Category Archives: Visual Fiction

April 7, 2013

Blue Storm – Visual Fiction

For those who are new to my blog, I do a Visual Fiction flash fiction every Sunday, based around a picture of mine that I find inspiring. If you’d like to join me in this, feel free to use the picture to write your own story. Just give me the link to yours in the comments, since I’d love to read it. I write stories of all genres and moods, although this one happens to be rather dark.

Taken in Jeonju, South Korea

I knew that magic had a price, but it never occurred to me that it might extend beyond the one foolish enough to try to wield it.

“Jules, you’re mad! Quit it!” I shouted, trying to be heard above the rising winds. Jules was standing in the circle he had drawn in the forest clearing, shaking convulsively. At the time, I thought it was some sort of ecstasy of unholy power, but now that I reflect, it looked more like a person who has grabbed onto an electric fence and has tapped into a source of power far too vast for them to handle.

I ran, just as the clouds overhead began to seethe and spread a poisonous blue hue across the sky. It moved faster than I, and by the time I returned to my apartment, it had covered the city. A rift of dazzling light appeared in it and the last thing I saw before I shut and locked my door was a rain of dark objects beginning to fall.

It has been two days. I have not heard from Jules, but if he is dead, he is lucky. The city is in a panic at the unearthly scourge that has overrun it. There are many names for them: imps, goblins, demons. No one knows what they are, only that they are incredibly hard, if not impossible, to kill.

I sit and cower at home now, regretting any part I played in Jules’ mad schemes. I know that if they should find me, the concrete walls of my apartment will offer me little protection. Still, I wait and pray that this storm, like all others, might eventually pass.

27 Comments | tags: clouds, demons, fantasy, fear, fiction, flash fiction, Jeonju, Korea, lovecraft, magic, monster, photograph, storm, visual fiction | posted in Visual Fiction

March 24, 2013

Slumming on the Ceiling – Visual Fiction

By David Stewart

Taken in Daejeon, South Korea

Drunk. Bum. Loser. Deadbeat.

Freddie had heard them all and much worse as he sat in his underpass and watched people go by. He had a battered cardboard box in front of him with a few coins in it. Occasionally, more would be thrown in, but not usually. If the police chased him out, he waited until they walked away and then went back.

Thursday night had started as a good night. He had been able to buy a bottle of cheap liquor and had found a new blanket in a donation box. Half the bottle was gone when he suddenly began to feel lighter. Light began to filter in through the stairwells, increasing until it became as bright as day.

This is it, he thought. The angels, the angels are coming for me at last. One too many brown bag comforts, I suppose.

Freddie rose off the floor, floating up until he hit the ceiling. His perspective shifted and he found that the ceiling was now down for him, while the floor was above him. He sat in surprise and watched his handful of coins disappear into a light fixture. He tried to get them but burned his hand. It didn’t seem like he was dead.

With a shrug, he took a swig from the bottle and laid down on the ceiling. Freddie was used to life handing him surprises. Might as well make the best of it.

~*~

This is an alternate perspective on a couple of other stories I did, called What is it? and Why it’s bad to destroy the Earth.

11 Comments | tags: aliens, bum, fiction, homeless, Korea, photograph, science fiction, underpass, visual fiction | posted in Visual Fiction

March 17, 2013

The Sundering Fog – Visual Fiction #22

By David Stewart

This visual fiction is the second picture I’ve used of this bridge. I like the fog on it, since it gives a much different feel. Plus, the first Visual Fiction I did, The Bridge, didn’t have a story with it. This story is the beginning of a longer one I might write sometime.

Taken in Wanju, South Korea

The last time I saw my son Seth was when I sent him over the bridge to go to school. The first day of Grade 4. I should have gone with him all the way to school, but that’s easy to say now. He wouldn’t have wanted me to anyway; he was so independent and on that day what he really wanted to do was cross the bridge by himself. I waved good-bye and watched as he disappeared into the fog.

I started my shift at the garage. From where I worked I could see across the river to the island where half the town was located, including the school. The fog usually burned off by about ten but that day it remaining like a blanket on the river.

About 11:00, there was a sudden crash; not an explosion, but a rending, tearing sound, as loud as a jet engine. Everyone ran outside, looking here and there and trying to figure out what had happened, until Randall Haskins tried to drive over to the pharmacy, across the bridge. I heard the sound of screeching tires and then Randall’s hysterical voice shouting, “The bridge! The bridge is gone.”

It wasn’t gone, but there was a large hole ripped from the center span of it, at least fifty feet wide. No one could see any reason for it, nor was there any concrete or rubble in the water below. The police chief took a couple of men and motored across in a boat to check on things on the other side.

They never came back. They didn’t even radio in after they went onshore. Another boat went over and the same thing happened. In total, seven boats went to the island that day and none of them were ever seen again. The police cordoned off the shore on both sides of the river all around the island and prevented anyone else from trying to go over there.

The fog cleared up the next day and we all saw the island sitting there in the river. Not a single person was visible all that day. The next day, the national guard sent four boats of armed soldiers across. We watched them with binoculars as they searched the streets. They reported back that no one was there, but we noticed as we watched that as they went in and out of the buildings, their number slowly decreased. Sometimes men would go into a building and not come out again. The men on shore tried to warn them, but they couldn’t get through and eventually the soldiers all went into buildings and disappeared.

Now the island just sits there, off limits to everyone. I stare obsessively at it whenever I can, trying to catch any glimpse of movement, trying to see my Seth. I can’t help it. I almost welcome the foggy days, when the misty white curtain obscures my view and numbs my pain and nagging worry, at least for a little while.

13 Comments | tags: bridge, creepy, fantasy, fiction, flash fiction, horror, Korea, missing, photograph, son, visual fiction | posted in Visual Fiction

March 3, 2013

Mirror Ball – Visual Fiction #21

By David Stewart

This week’s visual fiction is a bit different than most. It’s a bit longer and darker. I hope you like it.

taken in Changwon, South Korea

They say you can’t see yourself in the mirror ball in the park, and for once “they” are right. I don’t know how he did it–the anonymous artist who designed it–but no matter how close you get to it, you’re invisible. You can see everything else around you, skewed and stretched along the curved, reflective surface, but never yourself. I see my friend, he sees me, but neither of us sees ourselves. Weird science, I guess.

They also say that if you go the park at midnight and look into the ball, you will see how you are going to die. Nothing weird about that; it’s the kind of thing “they” say all the time. Everyone says it, but of course, no one does it.

Except I did once, with my girlfriend at the time. I took her for a walk in the woods at midnight for the same reason guys bring their dates to horror movies. Girls who are scared cling closer to you and there’s nothing wrong with that.

We came out into the clearing with the mirror ball and my girl stepped closer to me.

“I hear that if you look in that, you see how you’re going to die,” she said.

“Oh yeah? Should I try it?” I asked. False bravado in front of the ladies.

“Come on, let’s just go,” she said.

But I wasn’t finished showing off. I stepped away from her and walked towards the ball. I saw her behind me in the reflection, stretched and contorted and standing alone in the moonlight.

Then my watch beeped.

Midnight.

In the space of a heartbeat–barely enough time to react–I saw a car appear in the circular reflection. It hit a tree and a body was flung through the windshield and towards me. It lay, unmoving, at a twisted angle that was exaggerated even further by the convex mirror. Still, I saw without a doubt that it was my girl. A figure lurched out of the driver’s seat and came towards her. It was me as I had never seen myself before: older, bearded and holding a bottle.

Then the image was gone and all I saw was my girlfriend standing in the moonlit forest, hugging her arms around herself. I turned back.

“So, did you see how you were going to die?” she asked, a teasing smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

“No, I didn’t,” I said. “I’m going home now.”

“What? You brought me all the way out here just to bring me home?”

“Sorry.”

And then I brought her home and went straight home myself. I broke up with her the next day, no explanation. She never forgave me for that.

“I thought you were the one,” she said.

I think I was.

13 Comments | tags: creepy, fantasy, fiction, flash fiction, Korea, photograph, visual fiction | posted in Visual Fiction

February 24, 2013

Where I sat and wrote – Visual Fiction #20

By David Stewart

This is not really a visual fiction, in that there is no story with it, but this is a shot from where I went this past week. I went by myself and hiked around, reading and writing as well. This picture was taken on the island of Hongdo, in the extreme southwest of Korea. It was the off-season for tourists, so I was totally alone on the paths, in the restaurants, in the hotels. Here, I sat on a bench and looked out at the Yellow Sea stretching out to meet the sky. The weather was warm (for February in Korea) and there were even insects out. I sat and wrote a bit here in a leather-bound blank book my parents gave me for my birthday. It was a good time.

Taken on Hongdo, Korea

28 Comments | tags: Hongdo, island, Korea, outside the tower, photograph, travel, writing, Yellow Sea | posted in Visual Fiction

February 17, 2013

The Broom – Visual Fiction #19

By David Stewart

It seemed to tremble under my hand when I first touched it in the market, which was one of the reasons I bought it. I am just a groundskeeper at an elementary school, but I take care of my tools. I buy them carefully, and use them the same way.

The more you work with tools, the more they gain personalities of their own. I can hear their voices as we work together. The high, ringing voice of the hammer; the dull mumble of the snow shovel, grumbling querulously as it bites at the icy buildup on the steps; even the acerbic snip of the pruning shears as it cuts back errant branches.

But the broom speaks softly. It whispers to me as I pull it smoothly over the brick path. In the fall, I hear it speaking every day, murmuring softly to the fallen gingko leaves as it pushes them into piles. It, more than any other, seems to take pleasure in the work we do together and so, when we are finished for the day, I let it rest for an hour or so in the sun as a reward for its hard work.

taken in Soyang, Korea

5 Comments | tags: anthropomorphism, broom, Korea, photograph, school, visual fiction | posted in Visual Fiction

February 11, 2013

The Ghost Town by the Shore

By David Stewart

I staggered onto the rickety wharf after floating for two days on the open sea. My ship and comrades were in the watery depths and I had given up hope until I spotted land.

Coming into a secluded bay, I had been overjoyed to see a village ahead of me. Now I saw that the buildings were like none I had ever seen before. Everything was eerily quiet as I made my way forward.

I walked among the building in bewilderment. The entire place was deserted, yet nothing was damaged. There were no signs of war or fire or disaster of any kind. Everything was open, as if the people had simply evaporated.

I began to wonder even what country I was in. The roofs all held a singular symbol: a stylized yin-yang swirl above a fish. The carving was amazingly intricate and I wondered if I had stumbled onto an artist colony.

I entered one of the larger buildings and found the first signs of serious industry. It looked like a forge or a refinery and when I advanced a little further, I saw that there was still molten metal in the bottom of the crucible.

I looked closer and got the first real shock since arriving in this ghost town. All the nagging apprehension came back to me in a rush. The molten metal was not real. It looked red, but the surface was cold. I touched it, tentatively. It was glass.

I ran outside and down another street and found myself in a market. As I looked around, I saw the one sight I longed to see more than any other: food. There were stalls filled with fruits and vegetables, with no one in sight. I rushed over, but to my dismay, I found all the food to be mere imitations made of a spongy white substance and totally inedible.

As I continued on, I found a weapons shop, loaded with enough swords, spearheads and bows to equip an army. I picked one up and found it as light as a feather. Even the weapons were not real.

I passed through street after street of shops selling cloth, medicine, animal skins, dishes, and a multitude of other things. Everything sat out as if for sale, but no one attended them. I began to wonder if ghosts inhabited the silent town, like some weird necropolis where the dead roamed after nightfall.

I was becoming thoroughly uneasy and kept looking over my shoulder. The sun was close to setting and now I was terrified of being trapped in this place overnight.

On my way back to the shore, I found myself in a large room with items displayed on each side. I caught sight of a large portrait and stop to stare at it in wonder. It showed a beautiful girl, dressed as a soldier and wielding a sword, but what was so amazing was the skill of the painter. It was completely true to life and even when I looked closely, I could not detect a single brushstroke. I fled, lest the magic that hung over the place trap me there forever. Surely that silent, unreal town could not have been made for human habitation.

* * *

Hi, David here. I guess you could consider this post a sort of Visual Fiction extravaganza. It’s based around a place I went last Friday, in Changwon, Korea. It’s a set village for filming historical dramas and is unique because the buildings are a much different style than most you see in Korea. During the off season it is left open with all the props still there and on display. When we went, there was no one there at all, which made it a very cool place to poke around and explore. And just to prove I was actually there and didn’t just find pictures on the Internet…

17 Comments | tags: Changwon, creepy, deserted, drama, filming, ghost town, historical, Korea, photograph, travel, visual fiction | posted in Visual Fiction

February 3, 2013

Eye, Bridge – Visual Fiction #17

By David Stewart

They say the eye is the window to the soul and as I stare at the lidless empty socket under the bridge, I wonder how far I would have to gaze to find its soul.

“It’s just an illusion,” my friend said, when I mentioned it to him. “Don’t be silly.”

Still, the more I gaze at it, the more the details come together and I see the bridge staring back at me. I almost wish it would blink, yet I hope it never does.

taken in Rochester, New York

8 Comments | tags: black and white, bridge, creepy, eye, photograph, visual fiction | posted in Visual Fiction

January 27, 2013

Captain Butterfly – Visual Fiction #16

By David Stewart

You think you’re in control, don’t you? “Look!” you say. “A butterfly! Let me see if I can take a picture.” You get the camera out slowly, marveling that I’m not moving at all. And then, snap! you get a picture.

What you don’t know is that while I’ve been posing for you, my little ant friends have been untying your shoes. You start to walk away, notice your shoes, and bend down to re-tie them. This gives my sparrow comrades a stationary target to dive-bomb with poop.

Now you’re really getting annoyed, but you take off your pack and jacket to clean them off. While you’re distracted, the chipmunks and spiders get to work unzipping your pack and searching for all the best little goodies you’ve got stored away.

An hour later, you stop for lunch and think, “Huh, I thought I packed a sandwich.”

You did. Thanks for the chow, loser.

taken on Sapshido Island, Korea

13 Comments | tags: animals, butterfly, Korea, nature, photograph, theft, visual fiction | posted in Visual Fiction

January 20, 2013

Visual Fiction – Tower Camp

By David Stewart

Tad looked up the moon burning like white phosphorus above him. It was growing, fattening, and three days from now it would be full. He lay down and listened to the soft hum of electricity running above him. Already he could feel that wildness that grew inside of him every month, the atavistic ferocity that led him to desert his comfortable town life and move his dwelling to this rude camp under the tower. His neighbors had laughed at him anyway and called him crazy.

He didn’t care though. Three more days and he could hunt werewolves.