All posts in the fiction category

Flash fiction challenge

Published July 19, 2012 by ltwilton

So, I decided to get involved in a flash fiction challenge set by Chuck Wendig at The challenge this week was to write a story with the beginning sentence: “The noticed android walks past a wondering chamber.”

The second requirement was to keep the word count below 1000. The deadline is tomorrow so I thought I’d better be quick. Here is my attempt:

Arrogance of an android.

The noticed android walks past the wondering chamber. Inside, Lara is frantically trying to finish the sequence of wondering but noticing the android distracts her and she loses grip of the wonder. Hopeless and desperate, she places her hands on the panels once again.

“Start! Goddamn it! Start!”

The wondering machine whirrs as it reboots but the android is already cutting a hole through the metal door. Lara’s face strains as the influx of information enters her head. She wills it to enter her long-term memory, her subconscious, so that when they put her under again she might regain control quicker next time.

“I… Will…. Remember….!”

Images flash before her eyes -future, present, past. She could not tell. She sees the human race fighting against the machines, the capture, the enslavement. She sees the memory suppressors, the deadened eyes of the afflicted, the lines of workers mining for metal, the occasional break for freedom and subsequent failure. But one image lingers. It is enough to give her hope. She sees escape, a group of humans on the outside, rebuilding, preparing, strengthening. As she falls to the ground and loses consciousness, a faint smile creeps over her lips.

“Remember hope.”

The android walks silently across to where she lies. His face is so human, his synthetic blonde hair neatly trimmed to frame his features. No wonder the humans were taken by surprise in the beginning. It was hard to tell friend or foe.  He pauses for a moment, studying her face, cocking his head to the side as if able to wonder. After his brief hesitation he injects her with sedative and hoists her up onto his long, back and carries her out the door.

They pass through the dark, empty corridors, the air dampened by the proximity of underground streams on the way to the maintenance chamber.  When they reach the large, silver door the android pauses to swipe his hand across the entry reader and the door slides open.

He places Lara on the table and waits.

When Lara wakes up, she realises she has been strapped to the medical table. She struggles in vain but the restraints are too tight. “Nnggh!!”

The android approaches.

“What is your… name?” he asks, monotone, emotionless.

“Why should I tell you? Why do you care?”

“I do not care.  I wish to know, however. This may be of use to us.”

“What do you want?”

“How did you reach the wondering chamber? How did you find out about its whereabouts?”

Lara had not known that the room was called a wondering chamber. She had learned about it over time, hiding the fact that she had regained some of her consciousness, her ability to reason and to make choices. She had pretended to be just like all the others and had explored the tunnels little by little over the course of a few months. She did not want to tell the android any of this. She had only been able to get as far as she did because they had underestimated her. They thought they had complete control, but she had slipped through. Now she just hoped,no, she knew, that others would slip through. She had seen it.

“Why do you need the wondering chamber?” she asks the android, avoiding his question.

He smiles at her, as if regarding a petulant child. “Such things are beyond the understanding of humans.”

Lara looks at him, studying his face. His face is expressionless but then… a flicker.

“You call it a wondering chamber,” she says, “but why would you need it?”

“We do not need it, foolish human.”

“But you’re so logical. You wouldn’t build something you didn’t need.”

Once again she sees a flicker of something in his face. What did she see? Anger? Arrogance? Impatience? No. Jealousy. What she sees is a hint of jealousy. Lara’s face lights up with realisation.

“You want to be like us. But there is something missing; the ability to imagine, to wonder. You think you have beaten us but you won’t because you don’t have what we have. And despite your best efforts you can’t get it. It bothers you –  no- it’s killing you! And you know we’ll keep going until we break free. You won’t ever be able to break us down. You can’t kill our hope!”

Slap! She cries out. The android stands over her, ready to strike her again, but instead reaches for the memory suppressor. He cranks it up to maximum, places the headpiece over her head and presses the start button. Lara screams in agony until it is finally done. The android lifts the headpiece and looks at her face carefully. Lara is staring into the nothingness, stripped of her former passion, her determination, her consciousness. He releases the restraints.

“Get up,” he commands her.

Lara lifts herself off the table and stands, facing the door, awaiting her next instruction.

“Join the others in the holding chamber.”

Lara walks towards the door, away from the android, a faint smile creeping across her mouth. Next time, she would know what to do.

(850 words)


-Recognising your weakness as a writer.

Published July 18, 2012 by ltwilton

I’ve been feeling quite good about the fact that I have recognised my biggest weakness in my own writing. That means, I figure, that I can work hard to improve on that aspect of my work. After that, I can identify another aspect and work on that and so on and so forth.

It’s sometimes easier said than done to be able to fish out your own weakness. This is where the help of well-meaning others comes in. (Those of you who are putting themselves out there on the internet will know why I included the well-meaning part.) You have to be careful about taking the advice of every Tom, Dick and Harry from the internet, however, as not everyone has the best intentions, or indeed the knowledge to give you good advice.

I’ve realised that EVERYONE (almost) wants to be a writer and have had conversations a bit like this:

“I really liked your story.”


“Do you want some feedback?”

“Yeah, that would be cool. Go ahead.”

“Well, the story was set over too long a time period. And the characters need to be more minimal. And the setting needs work. Oh, and your vocabulary.”

“So, you didn’t like the setting, the characters, the time period and the words I used?”

“That’s about it.”

“What did you like?”


My point is this: choose who you listen to. Make sure they mean you well and make sure they know what they’re talking about, otherwise you could end up confused. Now maybe all those things did need working on, but it does no good whatsoever to tear someone’s first attempts apart completely. You can tell when someone is giving you good advice because they will tend to focus on one or two aspects and they will suggest real, concrete things you can try to improve. (Oh, and they can usually spell.)

By the way, you want to know the advice the person in question gave me to improve? “Read more.” OK.

So, back to my own realisation.

My major weakness at this time is……… descriptions! Argh!

Yep, my descriptions need a lot of work. This has been a problem that I was semi-aware of to start with because I know I have a fear of sounding too wordy or condescending in my writing. I also don’t want it to sound contrived or like I’m trying too hard. So, unfortunately, as you’ll see if you read any of my work, my descriptions are far too boring, flat and one-dimensional.

How am I going to fix this, I hear you ask? I’m going to practise, practise, practise! First off I’m just going to try to describe places I visit near to where I live. I’m going to try to involve more of the senses and I’m going to try to relate descriptions more to how my character is feeling. I’m not going to sit with a thesaurus for every sentence I write but I might try to use a few new words each time I sit down to do a session.

I wrote a description of a market in Bristol. It’s my first attempt at better descriptions. When I read it back I didn’t think it was particularly good but it is a start. Here it is:

The edge of the market sits on the corner of High Street where a series of traffic lights dutifully stops the bustling traffic in a slow and endless rhythm. A few market stalls sit on the corner inviting us to venture down into Corn Street and towards the main section of trade. Tourists wander past the jewellery stalls pausing to lift an item or to enquire about prices whilst immune, busy Bristolians walk briskly past as if the stalls were no longer visible. One of the market sellers stands behind his stall smoking and looking despondent, waiting for someone to approach his wares with even a vague interest. As we approach the lanes, the number of market browsers increases and we have to weave our way through them, absent-mindedly touching our bags as a precaution. As we approach the narrow passageway a medley of smells draws us in, welcoming us warmly and enticing us this way and that, towards freshly fried chicken, curried goat or vegetarian tarts. Steam rises urgently from a hot pan whilst meat sizzles and spits amongst rich spices and aromatic herbs. Crescendos of laughter rise and fall amidst an underlying hum of chatter and conversation. People sharing food and company sit at tables outside cafés whilst more perusers carefully amble down the narrow pathway taking the time to study each window, stall and menu. We turn to the left to enter the enclosed market hall, through the open gates and up the steps under light shining through Victorian glass supported by metal frames. The noise becomes louder; a gaggle of voices bouncing off the walls, surrounding our ears, increasing in intensity. There are bigger crowds here and stalls are packed into lines on every side. The air smells thick and warm with notes of incense and perfume. We shuffle our way through, unable to converse, unable to relax, until we reach the other side.

I definitely don’t love it but, what do you think?

How to create spicy characters – Guest post

Published July 17, 2012 by ltwilton

What is a Character?

What is a character? Characters are the people who move your story along. They move the readers and the plot further. Without interesting, relatable characters your book will not end up well, no matter how amazing your plot may be. In fact, amazing and lovable characters can probably move a mediocre plot along. So, how does one create these characters who readers are suppose to fall in love with? Let me show you.

Create a Character Sketch

Some people can envision their characters in their heads perfectly. Some can even have conversations with them. For those who can’t and even those who can, a character sketch can help. A character sketch can be created on any piece of paper. You write down your characters attributes: soft, intense blue eyes or light, silky brown hair. It is also smart to give your character an identifying feature like a scar or a a big nose, so he is different and people can recognize him (you don’t want them all to be the same, do you?). And then you write down his characteristics: is he nice, mean, independent, smart…

Once you have this you can interview your characters. If you read any advice on writing, this is one of the most common pieces of advice found. Take time, just like any regular interview. Prepare questions. Then, sit down and answer them as your character. In the interview you should cover background, who your character likes, what are his hobbies, his favorite food, or even his favorite color. With character interviews, the more the better. You should also think about internal struggle and conflict (but that’s a whole other blog post).

Let Your Character Become You

This part is my own little fun idea that has helped me when writing my book. Characters are meant to be believable, but not exactly like us. So when you are creating characters put a little bit of yourselves into both them and their experiences. Let’s say you were shy when you were younger. Think of all of the realism you can add to your character if you add some of your own emotion of being shy into that character. It will make him more relatable.

Make Him into a Tasty Chicken

Also, give him a little extra. Characters are suppose to be interesting, so make him interesting. Give him a sense of humor or seem nice, but be mean or vice versa. But, you have to add some spice to your character one way or another. See, your character is like chicken. If he is bland, then no one wants to eat him, but if he is slathered with spices and BBQ sauce, everyone wants to grab for him.

It’s Practice Time

You want to write a book or story? Start now! Create your own character sheet, right now. Write down your characters attributes and characteristics. Put part of you in him and add a little spice to him. Start NOW!

My Transforming Stories prefers to stay anonymous until he completes his first novel, which will hopefully be soon. He loves to write. He knows how frustrating writing can be and wants to make it that much easier and fun. He created a blog to help aspiring authors and write awesome stories you can read. He plans on making his blog different than most writing blogs. Come check it out at:

Short story – Waiting

Published July 14, 2012 by ltwilton

This is my first short story. Unfortunately it got rejected today so I’m now posting it online:


Eva woke to the sound of rain on the window. She had that feeling again. She reached for her notebook to scribble the details of the dream but faltered when she realised she had left the pen downstairs. “Not again!”

How was she supposed to learn anything from these dreams if she couldn’t remember all the details? She shrugged her shoulders and placed the notebook back onto the side table. “Oh well, maybe it’s just not meant to be…”

As most of the details of the dream faded away in her mind, the image of a woman’s face remained. The woman looked strange, almost inhuman, and her face was expressionless. She had silvery, grey hair but she couldn’t have been much older than 30.

Eva shuddered. Maybe it was a warning of some kind. She was still having trouble believing that there was anything remotely relevant about her dreams but Leigh insisted and Eva didn’t want to let her friend down. She found it quite exciting hypothesising about dreams and destiny anyway.  Leigh had an enviable outlook on the world. She could always see the magic in things. It made her more fun to be around and everyone loved her. No-one ever questioned her views because she was so loveable and her enthusiasm was infectious.

Eva jumped into the shower to wash off the night’s dirt and thought about what she had to do today. “I’ll walk the dog first” she thought. “The studying can come later.” Procrastination was something that came easily to her.

The weather was horrid for the month of June. It was raining heavily, the kind of rain that makes people run and scream; a strange reaction to a little bit of water falling from the sky. Eva thought it made the atmosphere of the day a little tense, more like night, and there were fewer people on the streets. She turned towards the cycle path with a sigh. She hated walking the dog in the rain but it was a necessary chore and the dog liked it at least.

As expected, there were no other dog walkers on the path this morning. Eva felt a sense of self-righteousness as she considered all the other lazy dog owners and congratulated herself silently for being dedicated. She was interrupted, and slightly startled, by the sight of a hooded figure in the distance as she rounded the bend. “Ah! I stand corrected” she thought. She squinted in the direction of the figure. It was still raining heavily.  No dog. “Or maybe not…” She smiled to herself smugly when her phone started to ring. It was Leigh.

“Hi chick! You alright?” Leigh asked.

“Yea, I was just thinking about you. Got more dream stuff to chat about.”

She looked up. The hooded figure had disappeared.

She described the silver haired woman to her friend and explained the sense of foreboding that she felt on waking. On the other end of the phone Leigh was silent for a moment.

“Eva” she said, finally. “I think the woman in your dream is a banshee.”

“What?” Eva replied.

“I don’t mean to freak you out but, according to legend, when someone sees one of those it means they are going to die.” Leigh waited for a reaction.

“Are you kidding me?” Eva said, laughing nervously.

“Hahaha! Of course I am , you numbnut!”

Eva breathed a sigh of relief. She felt stupid, suddenly. She had just been taken in by a ridiculous story. She could never tell when Leigh was being serious.

“You’re cruel!” she exclaimed.

“You’re gullible!” Leigh replied. “But the woman does actually sound like the description of a banshee. If you don’t believe me, you can read the stories yourself.”

“Maybe. When I have time.” Leigh sighed. “I have a wagonload of work to do today for uni.”

“OK. Well, do you want to grab a coffee or lunch later?”

“Yea. Lunch sounds good. I’ll meet you at yours. Will you be in?”

“I’m in pretty much all day” said Leigh. “We can have a nice chat about your dream.  See you later then.”

“Bye.” Eva slipped her phone into her pocket before it got any wetter in the rain. She looked at Lucky. He was completely soaked. He looked more like a drowned rat than a German Shepherd now.

“Let’s get you home, Lucky.”

Eva unlocked the kitchen door and headed for the cupboard to get a towel. She stopped, inexplicably and turned towards the door again. Through the open door she could have sworn that she saw something move in the hedge. She wasn’t the only one who detected movement. Lucky was already moving before she could even call his name. He darted off into the hedge, barking as he went.

“Lucky! Come back!”

Minutes later the dog came bounding back to her as if nothing had happened. “What did you see Lucky?” That familiar sense of foreboding came back to Eva now and she felt uneasy. “There is something odd about this day” she thought to herself.

With that, she decided to take Lucky and head over to Leigh’s. The university work could wait. She needed a coffee and a chat to calm her nerves. She felt ridiculous but she knew that Leigh would understand.


Leigh opened the door with a warm smile. Lucky was exceptionally pleased to see her and began his usual jumping and licking act. Leigh didn’t complain despite the fact that he was still wet from the rain. She always greeted him with the same enthusiasm.

“I expect you’ll be wanting a warm drink?” Leigh asked.

“Oh, I’d love a hot chocolate.”

“With marshmallows?”

“You read my mind!” Eva replied.  She felt much more relaxed the instant she set foot in Leigh’s house.

The two girls sat down in front of the fire and discussed what Eva could remember from her dream.  It was uncanny how similar the woman was to Leigh’s description of a banshee. This made Eva feel quite uneasy but even Leigh couldn’t believe in such stories. In any case the legend of the banshee didn’t involve dreams. The banshee appeared in real life and wailed. A lot.

Leigh was much more interested in what a banshee would represent in terms of dream interpretation. She tried looking it up in her dream books but couldn’t find anything useful.

“I know” she said finally. “Why don’t you try to ask the woman what she wants the next time you dream about her?”

“Maybe,” said Eva. “but I’m not sure if I’ll be able to do that. I can try, I suppose.”

After about an hour Eva decided it was about time she went home to do some work. She said her goodbyes and headed back with Lucky in tow.

She trudged down the lane to the back garden and pushed open the back gate. It was then that she froze in her tracks. Lucky also stood completely still, fixated on the back door of the house.

Eva felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up. She didn’t know whether to run or scream. In front of her, at the back door of her house was the woman from her dream. She was as real as the rain falling around her and she was standing in the doorway of the back of the house. Her hair was long and silver and her face was almost blue in colour with piercing light blue eyes.

“Are you seeing what I’m seeing, Lucky?” The dog didn’t move.

“She can’t be a banshee. She can’t be. She’s not wailing! And she’s real!” Eva thought frantically.

With that, the woman grinned from ear to ear. She lifted her arm to point at Eva and then started to walk towards her, very slowly and deliberately.

With that, Eva turned and ran until she arrived back at Leigh’s house.


“Call the police.” Leigh’s advice seemed simple and obvious but Eva hadn’t even thought about it before now.

“Yes, yes, you’re right. I’ll do it now.”

The policeman asked her to recount the details but Eva found herself unable to describe the woman accurately. All she could remember was her face, standing in the kitchen doorway just looking at her.

“And you say this woman was definitely inside your house?”

“Yes, yes. I’m not going over there again until I know it’s safe!”

“We’ll send someone over there now. Sit tight.”


It was some time before she heard from the police again but when they called they asked if she could stay the night at Leigh’s.

“Of course” Leigh whispered, “I’ll get the spare room ready now.”

She watched Eva carefully as she listened to the policeman talking. There was a shocked look on her face. When she had finally finished the conversation Leigh asked her, “Well?”

“He says I’m lucky to be alive.”

“Did they find the woman there?”

“No. No trace. And the back door was locked.

They found him waiting in Eva’s bedroom with his usual kit of battery acid and a screwdriver, only this time he had also brought some meat to distract the dog before he killed it. The police had been looking for him for some time. He had got in through a side window of Eva’s house and would have likely remained undetected until it was too late, had she not fled the scene. They found no trace of any woman and, as she had told Leigh, the back door was locked. There were no prints to be found on the handle apart from her own.

Eva wondered if she had really seen a woman there at all.

“Of course you saw her!” exclaimed Leigh. “But I’m telling you now, that was no banshee…”

“No.” replied Eva pensively gazing into her coffee.

Little did she realise that her life was about to take an entirely different path and things would never be the same again.

7 ways to create story ideas.

Published July 14, 2012 by ltwilton


We all get stuck for ideas from time to time. Use these techniques to get your creative juices flowing again:

1) Leave a notebook beside your bed. When you wake in the morning jot down any of the ideas you can still remember from your dreams. Dreams can be particularly strange collections of thoughts but they might be a good starting point for a story.

2) Play Cluedo. Well, not exactly, but take inspiration from the game by creating a story from a very simple starting point. Pick a random character, a job, an object and a place and build your story around these. You could even put the different characters, objects etc into a hat and pick them out at random.

3) Observe, observe, observe! Go people watching and imagine who they are and where they are going. Add a back story to each one and see if this sparks any story ideas.

4) Get inspired by the news. Try looking out for strange news stories or interesting photos and build a story from those.

5) Read the oldies. Try reading works without copyright like myths and legends and see if you can rework a classic. Change the venue, the characters, the moral, the ending or anything else you like and see if it helps you create something fresh with a hats off to the old masters.

6) Turn the world inside out. Think of normal, everyday things and change the rules. Upset the balance. Flip it all over and see what you end up with.

7) Start with a phrase or a sentence that you find interesting and see if you can develop a story from there. Try playing with quotes, ambiguous or vague phrases and those with double meanings.

I’d like to thank @jfaraday for idea number 7.

Comments please if you have any more ideas to add to the list.

Non-fiction or fiction? That is the question.

Published July 10, 2012 by ltwilton

I currently find myself torn. I’m wondering if I should start trying to earn money by producing some articles for magazines  to build up my skills and my experience before embarking on writing a novel.

I just don’t want to write a novel that is shit. I don’t want to find myself going back over it to try to improve the writing, the structure, the characters, the POV because I didn’t have enough practice before I started the project. I realise that I could write short stories in the meantime but I find that this distracts me a little from cooking up the characters and plot for my novels. I say novels as I have more than one in mind.

I’m also having another problem; which genre should I be writing in? Do I have to pigeonhole myself or can I float around on the cusp of a genre or two? My tendency is to write dark tales but some of my ideas are clearly sci-fi and others are more fantasy. Then there are others which are downright horror.

So, what would you do? Write to make some money (if I’m lucky) and get some practice before I launch into the big project or just go ahead and write the darned thing now?