I’d like to kick off this edition of Ink & Shadow by sharing the link to Five Millimetres From The Rim, which was published by Literally Stories on July 9th.
You can read it here
And now, without further ado, I bring you this month’s microfiction.
As always, the stories will be available to read for 30 days before they are sealed inside the paid Ink & Shadow Vault on The Book Bump.
Grab a cuppa, step inside, and enjoy.
The Visual Representation of Procrastination
By Charlotte L. SWORN
“It’s in the crap drawer.”
Translation: What you seek has vanished into the black hole that all kitchens possess. Except maybe your nan. Nans have places for everything. Including a mugful of pens that don’t work unless you lick the tip.
“The crap drawer needs sorting.”
The worst moment in anybody’s life, bar one. But let’s not think about that… yet.
The crap drawer, also known as the visual representation of procrastination.
Never a good time to go traipsing through its contents. Only the bravest take on the crap drawer. Like dark knights on an epic quest into territories unknown, forsaken and forgotten.
It’s stiff and doesn’t open properly. Jiggling it only makes it worse.
Wrestling with the crap drawer is like trying to play tug-of-war with a Basset Hound. Those droopy, soulful eyes, silently pleading with you:
Let it be. It’s not worth it. Isn’t there something better you could be doing?
You close your eyes to block out the temptation. A screw comes loose.
The drawer clatters open. Gasping, it exhales years of delayed decisions. Takeaway menus burst into the air. Anyone for a curry? Didn’t that place close?
A pen from the last election, which belongs in your nan’s mug, rolls under the counter.
With squinted eyes, the drawer looks like an impressionist painting. Modern art? What would I know?
The topsoil is littered with more rumpled pamphlets and paperclips, receipts for appliance warranties long since thrown away. But you never know. It could come in handy.
Excavating further, keys to nothing jingle against coins in the currency of a country you’ll never visit again. Why keep the key? One day, a lock may turn up. Imagine the meet-cute.
Nail clippers and tweezers lie in an oozing, rust-stained puddle. Stuck. Blunt. No grip left. Cotton buds gathering dust.
The crap drawer requires small decisions – ones that can be made in a split second. Although they are often followed by an eternity of regret.
My eyes rest on the littlest Matryoshka doll. I found it only yesterday, covered in dust, behind the sofa. A shriek of elation escaped my lips before I remembered I had binned the rest last week.
I only wanted to find my permit for the local tip. Why? It’s not like the crap in the drawer requires a trip to the dump.
The only thing worse than sorting the crap drawer is its inevitable sequel.
The garage.
Author’s Note:
This piece is a little different from my usual style. It’s a quirky, observational slice of life to mix things up a little. There’s nothing like a bit of comedy writing to lighten the mood when your own WIP gets a bit heavy.
(If you’re wondering whether it’s autobiographical… My lips are sealed! But we don’t mention the garage in this house!)
It originally went out to a few literary journals and didn’t quite find its home there. But I love it too much to leave it gathering dust in a digital drawer, so I decided to share it with you all here instead.
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