{"id":4570,"date":"2016-02-19T18:15:51","date_gmt":"2016-02-19T23:15:51","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/dsavannah.com\/blog\/?p=4570"},"modified":"2016-02-19T18:15:51","modified_gmt":"2016-02-19T23:15:51","slug":"fictionfriday-looking-for-point-fair","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/dsavannah.com\/blog\/index.php\/fictionfriday-looking-for-point-fair\/","title":{"rendered":"#FictionFriday: Looking for Point Fair"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"blog_logo_FictionFriday\"dSavannah note<\/span>: I’ve been thinking awhile of publishing a series of my stories on Fridays, and calling it #FictionFriday (original, I know). {Upon reflection, I thought maybe I’d gotten it from award-winning writer and editor, Kristine\u00a0Kathryn\u00a0Rusch<\/a>, but turns out her site offers Free Fiction Mondays<\/a>. As well as really informative Business Musings<\/a> for writers. So, I have no idea where I snagged that idea. Thank you to whoever it was.}<\/span><\/p>\n

I have a TON of stories I’ve written, and I might as well do something with them. Yes, I should probably be polishing them up and submitting them to anthologies and contests, but some days (yay, #InvisibleIllness!) I just haven’t got the … wherewithall. And who knows? Maybe I’ll get inspired and start actually writing new stuff.<\/p>\n

I’ve probably stated before that I work best with a deadline. So, I’m giving myself a weekly deadline to work on and post a story. Then I’ll take a page from my writer buddy Chad A. Clark<\/a>‘s book, and publish them all in a collection. Mebbe.<\/p>\n

In the meantime, enjoy the first edition of dSavannah’s #FictionFriday<\/a> with a little sci-fi story, set in the not-too-distant future:<\/p>\n

\n

Looking Toward Point Fair<\/h1>\n

Times shore are hard, but I guess I cain\u2019t reallys complains, likes somes o\u2019 the girls round here can. I gots me a job goin to visit olduns, checks and makes sure they gots enuff vittles and water, checks the seals still be holdin, fuss round \u2019em, and makes \u2019em feels betters, get \u2019em to talk a little \u2019bout themselfs.<\/p>\n

I has to walks most days, but I don\u2019t mind much, unless I forgets my water coll\u2019cter or my mask. The airs outsides ain\u2019t none too cleans or good smellin\u2019, but you betcher water that inside the olduns\u2019 places, it be clean but smells ways worser.<\/p>\n

The olduns cain\u2019t hep it, o\u2019 course \u2013 no ventilations in thems crappy boxes they lives in that gots thrown up years ago by\u2026 well, I don\u2019t recken I know by who, but it don\u2019t matter nuttin. Poor ole souls cain\u2019t even see the sun frin theys rooms, they ain\u2019t even gots winders. Guess whoevers made \u2019em thought it\u2019d purtect them peoples betters, but it don\u2019t. Not reallys. Not atalls.<\/p>\n

At least I can sees the sun an\u2019 dirt an\u2019 skies an\u2019 whatnot when I goes to checks on \u2019em. Not that it\u2019s purty or nuttin, just somepen diffrent.<\/p>\n

You might asks whys I don\u2019t just takes one of \u2019em olduns outsides with me, what harm coold it do? A lots, that\u2019s what. The poor souls would dies rite off. An\u2019 it be my job to makes shore that don\u2019t happen. At least, not until it be there times to dies. The nat\u2019rul time. Ole Clemmy wouldn\u2019t leaves his vigh-olyn anyways. And Miss Peerbird is afeared o\u2019 seein the sky. She won\u2019t tells me whys tho.<\/p>\n

I cain\u2019t blame her or any of thems, what with surviven world war, oh what number it t\u2019was agin? Sixteens? Seventeens? I lost count. Dunno what we be up to eithers. Not that it matters none.<\/p>\n

At least me, sometimes I can catch a rides with Preatcher Skinth when he\u2019s gots to see bout one of \u2019em olduns that\u2019s died. Then I get to set in the back o\u2019 the pick\u2019em\u2019up truck, rattly ole thing, tho it do get me there fasters, and purtend that what\u2019s brushing by is a \u2013 whad\u2019they calls it? A breezind, I thinks, not just the pick\u2019em hurtlin through the thick, moist, somewhat poisened airs.<\/p>\n

Them days I betters wear my mask or I get awwful sicks \u2013 dunno whys ridin\u2019 in the pick\u2019em\u2019up truckdoes that \u2013 and I cain\u2019t go see my olduns and I lose my credits and I\u2019m tryin to save \u2019em up, see, to goes and lives in Point Fair, that I hear is rite nice with reals fresh airs and no masks, and the sun is yeller, not that shade o\u2019 green we sees here.<\/p>\n

Plus, my olduns likes me best of their carers. They tells me so. An I likes \u2019em too. Ole Clemmy sez I remind him o\u2019 his wife, but I know that cain\u2019t be for true, cuz he gots her pitture rite on the box next to where he keeps all his sheets with weird markins that he sez is for his vigh-olyn, and she was what they used to calls an \u201cattracti\u201d. I def\u2019inlys ain\u2019t one of \u2019em. Hell, they ain\u2019t hardly any attractis round no more, all the poisen havin killted off all the purty ones.<\/p>\n

Mebbe the non-purty ones, likes me, knew hows to takes cares of \u2019emselfes, that\u2019s whys. The purty ones made us takes cares of \u2019em, too. So, first signs o\u2019 troobles, them attractis just drop off and dies.<\/p>\n

Now Madamey Ohlive, she\u2019s for a sure an sample o\u2019 dis. Her sister, she tolds me once, was always \u2018the bell o\u2019 the ball\u2019, which makes no senses, and I ain\u2019t sures what a \u2018bell\u2019 be or how it relates to a ball, but I guess it means she big-time attracti, cuz her sister died rite off, and Madamey Ohlive, well, she\u2019s still here. Even had three chillens after that war stopped.<\/p>\n

Course, only one o\u2019 them chillens lived, but stills, more \u2019an her sister had. Which was nuttin. Cuz she dead.<\/p>\n

Lawksamercys, I sound, well, I dunno if a word even be for it. Miss Peerbird, she tells me I\u2019s a \u2018cheerfill one\u2019, which I thinks is diffrent from hows I\u2019s goin on now.<\/p>\n

Anywaysit, ones by ones my olduns dies off. Is bound to happen, I su\u2019pose. They\u2019s in their thirtyeths years. I hear tells hows one ole lady lived to be fourtytwos, but I thinks is\u2019a \u2013 wassa word? \u2013 untrue.<\/p>\n

But is okay. I\u2019s is still young \u2013 elevens \u2013 and likes I sez, soon I\u2019ll have enuff credits to leaves. Preatcher Skinth, he sez he\u2019s been to Point Fair, and he\u2019ll drive me, tho t\u2019will cost me dear. I don\u2019t quite understands what he means, an plus he looks at me funnys when he sez that, likes up and down, his eyes kinda weirds and far off, likes he breathed too much airs without his mask.<\/p>\n

He tells me when I\u2019m twelves, I shoold be ready. That I\u2019ll be ready for him, ready to leaves, and all my olduns gone.<\/p>\n

He\u2019s prolly rite. He\u2019s been round longers than me \u2013 he\u2019s nineteens. And he can get that pick\u2019em\u2019up truck to work when no one else can. That\u2019s whys it\u2019s his. Plus, I ain\u2019t seen no twelves round here in a long times. So he prolly tooked thems.<\/p>\n

I\u2019m a tellin you dis at the end o\u2019 visiting my olduns. Preatcher just dropped me off, and I walks into my room. I takes off my masks, checks the seals, pulls some jerkey Preatcher gived me out my bag (and I didn\u2019t asks what kinds; prolly good idear, from what peoples sez bout him). I looks round my winderless space, and thinks \u2018I\u2019m home\u2019.<\/p>\n

\u2018Justs for now\u2019.<\/p>\n

\u00a9 D. Savannah George 2016<\/address>\n
\n

I don’t really like “Point Fair” as the name of my ‘mythical’ town, but I can’t think of anything else. If any of my reader(s) have ideas for me, I’m willing to listen. \ud83d\ude42<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

dSavannah note: I’ve been thinking awhile of publishing a series of my stories on Fridays, and calling it #FictionFriday (original, I know). {Upon reflection, I thought maybe I’d gotten it from award-winning writer and editor, Kristine\u00a0Kathryn\u00a0Rusch, but turns out her … Continue reading →<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[116,14,87,101,13,5],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-4570","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-fictionfriday","category-fantasy","category-fiction","category-myth","category-sci-fi","category-writing"],"yoast_head":"\n#FictionFriday: Looking for Point Fair - 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