“Tech support,” Wyllt said in a crisp, professional tone. He settled both hands on his keyboard and began typing rapidly. Beside his mousepad, his cup of tea continued steaming. A muttered syllable and a flash of gold in Wyllt’s eyes and his teaspoon resumed stirring for him. “Have you closed all the other windows, madam?” Then he paused, sighed, and said, “No, madam, not the windows in the house - the windows on your computer screen. Yes, the frame-thingies.”
In the corner, Ambrose was curled up on his favorite over-stuffed chair, a human skull balanced on one knee, his grimoire balanced on the other. A chalk circle was inscribed on the hardwood floor around him while he attempted to animate the skull Lost Unicorn style.
“All right, is your computer successfully rebooted?” Wyllt asked. He cast a glance at his teacup, and the teaspoon vanished in a puff of smoke. Moments later, it clattered into the sink in the kitchen down the hall. He pinched the bridge of his nose and heaved another aggrieved sigh. “Madam, unplugging and then replugging your computer is not the definition of ‘reboot’. Look - do you have an internet connection? Once your computer is on again, you’ll need to open up the internet - yes, the blue and yellow e-shaped button in the bottom right corner of the screen - and I can take over remotely. Yes, from where I’m sitting. Yes, I’ll hold, Madam.”
“You know,” Ambrose said, “any self-respecting wizard would have made that computer explode by now, what with all the magic you’ve been using. And he wouldn’t know the definition of ‘reboot’ either.”
Wyllt sipped some of his tea. “Who said I was self-respecting? I do tech support.” He set his tea down hastily. “Yes, Madam, I’m still here.”
(300 words)
Saturday, November 20, 2010
Friday, November 19, 2010
Family Dinner
“Ma, ‘m hungry.” The little boy reached up and tugged on the woman’s sleeve.
She sighed and pushed her glasses higher up her nose. “I know, darling, Mama just needs a few more minutes.”
The boy pouted and crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m old enough to get food on my own now.”
“No you’re not,” the woman said absently, flicking beads on her abacus with inhuman speed. “You’re still grounded from feeding off the neighbours’ niece last month.”
“She was O positive. I like O positive,” the boy said. He pouted some more.
“You can’t always get the type you want.” The woman wrote some neat figures in her ledger and turned the page. “Back when I was a little girl, we had to hunt people in the middle of the night, and we were glad for what we could get.”
The boy rolled his eyes. “I know - you had to sleep in sewers and abandoned graves and sometimes steal from blood banks.”
The woman glanced at her watch. “Your father will be home from work soon. He promised to help you work on your bat transformation tonight, didn’t he?”
“Yes, Mama.”
“Go play some Castlevania until Daddy gets home, okay?”
“Yes, Mama.” The boy sighed and slunk away. He reached up and prodded one of his fangs - distended from hunger - and resigned himself to his DS until his father came home.
(234 words)
She sighed and pushed her glasses higher up her nose. “I know, darling, Mama just needs a few more minutes.”
The boy pouted and crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m old enough to get food on my own now.”
“No you’re not,” the woman said absently, flicking beads on her abacus with inhuman speed. “You’re still grounded from feeding off the neighbours’ niece last month.”
“She was O positive. I like O positive,” the boy said. He pouted some more.
“You can’t always get the type you want.” The woman wrote some neat figures in her ledger and turned the page. “Back when I was a little girl, we had to hunt people in the middle of the night, and we were glad for what we could get.”
The boy rolled his eyes. “I know - you had to sleep in sewers and abandoned graves and sometimes steal from blood banks.”
The woman glanced at her watch. “Your father will be home from work soon. He promised to help you work on your bat transformation tonight, didn’t he?”
“Yes, Mama.”
“Go play some Castlevania until Daddy gets home, okay?”
“Yes, Mama.” The boy sighed and slunk away. He reached up and prodded one of his fangs - distended from hunger - and resigned himself to his DS until his father came home.
(234 words)
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Vlad Dracula, Prince of the Waves
“This is the best plan you’ve ever had,” Rose said. She stretched out on her beach towel and reached for her bag; she’d brought along a novel and planned to actually finish it.
Lana hummed noncommittally and continued prodding her iPad. Rose rolled her eyes and searched through her bag. Her fingers closed over the worn spine of a used book, and she let out a little hiss of victory.
And then sand exploded at her feet.
Rose yelped and jerked back. Lana dropped her iPad onto the towel and rose up in a crouch, ready to attack.
A stunningly handsome - shirtless - man came trotting toward them. He wore a sheepish expression.
“I’m so sorry - didn’t mean to miss the frisbee like that. Usually my reflexes are better.”
Rose glanced down and saw a neon pink frisbee buried in the sand next to where her feet had been. Then she looked up at the man. He had wavy dark hair and a smooth golden tan and looked like he put in a lot of time at the gym. His time had clearly paid off. He knelt down and scooped up the frisbee.
Then he peered at Rose, who was dazed. They didn’t make men like that in real life, did they?
“Hey, lass, you all right?”
Rose started to nod, but then the man grinned at her, and she saw that he had fangs. Actual vampire fangs.
And then someone hollered from behind him,
“Vlad! Grab your board - the waves are turning into real screamers. Let’s show Hawaii how the brotherhood can carve!”
The man - his name was Vlad? - smiled apologetically again and stood up, scampered away. Rose was sure she’d just imagined the fangs, dazed as she was by his good looks, but on the waves, he was inhuman.
(300 words)
Lana hummed noncommittally and continued prodding her iPad. Rose rolled her eyes and searched through her bag. Her fingers closed over the worn spine of a used book, and she let out a little hiss of victory.
And then sand exploded at her feet.
Rose yelped and jerked back. Lana dropped her iPad onto the towel and rose up in a crouch, ready to attack.
A stunningly handsome - shirtless - man came trotting toward them. He wore a sheepish expression.
“I’m so sorry - didn’t mean to miss the frisbee like that. Usually my reflexes are better.”
Rose glanced down and saw a neon pink frisbee buried in the sand next to where her feet had been. Then she looked up at the man. He had wavy dark hair and a smooth golden tan and looked like he put in a lot of time at the gym. His time had clearly paid off. He knelt down and scooped up the frisbee.
Then he peered at Rose, who was dazed. They didn’t make men like that in real life, did they?
“Hey, lass, you all right?”
Rose started to nod, but then the man grinned at her, and she saw that he had fangs. Actual vampire fangs.
And then someone hollered from behind him,
“Vlad! Grab your board - the waves are turning into real screamers. Let’s show Hawaii how the brotherhood can carve!”
The man - his name was Vlad? - smiled apologetically again and stood up, scampered away. Rose was sure she’d just imagined the fangs, dazed as she was by his good looks, but on the waves, he was inhuman.
(300 words)
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
T-888, Fairy Edition
“A bodyguard?” Prince Arthur echoed. “Surely that’s not strictly necessary. I am a knight in my own right and I can defend myself.”
“Despite your blood relation to Morgan Le Fay, some of the Fair Folk are hostile to your presence,” the Vice Minister - a tiny, green-skinned thing with dragonfly wings who fluttered at shoulder height - said. He adjusted his tiny spectacles primly. “We’ve assigned the best and brightest of the Seeleigh Court forces for you.”
Prince Arthur glanced at Lancelot, who shrugged helplessly. Who would be guarding him? Little creatures with butterfly wings who were no bigger than his shoe?
The Vice Minister cleared his throat, and then a figure slid out of the shadows. Prince Arthur jumped. Lancelot and Gawaine reached for their swords, but then the figure bowed.
Prince Arthur could only stare. The creature was tall and slender, with snow-pale skin and coal-black hair and ocean-blue eyes and a pair of lovely blue-and-gold butterfly wings. It was a fae of some sort, with elegantly-carved cheekbones and a perfect rosette mouth, and Prince Arthur was disturbed to realize that he had no clue whether the creature was male or female.
“This is Peaseblossom,” the Vice Minister said. “He’s very good at what he does.”
Oh. Fairies could be male, then.
Peaseblossom wore a distressingly blank expression, unlike the other fairies who always seemed to be giggling and smiling at obscure things. He looked like a stiff breeze would knock him over, but when the first band of redcaps attacked, he handled a sword like a pro, and he sounded strangely competent when he said,
“Come with me if you want to live,” and extended a hand that was dripping with someone else’s blood.
(293 words)
“Despite your blood relation to Morgan Le Fay, some of the Fair Folk are hostile to your presence,” the Vice Minister - a tiny, green-skinned thing with dragonfly wings who fluttered at shoulder height - said. He adjusted his tiny spectacles primly. “We’ve assigned the best and brightest of the Seeleigh Court forces for you.”
Prince Arthur glanced at Lancelot, who shrugged helplessly. Who would be guarding him? Little creatures with butterfly wings who were no bigger than his shoe?
The Vice Minister cleared his throat, and then a figure slid out of the shadows. Prince Arthur jumped. Lancelot and Gawaine reached for their swords, but then the figure bowed.
Prince Arthur could only stare. The creature was tall and slender, with snow-pale skin and coal-black hair and ocean-blue eyes and a pair of lovely blue-and-gold butterfly wings. It was a fae of some sort, with elegantly-carved cheekbones and a perfect rosette mouth, and Prince Arthur was disturbed to realize that he had no clue whether the creature was male or female.
“This is Peaseblossom,” the Vice Minister said. “He’s very good at what he does.”
Oh. Fairies could be male, then.
Peaseblossom wore a distressingly blank expression, unlike the other fairies who always seemed to be giggling and smiling at obscure things. He looked like a stiff breeze would knock him over, but when the first band of redcaps attacked, he handled a sword like a pro, and he sounded strangely competent when he said,
“Come with me if you want to live,” and extended a hand that was dripping with someone else’s blood.
(293 words)
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Wolf Drama
“What are you going out for this year?” Ulf asked.
Ranolph shrugged and pushed his glasses higher up his nose. “Drama club, I think. I hear they’re doing Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead, which was fantastic.”
Ulf paused in shrugging on his jacket. “...What?”
“Did something I say not make sense?” Ranolph asked.
Ulf blinked slowly. “No, but...I’m going out for football. Hemming and Lovell are doing track, and Marrok is doing wrestling.”
“And I’m doing drama. So what?” Ranolph peered at his reflection and attempting to smooth down an errant cowlick of hair.
“You don’t want to do, I don’t know, sports or something?” Ulf wore a distinctly dubious expression.
Ranolph wore an equally dubious expression as he gestured to himself, indicating his slender frame. “If I went out for sports, I’d get crushed. Even at something like cross country or track and field. Seriously. I’m clumsy, and also delicate.”
Ulf sighed. “You’re a werewolf. You can’t be delicate.”
Ranolph sniffed. “Tell that to my pediatrician. I’ve broken at least thirty bones and I’m only sixteen. If I want to do drama, I shall do drama. You and the others can chest beat all you want and get picked up by the cops for overdoing it with the loup-blood and the testosterone. Ten years from now when you’re rotting in jail and I’m accepting my third Oscar, you’ll see who was the sensible one.”
“Right.” Ulf shook his head. “Just...remember you’re pack.” He clapped Ranolph on the shoulder. “If anyone gives you crap for being a, you know, thespian, let us know. We’ll take care of them.”
Ranolph smiled. “Thanks, cousin.”
(275 words)
Ranolph shrugged and pushed his glasses higher up his nose. “Drama club, I think. I hear they’re doing Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead, which was fantastic.”
Ulf paused in shrugging on his jacket. “...What?”
“Did something I say not make sense?” Ranolph asked.
Ulf blinked slowly. “No, but...I’m going out for football. Hemming and Lovell are doing track, and Marrok is doing wrestling.”
“And I’m doing drama. So what?” Ranolph peered at his reflection and attempting to smooth down an errant cowlick of hair.
“You don’t want to do, I don’t know, sports or something?” Ulf wore a distinctly dubious expression.
Ranolph wore an equally dubious expression as he gestured to himself, indicating his slender frame. “If I went out for sports, I’d get crushed. Even at something like cross country or track and field. Seriously. I’m clumsy, and also delicate.”
Ulf sighed. “You’re a werewolf. You can’t be delicate.”
Ranolph sniffed. “Tell that to my pediatrician. I’ve broken at least thirty bones and I’m only sixteen. If I want to do drama, I shall do drama. You and the others can chest beat all you want and get picked up by the cops for overdoing it with the loup-blood and the testosterone. Ten years from now when you’re rotting in jail and I’m accepting my third Oscar, you’ll see who was the sensible one.”
“Right.” Ulf shook his head. “Just...remember you’re pack.” He clapped Ranolph on the shoulder. “If anyone gives you crap for being a, you know, thespian, let us know. We’ll take care of them.”
Ranolph smiled. “Thanks, cousin.”
(275 words)
Monday, November 15, 2010
Soccer Witch
“Are you coming to Circle Midnight tonight?” Thea asked.
Bonnie bobbed her head. “Yeah. Should be there. Might be a little late - I heard coach was on one, so practice might run late.” She twisted her hair up into a ponytail with an expert turn of her wrists, then set about strapping on her shin guards.
Vivian and Selene exchanged arch looks, then turned back to Bonnie, who was squirming into her soccer jersey and casting worried looks at her watch.
“You know, if you wore a drop of citrine at your neck, it would help boost your energy,” Vivian said. “Also, it would look really good on you - it’s good for your coloring. Maybe one of the boys on the men’s soccer team would notice you and ask you to homecoming, don’t you think?”
Bonnie shook her head. “Nope - jewelry on the field is impractical. Besides, my sports are pure - I won’t let anything taint it.”
Selene wrinkled her nose. “Magic isn’t a taint. It’s a gift you were born with - you should make more use of it than perfunctorily showing up to casting circles and memorizing pitiful little charms.”
“Soccer is a gift, too, one that I intend to develop as fully as my magic,” Bonnie said. She stood up and hoisted her gym bag over her shoulder. “See you sisters at Circle Midnight.”
“You know,” Vivian said, watching Bonnie run off, “we witches put an awful lot of effort into being feminine and powerful. She’s ruining it.”
“Just because she’s an athlete doesn’t mean she’s undermining her own femininity,” Thea said patiently. “And she’s a solid caster, so it’s not like she’s not pulling her weight at circle. Now come on - we have some mundane boys to enchant.”
(291 words)
Bonnie bobbed her head. “Yeah. Should be there. Might be a little late - I heard coach was on one, so practice might run late.” She twisted her hair up into a ponytail with an expert turn of her wrists, then set about strapping on her shin guards.
Vivian and Selene exchanged arch looks, then turned back to Bonnie, who was squirming into her soccer jersey and casting worried looks at her watch.
“You know, if you wore a drop of citrine at your neck, it would help boost your energy,” Vivian said. “Also, it would look really good on you - it’s good for your coloring. Maybe one of the boys on the men’s soccer team would notice you and ask you to homecoming, don’t you think?”
Bonnie shook her head. “Nope - jewelry on the field is impractical. Besides, my sports are pure - I won’t let anything taint it.”
Selene wrinkled her nose. “Magic isn’t a taint. It’s a gift you were born with - you should make more use of it than perfunctorily showing up to casting circles and memorizing pitiful little charms.”
“Soccer is a gift, too, one that I intend to develop as fully as my magic,” Bonnie said. She stood up and hoisted her gym bag over her shoulder. “See you sisters at Circle Midnight.”
“You know,” Vivian said, watching Bonnie run off, “we witches put an awful lot of effort into being feminine and powerful. She’s ruining it.”
“Just because she’s an athlete doesn’t mean she’s undermining her own femininity,” Thea said patiently. “And she’s a solid caster, so it’s not like she’s not pulling her weight at circle. Now come on - we have some mundane boys to enchant.”
(291 words)
Sunday, November 14, 2010
Project #75: Supernatural Creature Iconoclast
All right, let's get it out of our systems. It'd be easy to write about vampires, fairies, werewolves, and the like, because those are popular right now and people love to read about them. But let's not take the easy road - take a new one! (But do not, for the love of all things holy and unholy, make your vampires sparkle.) What about the vampire who loves to lounge on the beach? Or the werewolf who prefers his steaks well done? Or the studious fairy who spends too much time in the library while her fellow winged friends are out partying it up? 100-300 words. Break some molds, try some new characters, and have some fun!
Overview #74: Critical Scenes
This was tough, to try to capture all the momentum of an entire plot line in a single scene barely 500 words long. It was hard to resist the urge to throw down background details, and I'm pretty sure sometimes I failed, but it was fun to dive in and see which scenes would matter most. It was hard to make the characters real without the plot-building that makes things awesome, but I made a good run of it, and I think I learned something about characters. Also names. It was hard to come up with names on the fly that didn't all sound the same, because when I'm writing I work with a set of given characters until their time in my mental menagerie is done, and all their names through their various incarnations are just riffs off of each other, and I couldn't do that here lest I risked basically reiterating the same plots and characters. It was interesting to see how the last scene started off with a UK name and turned the setting UK without me thinking about it.
Still, a fun exercise in feeding plot bunnies. Here's to not falling so behind next week.
Still, a fun exercise in feeding plot bunnies. Here's to not falling so behind next week.
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