Between the overtime at work running me ragged, gift shopping and the family visits, I haven't had time to visit Old Randall. I've written nothing more on Korptopia as a result. But a short story jumped into my head driving home from the kids' place last week, and I've been trying to pen it before month's end. Inklings Press is accepting submissions for a short story anthology by then, but time's basically up, and I'm only halfway done.
I'm finishing it, but I doubt I'll have it done until next week. Maybe, if I'm happy with it, I'll shop it around. Any suggestions?
Regardless, I have several other short story ideas. Perhaps I'll self-publish an anthology when I hit 90,000 words.
The story is named Dream Job. It centres around Harry, a young, listless alcoholic who suddenly has to survive the apocalypse.
Harry lay on the frozen ground near the old observatory. He was not alone. Bodies were sprawled all around him, massacred by awe at the unusual sky. Exhaled icy puffs were their only sign of life. Above them dozens of comets blazed their trails.
Harry lived alone in the somewhat dilapidated family home. He had no siblings. His mother had long since moved on. When he was eighteen his abusive father collapsed during the sixth episode of the first season. They had tried to restart daddy’s fermented middle-aged heart, but its warranty had been voided by years of excess. Harry was the sole heir, left with the house, the car and the family misfortune.
For a few days, various municipal employees came and went. Some supplies were dropped off. But, after a week, there was no one.
That's it so far. I won't blog more of it. The rest, if you want to read, will have to wait until I publish it.
Update: Well, I couldn't make the deadline. And this turned into a huge idea in my head, about three books long. I'm beginning to wonder if I have what it takes to write short stories.