Fun with Flash Fiction
The amazingly talented and super kind Nina D'Arcangela has been doing a flash fiction project that has helped feed my fun in writing. She sends an image and we write a piece of flash inspired by the picture.
I've really been enjoying it. I've been inspired to use this sort of flash on rough days to get my creativity flowing again. If I'm feeling blocked I'll find an image that sparks something in me and write a short 300-500 words just to get the mojo flowing. (Bless you, Nina!)
Below is the image I used today and the story I created from it. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.
Ghostly Passengers
Jaime Johnesee
I've really been enjoying it. I've been inspired to use this sort of flash on rough days to get my creativity flowing again. If I'm feeling blocked I'll find an image that sparks something in me and write a short 300-500 words just to get the mojo flowing. (Bless you, Nina!)
Below is the image I used today and the story I created from it. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.
This is Michigan Central Station in Detroit |
Ghostly Passengers
Jaime Johnesee
The dilapidated halls echo in disconcerting ways and as I move
through the ruins of the once grand Michigan Central Station I can almost hear
the whispers of boarding calls from days long past.
A rat or cat, I can't tell which, runs by, startled by my
presence.
Unfazed, I marvel at the Beaux-Arts beauty around me and
dream of what she was like in her heyday. She had once been the place to go for
travel and meeting people in Detroit. Now, she sits and rots whilst they fight
over whether to tear her down or renovate her.
She's sat in this stagnate state
since 1988, dying slowly day by day.
Inside, the sound of creatures rustling replaces the
cacophony of noise that once accompanied the bustle of train travel in this
city. Sadly, we've given up the slow and romantic notions of traveling the
country by train in favor of the faster, more efficient plane.
There may not be people rushing through its corridors but
the stately old building still retains her elegance and grandeur. You can feel
the energy still pulsing through her, saved up over the years from all the
travelers, those both weary and excited to be on the move.
She sits and continues to love a city that turned their back
on her. She continues to hope for resurrection at their hands even as they
slowly kill her with neglect. Those of us who love her hope someone will come
along to rescue her, but—after forty years—it doesn't seem likely. She shall
continue to rot broken and not-quite-alone, filled with rodents, ghostly
passengers, and memories of days long dead.