Ben Paddon

Category: Ficlets

  • Ficly Friday

    My Ficlets are apparently archived, so I’m going to stop re-posting them here (not that I was posting them with any frequency anyway). In any case Kevin Lawver, the Father of Ficlets, recently launched a new website that is stunningly similar to the one AOL bought and subsequently shut down last year. It’s called Ficly, and I have an account there. Which is nice.

    So I’m reinstating a tradition from my old blog – on Fridays I will post links to all of the Ficlets Ficlies I have written during the week, along with the opening line and a little bit about where that Ficly came from. So here we go:

    First Contact – June 1st, 09
    Mankind’s first contact with aliens was not a ceremonious affair.

    I like the idea of taking what should be a grand, monumental occassion and trimming it down to something utterly unremarkable. This fit the bill nicely and seemed a good way to start my Ficly-writing.
     

    The Vertigo Vigilante – June 1st, 09
    Darren Hardly wanted to be a superhero. He fit the bill nicely – he was tall and muscular, with that perfect jawline you only see in comic books, the kind you could use to open tins with.

    I also like the idea of someone who feels that they were made for one thing being utterly incapable of fulfilling their ambition.
     

    On the Subject of the Morning After – June 4th, 09
    “No,” said Seb. “There’s much more to life than just sleeping around.”

    I’m sure there are people who will take that opening line and say, “Oh.” But, no. Nothing to do with any of my personal business. In fact this brief Mark & Seb conversation stems from dialog I wrote for a sitcom pilot back in February.
     

    Grammar-Man Vs. the Mayor! – June 4th, 09
    The Mayor stood by the window, looking out at the city below. “I’m sorry, Grammar-Man, but this don’t fly.”

    This Ficly started with the idea of “Nobody’s perfect. Well, except for Captain Perfection.” Everything else just wrote itself around that.

    Dark Chocolate – June 5th, 09
    “There’s no two ways about it,” said his lawyer. “You’re gonna have to settle.”

    This is, I am sure, hardly an original idea, but it popped into my head and I needed to get it down. Pretty disappointed with the lack of rating or comments on this one. I quite like it.
     

    Meatlovers – June 6th, 09
    “Carla, I’ve got something I need to tell you. I’ve been having an affair.”

    I sat down with the intention of writing something depressing, and this came out instead. What does that say about me?

    So there’s that.

  • Ficlet: Booze For Thought

    Here’s today’s over-a-year-old ficlet. Enjoy!

    Booze For Thought

    “Your problem,” said Jake, “Is that y’dunno ‘ow to communicate.”

    Rich’s smile faded from his face. “What? That’s bollocks.”

    “Nah, nah, fink ‘bout it. Ever’ girl you’ve ever dated, right, ever’ girl up sayin’ you never click wivver, y’know? S’like… s’like you’re not open enuff wiv’m.”

    “You,” smiled Rich, “Are quite clearly drunk.”

    “Th’drink’s got bug’rall t’do wivvit.”

    “The drink has everything to do with it, from where I’m sitting. I can communicate! I do! It’s not my fault that the girls I’ve been out with have the emotional depth of a Politician. I can communicate. They can’t.”

    “B’locks.”

    “Nor can you, apparently. How many of those have you had?”

    “Dunno. Lots… lost count af’er th’first… first seven or so.”

    “Right, give me your keys.”

    As Rich helped his friend into the back seat of his car, he couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe Jake, in his drunken stupor, was right. He’d have plenty of time to think about it tomorrow, while he was cleaning the vomit out of the back seat.

    Commentary…

    Nothing really insightful here – I just like the irony of someone who is having trouble stringing together a complete sentence telling another person that they’re incapable of communicating. Glod knows where the relationship stuff keeps coming from, though. I’m sure someone else can read whatever they like into that.

    In Retrospect…

    Again, this is a ficlet I like from start to finish. These fellas strike me as a prototypical “Mark and Seb”.

  • Ficlet: To Serve Man

    I realise I’ve not been keeping up my “post an old ficlet a day” routine, so here we go again.

    To Serve Man

    The kettle begins to whistle, and before the sound has a chance to pick up any real volume the droid lifts it off the small gas heater and pours hot water into the teacup, then uses the remaining contents to fill up a hot water bottle. It stirs the contents of the teacup, then carefully picks it up in one hand, takes the hot water bottle in the other, and wanders out of the kitchen, down the long dark hall, towards the lounge.

    The glow of the roaring fireplace illuminates the room. The power had been cut long ago, but its master hadn’t objected. It walks to the chair where his Master lays, places the hot water bottle under the blanket, then sets down the teacup, and takes away the old cup which is still full of what is now very cold tea.

    It then carries on with its duties – mopping floors, cleaning surfaces, and scrubbing a bath its master hasn’t used in weeks. It is, after all, only fulfilling its primary function. It doesn’t occur to the simple thing that its Master will not be getting up again.

    Commentary…

    This is by no means a new idea, but I enjoyed writing it. The title comes from the short story by Damon Knight, which is about something completely different. Not sure what else I can say, really. It was interesting writing in the present tense.

    In Retrospect…

    This is one of those rare ficlets that I think is virtually perfect. It is perhaps a little too on-the-nose at the end, but such is the nature of ficlets.

  • Ficlets: “But Wait, There’s More” and “Journey Of The Sorcerer”

    Two ficlets this time, because the second follows on from the first.

    But Wait, There’s More

    “This is your task to undertake,” said Gerkyn the Wizard, “And yours alone. I bid you good luck.”

    “Hang on,” said Dwylun. “I haven’t even said if I’m going yet.”

    “But you must!”

    “No. I’ve got things to do. Bugger off.”

    Dwylun slammed the door in Gerkyn’s face. The Wizard couldn’t help but be annoyed. That was the 29th person today to turn down the Sacred Quest. Was there something he wasn’t doing? Something wrong with his pitch? Here he was, offering a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to travel across the Plains of Geruth, navigate the Woods of Labyr, and destroy the Cursed Daggers in the Fiery Pits of Mornda. You’d have thought there would be more takers.

    Wearily, he moved on to the next house, and knocked on the heavy round wooden door. An elderly Wood Elf opened the door.

    “Can I help you?”

    “Hello there! My name is Gerkyn, and I’d like to take a moment to talk to you about this set of Cursed D—”

    “Sod off!”

    SLAM . He hadn’t even had a chance to unravel the demo set. It was going to be a very long day.

     

    Journey Of The Sorcerer

    “This is your task to undertake, and yours alone. I bid you good luck.”

    Blande the Tree Elf rubbed his chin for a moment and seemed to stare out into space before looking back at the wizard. “Yeah, why not.”

    “Wait, hang on,” said Gerkyn, completely taken aback. “You’re actually going to do the quest?”

    “Yeah. I’ve been looking for an excuse to get out of the house. It’ll do me good.”

    “Fantastic! Let me just get out the paperwork.”

    “Although, it sounds dangerous,” Blande said, rubbing his chin again.

    “Very,” agreed Gerkyn. “There are dragons in the Woods of Labyr that’ll drag you off by your d—”

    “Very dangerous,” Blande repeated. “I’ll need magical aid.”

    “Yes, I expect so,” said the wizard. He had an inkling of what direction this was heading in.

    “Will you accompany me?”

    Gerkyn sighed, and nodded. He was, of course, contractually obliged to go with anyone who bought into the quest. He had things he’d rather be doing, such as continuing to breathe in and out. Still, he if wanted to make the sale…

     

    Commentary…

    I love the concept behind this – a Gandalf-like figure who has to go door-to-door to sell epic quests. I liekd it enough to decide I wanted to use it as the basis for the NaNoWriMo novel I didn’t even start writing in November just gone. I’d love to tackle this subject matter again some day.

    In Retrospect…

    The first part is definitely a lot stronger, although it’s a touch on the strained side. Part two just feels forced, though. I had a lot I wanted to do – in both of these ficlets – and I guess the 1,024 character limit doesn’t lend itself well. I’m sure a more seasoned writer could do something really great with this concept with an equally limited canvas…

    Part two, by the way, is most obviously named after the song of the same name by the Eagles, used as the theme to The Hitchhiker’s Guide To The Galaxy. I’d decided I wanted to write a ficlet with this title long before I decided to write a follow up to “But Wait, There’s More”.

  • Ficlet: Job Satisfaction

    It’s been a while since I last posted one of my old ficlets to my blog, so here’s one I wrote a little over a year ago.

    Job Satisfaction

    There was this lovely couple out on a date. Beautiful restaurant, nice live music. The meals were fantastic, we’re talking true works of art, here. The sauces, the smells, the flavors… I would’ve felt terrible if I’d chosen to do it then. So I waited.

    They were in that place for what seemed like a small ice age, before they’d decided to move on to a late-night walk in the park. Nice open areas, very little lighting, and virtually no one else there save for a late-night jogger and some guy pullin’ his pants down at passing-by geese. That was where I chose to do it, and I chose to use the ol’-fashioned methods.

    They were sat on a bench, just enjoying each other’s company. I still feel guilty about it, truth be told. But I did what I was paid to do – I pulled the trigger. I hit my mark. I packed my things, and I walked away.

    In the corner of my eye, I could see the distraught look on his face, as he cradled his dying lover in his arms. I can still see him now. This job’s a real bitch. I shoulda been a Chef.

    Commentary…

    The idea of someone having such a “glamorous” job (albeit one as morally dubious as Assassin for Hire) that they absolutely can’t stand is something I’ve always enjoyed playing with. Hitmen are usually portrayed in stories as cold, heartless killing machines, and I wanted to imbue this guy with a little bit of soul. We all know someone who does their job not because they like it, but because it’s where their career path has led them to. I find myself wondering what led this guy to his current position.

    In Retrospect…

    Some of the punctuation on this piece is a little wobbly. I’d love to have gone into more detail about the events of the night itself, but there’s that 1,024 character limit. Maybe I’ll revisit this one day.