Editor Christopher Writes – A Bonus Blog! 02/03/15

Ready for some redaction reduction?

For issue eight, we have an interview with Jasika Nicole. Yes, that Jasika Nicole! Who played Astrid in Fringe, Intern / Mayor Dana in Welcome to Night Vale and does all of the absolutely wonderful things. We have an interview with her! We first got in contact with her about a month ago about some of the creations she was sharing on Twitter – pictures of clothes she had made and what not. We spoke to her on Twitter a little and eventually struck up an email conversation which lead to this! We are so very excited. There may be sweetcorn on the ceiling we are that excited.

There will be more on this tomorrow. It is getting late and I want to write a flash fiction tonight too. As you know, I want to build an intertwining collection. At the moment, I am trying to establish some characters and work it through.

Two

He gets down on his knees to look for a screw. He heard it rattle against the pine floorboards. His delicate fingers pad the wood in the light from the screens, placed in a circle around a lazy-boy chair, illuminating the room – two laptops, three tablets, 5 phones. There is one phone which has been pulled apart on a table in the middle of the circle. This is where the screw has come from. It is small. Almost invisible to the naked eye when it has escaped close attention.

From the kitchen, the sound of a kettle boiling. Just as the bubbling ends, the screw embeds itself in the skin of his middle finger. He stands up and places it in a plastic tub, which is filled with similar screws, a broken screen and several surgically-small screwdrivers. As he walks to the kitchen, he rustles in a carrier bad and pulls out a container of 1kg of mince, left out of refrigeration from slightly too long.

He is greeted in the unventilated kitchen by a fog from the kettle. He leans over the sink and opens the window the clear the air in the room. He then pours the boiled water in a pre-prepared cup of tea, the tea bag, inflating and bobbing. He switches the hob on the cooker to heat up oil in a non-stick frying pan. Once sizzling, he turns to pick the mince up to cook.

It has gone. He checks everywhere. By the kettle, the fridge, where he knows it cannot be. He checks the carrier bag in the living room even though he is certain he brought it into the kitchen. 10 minutes pass and the meat has simply vanished. With a shrug and laugh, he grabs a packet of biscuits from the fruit bowl on the counter-top and returns to his technological haven, eventually falling asleep.

The next day, he leaves for work. As he steps out of the door, he feels a crunch under his foot. He looks down to see the container of mince under his shoe with a bright pink post-it note attached.

‘Found this in the garden this morning. Thought it might be yours. X’

He laughs at this again and closes the door behind him, leaving it on the step as he heads to work.

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