Next door’s telly and a falling plane [barometer] “Tyrone Slothrop is gonna be caught out in it, too.” Minerva now, bursting from the head Wants to know what’s going on Why the timelines are slipping and what the hormones have got to do with it Take a good gulp of water, lass Come back down… Continue reading Parallel #2: Vortex
Tag: automatic fiction
![Journal Sequence #14: Beautiful Hailstones [I am you]](https://crdudleycom.files.wordpress.com/2022/01/20220128_190124.jpg?w=640)
Journal Sequence #14: Beautiful Hailstones [I am you]
The first rule of autofiction is that no one admits they’re writing autofiction. They’ll refer to ‘my narrator’ and ‘the plot’ as though they were something other than parts of the author themselves. They are, of course, parts that are not generally accepted explorations. A narrator can indulge in solipsism but a person cannot. The… Continue reading Journal Sequence #14: Beautiful Hailstones [I am you]
The Writing and The Writing
My initial draft of anything is a series of flowing fragments. They are ideas, images, thoughts and feelings. They are connected by an overarching concept, but that would be unclear to anyone reading them at this stage. This writing is what I’m most in love with. I have never felt freer than when I am… Continue reading The Writing and The Writing
Flash: Machine in the Corner/Claws
I “But is it really so bad?” I almost leapt out of my seat at the sound of the voice, coarse and familiar like a long lost grandmother. It was, of course, my moon-self (as opposed to my sun-self, which I worship most often). Sun-selves are all about action and light and focus. Moon-selves are… Continue reading Flash: Machine in the Corner/Claws
![Journal Sequence #8: Terrific [Runes]](https://crdudleycom.files.wordpress.com/2021/11/blue-broken-glass-5-1568349-639x962-1.jpg?w=900)
Journal Sequence #8: Terrific [Runes]
The journal is the writer’s sketchbook. Document what you see, rough out whims and fantasies. Allow fragments and the poorest of punctuation. Allow any form whatsoever. Allow reality to melt into fiction. Stop thinking about how this will be perceived. There is no observer. We are only waves here. The dark-skinned lady with her bald… Continue reading Journal Sequence #8: Terrific [Runes]
Micro Fiction: Cursed
And the world fades away, and I find myself curled up in a nest woven from straw that encloses me all the way around. There’s light coming from somewhere, because I can see. Outside? What’s outside? I’ve a feeling I have never known. A friendly echo, a hum. A message carried upon it that I… Continue reading Micro Fiction: Cursed
Micro Fiction: Elbow
You need the drugs, as it turns out. You need them to make the world shine, to show you it’s more than a three-dimensional dump. You need them so you understand – truly understand – that the fourth dimension is you, your mind. It’s what brings everything to life. It’s what makes a pedestrian crossing… Continue reading Micro Fiction: Elbow
![Cut-up Sequence #2: Remixing Mind [The Letter M]](https://crdudleycom.files.wordpress.com/2021/10/20211004_194018.jpg?w=900)
Cut-up Sequence #2: Remixing Mind [The Letter M]
He hated the spectre-creating machine. It was like the other: wild, rough. It made him sick. But where there is a weapon, man will use it. Where a man hurts, he will seek. Through a tube the egos turned into colours showing their relentless and eternal state of emergency. Humans are perfect green. A green… Continue reading Cut-up Sequence #2: Remixing Mind [The Letter M]
Flash: Colour Bleeds Out/Only Birds
Colour bleeds out, sounds wind down. Muffled, blind. Straight lines, thick and thin, washed in white and grey. It is winter here. Gentle snowflakes fall, though they strike as something sinister. Am I the only one conscious, the only one not a golem made of meat? Playing pieces for cruel gods. This pawn has slipped… Continue reading Flash: Colour Bleeds Out/Only Birds
Serpent
It was then that I realised he had been with me from the beginning. Slithering, serpent-like around my neck without me ever noticing. Thinking about it hurts so much I have to look away. Bury myself in dreams of ghettos and rail tracks and a hug from a leather jacket I never thought I’d see… Continue reading Serpent
C.R. Dudley 