Six-String Shine

It could be distorted and heavy, like smoke on the water, or crystalline and clear, an old rock riff. Sometimes it was rhythmic and bouncing, a little jazz, a little ska. Other times it was jagged and steel, full of metal. On slow days in the sun it was wood and steel across a hollow box. It was always fast hands and callused fingertips, counting frets and beats under his breath while someone else led, because he was all about the rhythm, not the melody. A little Brian Setzer, a little Kurt Cobain, some Buddy Holly and *hide, whatever he felt in the mood for, as long as his hands could handle it.

Tonight, under the stars as the wind shivered through the leaves, it would be Meg and Dia and Justin Nozuka and maybe, before he fell asleep, just a little John Denver.

Smoke in the Night

Smoke curled out of the darkness. It was dark, but not quiet. Screams echoed in the night, masses of people crowding the night. Some were crying, some staring, others stood in disbelief of what was happening. Men in uniform were trying to keep order, and not managing very well against the surges of humanity. Lights flashed in the darkness, partially lighting the night. Smoke billowed thicker,the crowd's noise increasing. crackling could be heard, increasing in volume. Blinding floodlights illuminated the area and the first chords were struck.

Waves of Grain

Rise and fall, rise and fall, sweep and slide, sweep and slide, a lulling, gentle, rocking rhythm. Tiny particles, white and weightless, drifted in the weight of the wind, but the rest of the surface remained rolling and rollicking. If he tipped his head back he could pause and enjoy the spray, the scent, the way it tickled his face.

If he stretched out a hand, he could feel each blade and frond graze his palms, and he could imagine a girl holding his hand.

And then his father would glare and he'd lift his scythe and fall to reaping once more.

Mr. White Keys

Keys, black and white, so many to choose from, so many right or wrong or perfect, some standing alone or some running in harmonious twos, threes. He stared, hesitant, nervous to touch but desperate to find out which combination was the one. There was a perfect combination, or so the stories went, and he had to find it.

The right set of keys would open the door to her heart, but he had to find them. It was going to take a lot of work. He unbuttoned his cuffs, rolled up his sleeves, and set to work, picking keys, scribbling their names down on a piece of paper whenever he struck upon a combination that would work.

Even if this isn't the food of love, he thought, I'm going to be playing on.

Whispering...

Bending and swaying it dances in the slightest gust of air, bowing low only to spring up again. It can be increased to a roar or reduced to a whisper. It can be snuffed out, only to have it's kin revive it. The air practically shimmers near it's core. It would give off a pure tone if it could be heard. Primal and essential, it is a building block of our world.



(grr... Writers block)

In the Sun 'Tis a Woe to Me

It was blue in the sun and black in the shadows, sleek like silk and as light and flowing as a waterfall. He watched it move in the breeze, saw deft but absent fingers lay it straight, and he wished he dared get close enough to touch.

If he closed his eyes, he could imagine the way it felt beneath his hands, the way it would smell as he leaned in, like strawberry or coconut.

Edna St. Vincent-Millay was right. In the sun ‘tis a woe to me. He took a deep breath and forced himself to keep on walking.

(101 words)

Bells on the Wind

Wind breezes through the night air, carrying music to the late night lovers. Delicate tones reverberate off of the walls of the wide balcony, each ping as soothing as the one before. All the notes are different, yet there is no discord in the music. There is no pattern to the music except the rustle of the tree branches outside. The notes blend randomly into a midnight serenade.


(Okay, a bit lame, but I was stuck...)

Play the Game

They trudged through the dungeon, motley assortment of weapons and armor slung over shoulders and cinched uncomfortably around ill-suited torsos. They were wary of each other, leery of backstabbing at any moment, of thieving and betrayal.

And then a door loomed ahead.

Someone said, "Kick it down."

No response.

"Kick it down, already. It's your turn, Chaz."

Chaz booted the door down with little enthusiasm. A small Mortal Kom Bat hovered, waiting to take him on. Chaz hefted his sword. "Anyone going to screw me over? Anyone? Anyone at all? I'm going to kill it in three, two, one..."

None of the others said a thing, and Chaz dispatched the creature quickly. He fished his reward off the pile with trepidation, and then the party erupted into laughter.

Someone said, "You should know better than to pick up a duck in a dungeon."

Overview #27 - Characterization in an Instant

This was fun. I'd always told myself that's what makes people people, how they react in a given situation, and that's what sets people apart, the way they act so differently in the same situation, and I wanted to try that out. I knew pretty much how the brothers Summers would act, up until Bob. In my head Bob has always been the shy one - he hides behind his hair, never says much in interviews, but he was also the one picked to be a connection, and I realized that had to impact how he acts in emergency situations. I wasn't sure who the last two should be, but I was glad I chose Chase, because I'm essentially rewriting a lot of his character, and this was a good chance to see it. As for DJ - I honestly wasn't sure what he would do. Each of the Sector Five boys is homicidal in his own way. I think I chose DJ because it would have been too easy for Keith, Gabriel, and Angel, each of whom have ranged talents that wouldn't require them to even break free of their bonds. Christian has had enough love lately, and I'll confess that I don't have quite the hold on Tobias that I'd like. And DJ - DJ has his own brand of cruelty, and I wanted to try it out, because with the way Chadstone rolled on Other Haven I was a little dissatisfied with what he has in him. I wanted to make sure he still had it.

Project Assignment #28 - Description

This weeks project is to take an object, concrete or abstract, and to describe it. The object of this exercise is to convey the essence of the object or idea without naming it. The other writers should try to guess in their comments. Hopefully by the way it is described, it should be, if not obvious, at least easier to guess what it is. Let's have fun.

Lets limit it to 200 words.

Overview #27: Characterization in an instant

I had fun this week working on each of the characters that had to deal with David's death. I must say this is the longest I have stuck with one universe, or the same characters. I have been enjoying discovering their personalities and their quirks.

I found that as I was working with them this week that often after I had written the piece that they decided to tell me more about what they were felling than they did at first. They like to hold out on me. Take Steve. Even as he wanted to keep the team together, I was not able to convey the deep sense of personal guilt on his part over David's death. He felt it was partly his fault. That in some way that he could have prevented it from happening.

I think i need to ponder more fully what is going on before I begin to write. This could greatly improve the consistency and quality of my writing. I think that on the whole that my writing has vastly improved since we began this project. I know my grammar is still probably lacking, but I plan on picking up a copy of the shrunk&white book.