The Characters’ Verdict

youll-never-walk-alone-by-chris-hall-proof-copy.jpg“Here it is!” I hold up the proof copy of You’ll Never Walk Alone to Cynthia and Conner, who are sitting outside in the little garden wasteland outside Cynthia’s flat. It is pleasantly and unseasonably warm for an April afternoon in mid 80s Liverpool.

Connor stretches out his hand. “Let’s have a look then.”

I hand the pristine proof over to him. He turns it over in his hands and nods. “Look rather fine, I must say, Ms Hall. Worth the wait, so it is.” He flicks through the pages and frowns. “Print’s a bit small.”

Cynthia takes the book from him. She riffles the pages, holding it up to her face. “I love the smell of a new book.”

I nod and grin enthusiastically. “What do you think?”

“It’s very nice, my dear.” She looks at the pages more closely. “Oh look, Connor, there’s a little drawing of a cat here.” She holds the book out to him, open at the title page. “Is that my clever boy, Asmar?” 

As if on cue, Cynthia’s beautiful Abyssinian cat emerges from the bushes and stretches languidly in front of us, mimicking the pose in the drawing.

Cynthia turns to the back cover. “Nice photograph of you, Ms Hall.”

“Thank you!” I smile delightedly.

“It must’ve been taken quite a while ago.”

I wince. Cynthia leans forward and pats my hand. “Well why not? None of us is getting any younger.”

Before I have the chance to reply, we hear voices coming around the side of the house. It’s Gina and Lucy. As soon as they see me, they call out in greeting. I hold up the second proof copy I have ordered for my household of characters.

“She has our book!” Lucy and Gina say together. Never mind that it’s my book. Whose name is on the cover?

They take it from me and sit down on the tatty wooden bench next to the wall. They exclaim in delight at the opening paragraphs. Lucy and Gina are, of course, in the opening scene. They start to read and for once they fall silent. After a couple of pages they look up. I can see in their eyes that they approve.

asmar


You’ll Never Walk Alone‘ a novel by Chris Hall will be published next month (we hope).

Writing My City

Open Book Cape Town

I am thrilled to be part of this!

Cape Town Libraries, in conjunction with the Book Lounge and the Fugard Theatre, are involved in an event called Writing My City which is to encourage Capetonians to write stories and poetry about the city they live in.

Cape Town is home to a multiplicity of voices, however some voices are missing. This initiative is aimed at finding those voices and giving them the opportunity to tell their stories to a wider world. In this way, more local community stories can be told and shared.

The aims of the project are wider than just the stories though. This is an opportunity to celebrate and deepen the understanding of who and what makes Cape Town the city it is. By improving understanding, we hope to build better social cohesion. It is also an opportunity to highlight the importance of libraries in the community and widen access to writing and publishing for people who would not otherwise see their work in print.

The winning submissions are to be compiled into a book for publication during the Open Book Festival in Cape Town in September.

Having responded to a call for facilitators, I shall be leading a series of writing workshops at one of our local libraries over the coming weeks. My aim is to bring the stories of ten local women (who I’ve not met yet) to life. The first session’s next week. I’ll keep you posted!

 

No Pressure, Writer!

genre writing challenge lunasonline No Pressure Writer by chris hall

I watch the time countdown on my screen. My shift is about to start. I run my fingers over the keyboard. I’m ready.

The workload has been increasing. So far I’m keeping up. The monitoring is continual. From the moment you are woken until the lights and screens are turned off: when to shower, when to eat, when to take a break.

It’s all about production, efficiency, the bottom line.

Clock in, clock off, clock out. Thank you for your contribution.

At least I’m only writing ‘soapies’ to entertain the masses. Imagine the pressure if I was doing something crucial.


100 word story written in response to Teresa, The Haunted Wordsmith’s Genre Writing Challenge April 16: Technological Horror

Aether Prompt Winner: Chris Hall

In case you missed it…
What a nice surprise I had the other day. I love the way Jason has presented my winning piece – as with all his work. Take a look if you haven’t already discovered his dark and humorous little stories!

Jason H. Abbott's avatarAethereal Engineer

Storyteller and Accidental Blogger Chris Hall of luna’s on line grabbed the win for the March 13th Aether Prompt with tendrils of terror and her piece “Cepha’s Revenge”:

Cepha observed the two galleons turn broadside. As greed and hatred erupted into sea-churning canon fire, she flung a tentacle into the pool beside her, summoning the sisterhood.

They came, they writhed, and the sea boiled. They pulled timbers apart with zealous suckers. Masts crashed onto splintering decks. Water gushed in.

For the humans must pay: creatures, so new to old Mother Earth, now plundered her riches and fought over them.

Cepha stirred the pool again.

Coins and trinkets emptied from chests were gathered up by eager tentacles, while sailors sank into the murky depths.

Calm returned.

Congratulations! Now you’re in the running for the 2019 AETHEREAL ENGINEER WRITER SUPPORT PRIZE PACKAGE! How might she, or possibly you, perchance win such fabled…

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The Other Side of the Black Hole

black hole guardian.com
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Everyone fled for the old, deserted places; to the caves, the ruins and the ancient abandoned settlements. The cities had long gone; collapsed in on themselves. All modern infrastructure wiped out.

No-one understood why, but there was no longer anyone to ask or to explain. The politicians, the scientists and the specialists had long retreated into their state-of-the-art doomsday bunkers. Much good would it have done them. All technology had fried when the black hole came into view.

The inevitable came, although it took months. Quite a number of us survived. There had been long enough to prepare. But then the time came. The skies grew dark. There were flashing lights, the rushing of wind, a strange hollow feeling that seemed to gnaw on the soul.

When it was all over, we awoke to a bright new dawn. We opened our eyes, felt our limbs, went outside and looked at each other. Then we noticed. Everything was reversed like in a mirror. Our hearts were beating on the other side of our chests. It took a little getting used to.

We carried on, improvised. Crops grew. The water in our wells was sweet. Everyone felt good, younger by the day. We were more vigorous, more robust, we were quicker and stronger. And then we realised. We were actually getting younger, day by day. And the process was speeding up. What would become of us as we hastened to youth, to childhood and earlier?

Where were you before you were born?


Don’t have nightmares, it’s a long, long way off: 
https://www.bbc.com/news/science-environment-47873592

The Rain Forest Revolts

Ecothriller
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The Foremost Developer had taken the bait: 100 acres of rain-forest, ripe for replanting with oil palms. He rubbed his hands. His bulldozers were ready. But this time Gaia had been awakened; she too was ready for destruction. This time the earth would revolt. It would not be the last.


50 word story written in response to Teresa, The Haunted Wordsmith’s Genre Writing Challenge.

Sign Here

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– Okay, that’s what I signed, but I didn’t sign up for this.

– What do you mean?

– I signed up to write one post a day, every day, for a month.

– To start with.

– Yes, but…

– Didn’t you read the small print?

– No, well, I just assumed…

– Never assume.

– But…

– It increases in intensity. Exponentially each day. One post a day, two posts a day, four, then eight…

– So today’s Day Seven and it’s 64 posts, then tomorrow it’ll be 128 and the next day 256 and so on.

– Exactly.

– Well, sorry, I can’t. I quit.

– You quit. Okay.

– Thanks.

– You didn’t read the penalty clause then?

– No… What? Oh no!

– So what’s it going to be?

– Okay. I’ll do it.

– Sign here.


From Teresa, The Haunted Wordsmith‘s Story Starter Challenge #6 – 1 day late, blame the time zone.

With best wishes to Camp-NaNoWriMo’s and NoPoWriMo’s everywhere!

The Fall of ‘The Sparrow’

 

The Sparrow by Chris Hall lunasonline
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Small, brown-clad, zip-lining across the city skyline, the bird-like acrobat would alight on the tiniest ledge. Clip on, push off, hurtling through the topmost branches of the urban jungle. But tempted, the bird became a cat, a peeping tom. His wings were clipped and now The Sparrow flies no more.


50 word story, written in response to Paula Light‘s Three Things Challenge: PL51

No More Stories

say what you see 08.04.19 lunasonline chris hall

In the sodium lit, neon flicking city, electricity hums.
In homes where data downloads and Netflix streams,
everything’s on tap, content feeds.

No more mysteries, no more myths,
fables are unnecessary. All is explained
by an expert, a pundit or an app.

A glorious storm floods the dark skies,
unnoticed a lightning bolt flies.
A switch is tripped. Darkness.

Emergency lights click on, generators kick in,
faces are blue-screen illuminated.
No-one tells stories any more.


From  a prompt by Hélène Vaillant of Willow Poetry
https://helenevaillant.com/2019/04/02/11001/

The Secret Ingredient

magical realism challenge by teresa 040419
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The restaurant was closed the following day and I was leaving that afternoon. What potent ingredient had been in the aperitif which caused the world to change before my eyes?

A seemingly innocuous ruby concoction which rendered people’s reflections invisible and gave me a voracious appetite for the steak tartare.

 


50 word story written in response to Teresa, The Haunted Wordsmith‘s Genre Writing Challenge. I’m not quite sure that I pulled it off, but it’s just a bit of fun!
Based on a strange evening I once had in Seville. I’ll tell you about it sometime.