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C.E. Ayr_22-04-2015 (bc)
C.E. Ayr – Creator of a new genre

C.E. Ayr is a pioneer of a new genre of short story writing.
He has his own name for it – Sound Bite Fiction.

This is an emerging style aimed at the fast-moving time-restricted 21st Century reader.
The descriptive text is pared to the bone, events move at lightning speed.
The intelligent reader visualises an entire scenario in glorious Technicolour.
The tales are short, sparse and to the point, many of them less than one page in length.
His writing takes the reader to the core of the action, the characters, or the moment of crisis.
Like the sculptor who said that the statue exists in the stone and all he has to do is remove what is not needed, this writer prunes everything until he gets to the heart of what is.

This collection of stories by C.E. Ayr, has  been written in his current home on the Cote d’Azur.
Many of the tales are based in and around the place he calls Medville.
Mysterious and enigmatic, served with a splash of humour, nothing here is ever quite what it seems.

Expect the unexpected.
There is always a twist in the tail.
Nearly.

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Back to Port – Friday Fictioneers

Friday Fictioneers is hosted by the wonderful Rochelle, the undisputed master of what I call Sound Bite Fiction.
She sets the weekly challenge, and the standard.
Today’s artistic photo by Georgia Koch is rather like looking in a mirror, I see something old, grey and somewhat past its best.
I did not write anything for this last year, perhaps because I was in Canada at the time.
Or perhaps I just lacked inspiration.
The idea, as always, is to write a story of around 100 words based on the picture, below.

Copyright – Georgia Koch

Copyright – Georgia Koch

Click here to hear me read the story:
Back to Port

I head back to port in the failing light.
The Mediterranean seems strangely devoid of other craft.
I see a solitary small boat ahead, dwarfed by my sixty-foot yacht.
I catch it fast, on a course to overtake on its starboard side.
Its two occupants, a man and a pre-adolescent boy, wave a friendly greeting.
I raise a hand from the steering wheel, send a salute in return.
Then I look around at the empty seas.
There is nothing as far as I can see.
With a grin, I grip the wheel more firmly.
And pull my left hand down.

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Keeley – Sunday Photo Fiction

Sunday Photo Fiction is a weekly challenge presented by my old friend Al Forbes.
The idea is to write a short story (200 word max) inspired by what you see in his picture (below).
Al’s great photo of a lamppost glowing in the dark made me think of romance, and lost love.
Then I thought of this.
Click on this link to enter your tale, and see what others have written.

Copyright Al Forbes

Copyright Al Forbes

Click here to hear me read the story:
Keeley

I am sitting outside the little café in the square.
At the next table is an English family, mum, dad, son, daughter.
We get talking.
They are on holiday, obviously.
They are friendly and intelligent.
Chris is a nice guy, and they are good kids.
Keeley is blonde, slim and tanned, with a great smile.
In short, she is stunning.
I see them a few times, here and around town, always all together.
Then, only a couple of days before they are due to leave, I see her come out of a shop alone.
I am leaning against a lamppost, suffering in the heat.
I raise a hand in greeting.
She smiles enchantingly, greets me French style, with a kiss on each cheek.
I see the concern in her eyes.
Are you feeling okay, she asks.
Not great, I say, need to get into the shade.
She looks around uncertainly.
Where, she asks.
I live just around the corner, I say, pointing tiredly.
I’ll help you to your door, she volunteers, should I call Chris?
No, I give her my arm, I’ll be fine.
As we move slowly towards my home, my heart is pounding.
My patience has paid off.
Eight days of surveillance is worthwhile.
I am so glad I took the time to sharpen my knives.

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Rock Pool – Friday Fictioneers

Friday Fictioneers is hosted by the wonderful Rochelle, the undisputed master of what I call Sound Bite Fiction.
She sets the weekly challenge, and the standard.
Today’s curious photo by Janet Webb is again from 2013. It intrigued me then, and it intrigues me now.
This is my take on it from those long gone days, back when I was hardly more than a laddie!
The idea, as always, is to write a story of around 100 words based on the picture, below.

© Janet Webb

© Janet Webb

This is the hardest reading I have ever tried. I am not sure it works too well.

Rock Pool

Hurry, Grandpa, there might be crabs in this one.
Oops, I just put my foot in there, I’m all wet!
And look at that funny thing, it looks like a sponge, is it a sponge?
Oh, is it?
Why is there a wasp nest on the beach?
Do you know everything, Grandpa?
I’m going to look in here for crabs.
Oh, look, fish, lots of little fish!
There might be crabs under this rock, it’s quite big.
Will you help me please, Grandpa?
It’s a bit heavy and I’ve got my feet all wet again!
Grandpa?
Where …..?
Grandpa!
MUMMY!!!!!

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The Wind – Sunday Photo Fiction

Sunday Photo Fiction is a weekly challenge presented by my old friend Al Forbes.
The idea is to write a short story (200 word max) inspired by what you see in his picture (below).
Al’s expert photo of a delicate and beautiful flower makes me think of sunshine.
But I am still in Scotland, so it is but a distant memory.
Click on this link to enter your tale, and see what others have written.

Copyright Al Forbes

Copyright Al Forbes

Click here to hear me read this short story (1 minute 20 seconds):

The Wind

The wind is growing steadily stronger.
There was none when we landed.
We saw the treetops sway gently in the turbulence caused by our ship.
The planet is earth-like, verdant.
But with one very strange difference.
There are no animals.
By this I mean no mammals, no birds, no insects.
There is not a living creature on land or in the air.
We have not yet checked the ocean depths, but there is no sign of life in the rivers or ponds.
The wind is almost gale force now.
This is clearly unusual, because trees and shrubs are losing their leaves, and flowers their petals.
Topsoil is being blown off the steeper slopes, exposing roots, leaving saplings and bushes clinging on desperately.
We get word that Rick Malone has disappeared into a sharp gulley.
It seems to me that there are two possible reasons.
Maybe our arrival upset some delicate natural balance.
Or, perhaps, the planet simply does not want us here.

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The Bridge – Friday Fictioneers

Friday Fictioneers is hosted by the wonderful Rochelle, the undisputed master of what I call Sound Bite Fiction.
She sets the weekly challenge, and the standard.
Today’s photo is by Adam Ickes, and my alter ego did a somewhat Shakespearean take on it back in 2014.
So here it is again, all the way from a sun-kissed Bonnie Scotland where I am seeking a solution to my continuing dextral problem.
The idea, as always, is to write a story of around 100 words based on the picture, below.

© Adam Ickes

© Adam Ickes

Click here to hear me read this 100-word tale:

The Bridge
His heart leaps as he approaches the bridge.
He sees her on the other side of the great gorge, heading in the same direction.
They have been meeting here secretly for months now.
Their love is forbidden by their different backgrounds, different cultures, warring families.
But they will not falter.
Then he sees the figures on the bridge.
Her father, her brothers, carrying knives.
She waves him back frantically.
He walks onto the bridge, ready to make peace.
Her eldest brother steps forward and strikes.
As he falls, mortally wounded, he sees her climb the barrier and hurl herself off.

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Birds of a Feather – Sunday Photo Fiction

Sunday Photo Fiction is a weekly challenge presented by my old friend Al Forbes.
The idea is to write a short story (200 word max) inspired by what you see in his picture (below).
Once again Al’s photo raises, in my mind at least, bleak images of war, and its ultimate futility.
Click on this link to enter your tale, and see what others have written.

Copyright Al Forbes

Copyright Al Forbes

Click here to hear me read this story:

Birds of a Feather

The swallow swoops, startled, from her nest.
The roar of battle begins abruptly, the castle walls quivering under the first onslaught.
Her home, high under the eaves of the tower, shudders and crumbles slightly.
Rocks, hurled from trebuchets, thunder against the ramparts.
Huge battering rams on giant wheels are trundled forward, crash against the mighty gates.
Arrows pour across the sky in both directions, men screaming in anguish as many find a mark.
Ladders are raised, hooks on ropes flung high, seeking enough purchase to support a man’s weight.
Axes are wielded, climbing attackers plummet to the rocks far below.
As growing numbers of assailants near the top, boiling oil is poured from great vats.
The howls of the grotesquely scalded shatter the afternoon air.
At last evening falls, the aggressors withdraw.
The battle is over till the morrow.
Out of the gloom a twig is borne through the sky.
The swallow swoops, happily, to her nest.

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Magic – Friday Fictioneers

Friday Fictioneers is hosted by the wonderful Rochelle, the undisputed master of what I call Sound Bite Fiction.
She sets the weekly challenge, and the standard.
Today’s photo is by Ted Strutz, and the little tale it inspired back in 2013 provoked some interesting, if bemused, comments.
So here it is again.
The idea, as always, is to write a story of around 100 words based on the picture, below.

©Ted Strutz for Friday Fictioneers

©Ted Strutz for Friday Fictioneers

Click here to hear me read the story, and pronounce the magic word!

Magic

And this ring is more powerful than any of these potions or lotions or …..?

Yes, it is the most potent piece of magic in the shop.

And how does it work exactly?

You just need her to put it on – look, it is very attractive, don’t you agree? – and say the magic word, then she will love you forever. It is totally irreversible.

And what is the magic word?

Let me write that down for you. Don’t want to do anything silly with this on!

How do you pronounce that?

Auchenshuggle.

Oh dear!

Am I prettier than she is?

 

Posted in Sound Bite Fiction | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 28 Comments