being tired. I have written a story about being tired. I know all the fuck about being tired.

~ Story temporarily excised ~

The difference between this girl and me is that I usually have my laptop next to me in case of nighttime boredom and I don't bother even trying to sleep until at least 2 or 3 in the morning. Fuck you, sleep disorders. Thank god I'm not working at the moment. I remember that special hell.

I found my old folder of short stories on my computer. Some of them are fucking good. But I still think I'll write a new one for this upcoming competition. Most of them seem to involve penises, for some reason. (Don't you judge me.)

noctuary: (Default)
Today's writing exercise - a 75-word drabble I may post in the future... or hell, at the end of this post - struck home one of my personal problems when it comes to writing short stories, and that is that I'm rarely sure when to stop. I often reach a point where I feel an end could be, but I'm unsure how to bring it about. I often also have more to say, so I keep going. Often it does come to a satisfying end, eventually. But one thing that often concerns me is whether something has been overstated. Do I ruin the story by keeping it going past the original point of "I-feel-like-the-end-could-be-here"? Is everything after this point just belabouring the idea, or spelling it out for the reader unnecessarily? Or is it the other way around.... if I stop too early, is the reader left wondering "what the fuck was that meant to mean?"? Am I failing to explain myself properly? Am I selling the story short (sorry) by not letting it breathe and take shape over more pages?

God even this post is awfully written today. It's just been an evening for it, I think. Forum posts a mess, brain all over the place with the wind. The wind is blowing a gale, and quite literally. It's fun and exciting and makes one feel warm and cosy, but it's just possible that it has also addled one's mind.

I think in the case of my vignette, I am happy with where it finishes - but I feel like there could be a lot more to it. I may well work it into a good short story in its own right. Of course, reading over the vignette itself, it's really awful.... Looks like it's a project for the future: to rewrite the entire thing as a genuine short story.


noctuary: (Default)

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