Greetings oh blogging world. I am back this week with a piece I wrote for the wonderful Belong Magazine…
We all love our little blogger back and forths, and this month I have been exploring just why. Check out the piece on the Belong Magazine blog… here, and if you have any more blogging tips, feel free to share! x
There is something about reading. Lots of us do it here on wordpress, it’s what has brought us together, and I tried to put into words exactly what it is that I love for Perdiz Magazine last week.
Here’s an excerpt from my piece, but head to the beautiful Perdiz (HERE) to read the full article.
“I was sat on my bed reading Charlie and the Chocolate Factory when I discovered my mum was moving us in with some strange man that wasn’t my dad. I stared at the fading bobbled butterflies on my duvet cover for a few seconds, and then I turned back to Violet Beauregarde ballooning into a giant blueberry. Her plight in this chocolate fantasy land made more sense to me than anything the real world could offer in that moment.
That’s the thing about books, and certainly about great books, they make sense. They are written to make sense. As for the world around us, that’s anybody’s guess.”
Greetings my little lions and lionesses. This week I pulled from the pot a pretty piece of penmanship in pink, and it echoes the theme of a story I told last winter, which was published in Popshot Magazine.
The word is ‘time’, and you can read an excerpt of my original tale below, or you can find an online preview of the magazine here.
As always you have seven days to create a flash fiction story in 400 words or less. Include the tag ‘Literary Lion’, pingback to this post, shout at me on twitter and Instagram so I can share your literary prowess, and have a browse of each other’s tales in the WordPress reader.
Waiting for No Man.
Mr Dufour looked at the line of people; several days worth easily, perhaps even weeks. They snaked between the weighty columns of the room and bent out of the door. He couldn’t see the end of the queue outside, but he knew it was forever growing.
When he first started taking requests from his visitors, his heart said yes to almost every appeal. Dying parents that needed more time, lost children that required longer to be found, even the young at heart that weren’t ready to grow old. But with every yes he gave, a hundred more of the same would journey to his door, and with every granted wish, his creation would be forced into overdrive.
When he discovered the bottling of time he made a promise that he would never take it for himself. But hundreds of thousands of requests later and he was weak and he felt old. The skin on his hands was thinning, his spine was beginning to curve, and his once coarse black hair was now an unkempt tuft of grey clinging to a line between his ears at the back of his head.
Initially he thought he had changed the world for the better. Over time he came to realise that he had just made it more arduous. The further he prolonged life the longer everyone needed to live, the more time he gave those who were failing, the more they needed to succeed. The days he granted to the dying meant the diseases became more aggressive, the hours he presented to the needy made them less able to survive next time. It was this very morning that he noticed more of his hair scattered across his pillow, and he knew a dark cloud was lurking in the distance.
The final day of photography101… ‘Triumph’.
Word.
“She stood up, and picked up the nearest cylinder and held it between her hands. It hypnotised her just as it did many years ago, the clear glass filled with spiralling tendrils of time, almost whispering from within.”
https://lauragabriellefeasey.wordpress.com/2014/10/03/time/
There is something about calling yourself a writer… The first time the description ever passed my lips it sounded like a fanciful pipe dream, especially when my scribbled words had yet to sit somewhere that could validate my claiming of such a job title.
But through my letterbox today appeared a sublime magazine that I fell for just months ago, when I dared to daydream of the time my words might appear on its exceptional pages. Today that daydream was hurled into reality, and Popshot Magazine will now forever be supreme in my trek to literary illustriousness, as the first place my writing was ever published.
So here it is, the pudding proof for you to gorge yourself silly on…. My name is Laura Gabrielle Feasey and I am a writer.
Feeding my writer’s soul with some inspired tales and envisaging the day my own words grace the pages. #100happydays #day98
Some of the finest minds this world has ever known have deliberated their existence for eons and never settled on a satisfactory conclusion. My brain could ponder for just as long and never master the art of knowing who I am, so instead I am going to lead with who I want to be. If the world reeked of perfection I’d be juggling between script commissions, a best selling novel and a stack of magazine cut outs. At the moment I’d contentedly clutch at one of the three.
Finally finding some reading time for the most legendary of all the film magazines, Little White Lies. I came across this little bible a few years ago and have found a home for every issue on my bookshelf ever since. We share a common loathing for Michael Bay. When I discovered this I knew we would share an eternal magazine/reader bond. #100happydays #day40
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