SORRY!!! This was supposed to go up at midnight, but I don’t know from military time. Lucky I woke up early!
If you don’t know who Damyanti Biswas is, I’m extremely pleased to introduce you to her. She’s the most amazing writer I know.
We only “met” last April during Arlee Bird‘s A-to-Z Challenge, during which participants were to post to their blogs every day. Damyanti responded to the challenge by writing a piece of flash fiction. Every. Day.
Her work was so wonderful, the entire world (or at least the part of it lucky enough to be reading her blog) encouraged her to turn the posts into a book. She did that, and she’s here today to talk about it.
And she brought me a birthday present! Best. Present. EVER!
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First of all, let me thank Marian for having me on her blog. She’s been a kind friend, and has always supported my attempts at flash fiction, and so today I’ll write another one for her. This piece could also be considered an excerpt from my novel WIP which I’m writing with a few of the characters I created in my collection A to Z Stories of Life and Death.
So here goes:
His right arm is a little longer than the other. Not so much that it affects his grip on my waist, but enough that he wears full-sleeved shirts all the time. His latest girlfriend, that curly-haired, over-the-hill slut, finds it cute that he is shy about his gangly arms, but that’s because she hasn’t yet seen him naked, which is good for her. He always takes her in the dark, with me or one my sisters watching by the bedside.
No woman would step near his heart, we make sure of that. After all these years with him I’m not sure he has a heart, the way he opens women up. He tells us we make him do it, that it is our edges that push him over the edge. But I, Churi, am steel, as are all my sisters. I’m cold, heavy, sharp, gleaming–I do not like blood, it stains my body. I’d rather be a paperweight, a bunch of bracelets, a pot or pan, part of a column that holds up a building, anything but a weapon.
But that is what I am, a weapon. Sometimes I feel, especially when that woman is around me, that I have Intention. That his mind has flown into my veins and not retreated entirely, and the coolness of my metal now seeks the warmth of her blood. That his mind would remember itself, and call upon me to draw a choker of rubies on her throat. Maybe as I lie watching them tonight. It is, after all, only a matter of time.
If this piece makes you curious about my work, check out A to Z Stories of Life and Death. Churi and her owner do not feature in it, but some of their victims do.
To give you an idea about the book, here’s the blurb:
Twenty-six A to Z stories, based on the twenty-six letters of the alphabet, question our moral compass: How do you judge a teacher toying with the sexuality of her teenaged student? A boy who decides to murder his mother? What thoughts rage inside a pedophile serial killer before he shoots himself? They challenge the concepts of beauty, truth, and morality, by revealing the face of the other side.
The stories focus on a crucial juncture when a character’s life changes, for the better or worse, because of a choice or decision. Some of the characters in the stories confront death, others talk about life with its quirks and whimsies. Each voice, ranging in age from a six-year-old to a centenarian, has its own riveting story to tell. Together, this collection of stories at over 12000 words attempts to prove that when it comes to stories, depth can sometimes replace length and breadth.
Writer Bio: Damyanti lives more in her head than in this world, adores her husband, and loves her pet fish and plants. She is an established writer for magazines and journals. Her short fiction has been published in the Quarterly Literary Review Singapore, Muse India and in print anthologies by Marshall Cavendish, Monsoon Books, and MPH publications. Her book, A to Z Stories of Life and Death, is available for download at Kindle, Smashwords, Nook and Diesel.
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Thank you, thank you, thank you!
WRITING PROMPT: Write a paragraph from the point of view of an object.