Sunday, November 23, 2008
Overview #5 Music and Lyrics
I noticed that I would scan through songs until one struck me with an idea. I usually knew what story I wanted to use or rather continue in, with Kim and David, with Garain, and with the others. Once a song came on that got the creative juices flowing, it came easier. I did notice that I usually made the story kind of match what the song was about, but I think I did one where it was simply the words I needed. I notice that I like songs with some angst in them, or else on the opposite end of the spectrum, and use songs that were all love, I didn't really have any middle of the road musical pieces. I noticed that songs can really inspire. I am still, obviously having comma splice problems, but in time that will go away. I had fun with this weeks project, but I had trouble some times limiting the word count.
Overview #5 - Music and Lyrics
Wow. This really showed my strengths and weaknesses and preferences. I have a preference - and tentatively a strength - for dialogue. Oftentimes I ended up using lyrics as lines of dialogue without any reference to the fact that they were songs, or I used them as songs someone sang as an allusion or during dialogue. I don't know that I ever went straight songfic with any of the lyrics, interspersing them with narrative to create an effect. I do like writing songs into stories, though, and was surprised at myself for not having more characters just singing. I took it as a challenge, on at least some occasions, to use lyrics from a song in a way that didn't end up fitting the song. "Here Comes the Snake" was pretty obvious and for me there's always been one way I wanted to write that song, and I finally did it. What I did with "Hands Down", "Through Glass", "In This Diary", and "IV" didn't really fit the overall tenor of the original songs, and I liked that - I liked reinventing lyrics. While I do love a good songfic where a story follows a song, sometimes lyrics taken out of context can go a long way. To be honest, some of the lyric tricks I pulled on previous posts I liked better. It was easy to give in and make the lyrics to a song almost the entire story, where in other posts I used lyrics subtly. There's room for improvement even when working with a theme, it seems. I had fun with this, hearing new songs and artists as well as hearing old songs that remind me of the good days. It was hard, but I resisted writing my favorite songs, like The General by the Dispatch and The Origin Of Love from Hedwig and the Angry Inch. I think I branched out a bit and used some songs I'd never intended to write, which was good.
Saturday, November 22, 2008
All for One - Blackmore's Night
We'll drink together
And when we drink we'll drink together, not alone!
Allen could not even remember who he was anymore. His life had become a endless haze of alcohol and regrets, pain and memories. The man next to him filled up his glass again. He couldn't remember anything after that, he only found himself in a war zone.
We'll fight together
And when we fight we'll fight together, not alone!
All For One, and One For All!
The rallying cry went up. It was war and there was no turning back. The masses of soldiers surged forward, each with a private motive.
Lost in the shuffle of the host was a young man. “For my love!” He yelled, cutting down the man in front of him.
Blinded by vengeance he fought on, even though his body begged for rest.
“Hey Allen, they got you too huh?” The weak voice came from beside him. Allen knew he was dying.
“Yeah, they... did, and you know... it's not that bad.”
At least in the end he wasn't alone.
We'll fall together
And when we fall we'll fall together, not alone!
All For One, and One For All!
Together.
(I know I did Blackmore's Night this week, but I love them. So here is a video and her are the Lyrics.)
And when we drink we'll drink together, not alone!
Allen could not even remember who he was anymore. His life had become a endless haze of alcohol and regrets, pain and memories. The man next to him filled up his glass again. He couldn't remember anything after that, he only found himself in a war zone.
We'll fight together
And when we fight we'll fight together, not alone!
All For One, and One For All!
The rallying cry went up. It was war and there was no turning back. The masses of soldiers surged forward, each with a private motive.
Lost in the shuffle of the host was a young man. “For my love!” He yelled, cutting down the man in front of him.
Blinded by vengeance he fought on, even though his body begged for rest.
“Hey Allen, they got you too huh?” The weak voice came from beside him. Allen knew he was dying.
“Yeah, they... did, and you know... it's not that bad.”
At least in the end he wasn't alone.
We'll fall together
And when we fall we'll fall together, not alone!
All For One, and One For All!
Together.
(I know I did Blackmore's Night this week, but I love them. So here is a video and her are the Lyrics.)
Here Comes the Snake
“What happened to the music?” Alice asked.
“I don’t know,” Lily said. She craned her neck and peered over the crowd. Someone had interrupted the DJ - Remus - and now he stood beside his victrola, looking puzzled.
“I want to dance.” Alice tossed her head impatiently.
“There goes Lucius,” Lily said, and heads turned as Lucius, smart and sharp in a black zoot suit shot through with green pinstripes, headed up onto the stage.
“D’you think he’s out to stop our fun with his conservative nonsense?” Alice asked.
“Not dressed like that,” Lily said, and stared. He had a fedora tipped low over his face, so only one eye showed. His white-blond hair gleamed in the dim light.
“Here comes the snake,” someone shouted. The crowd parted to let Severus through. He wore an ill-fitting black suit and carried a trumpet. He climbed up onto the stage beside Lucius, and incredulous whispers spread through the crowd.
A chorus of hisses rose, and the crowd laughed.
“Precisely,” Lucius said, and a microphone appeared in his hand. Severus sounded the first note on his trumpet, and music swelled.
Lucius began to sing.
“Here comes the snake and he circles your leg...”
(Word count: 200; couldn't resist this for fandom; lyrics; don't mind the anime, just watch the video
“I don’t know,” Lily said. She craned her neck and peered over the crowd. Someone had interrupted the DJ - Remus - and now he stood beside his victrola, looking puzzled.
“I want to dance.” Alice tossed her head impatiently.
“There goes Lucius,” Lily said, and heads turned as Lucius, smart and sharp in a black zoot suit shot through with green pinstripes, headed up onto the stage.
“D’you think he’s out to stop our fun with his conservative nonsense?” Alice asked.
“Not dressed like that,” Lily said, and stared. He had a fedora tipped low over his face, so only one eye showed. His white-blond hair gleamed in the dim light.
“Here comes the snake,” someone shouted. The crowd parted to let Severus through. He wore an ill-fitting black suit and carried a trumpet. He climbed up onto the stage beside Lucius, and incredulous whispers spread through the crowd.
A chorus of hisses rose, and the crowd laughed.
“Precisely,” Lucius said, and a microphone appeared in his hand. Severus sounded the first note on his trumpet, and music swelled.
Lucius began to sing.
“Here comes the snake and he circles your leg...”
(Word count: 200; couldn't resist this for fandom; lyrics; don't mind the anime, just watch the video
Friday, November 21, 2008
L'Ultima Notte - Josh Groban
Alastrina was closer to the front tonight, just by a little, she had moved from the bar to a table on the side of the room, she had heard he was going to sing tonight, and she hopped to get a better look at him.
Chissa perche stai li cosi
con queglie occhi fissi su di me
vedrai che poi me passera
e che non m'aspettavo
Questa follia
The voice floated from the stage. It seemed like he had poured his whole soul into the words. Alastrina focused her whole attention on the stage, she knew she knew this voice form somewhere in her past, or perhaps another life, but she could not remember where. She felt that if she could see his face then she would remember.
He was in the deepest shadows, still all she would see was his smile.
After the show Alastrina was walking out of the club. “I wonder what that song meant,” She mused aloud.
“who knows why are you there like that
with those eyes fixed on me
you'll see that I'll be okay
and that I didn't expect
this craziness.” said a voice from behind her, but she never saw who it was.
(Video. Lyrics. Woohoo!!! post 100!!!)
Chissa perche stai li cosi
con queglie occhi fissi su di me
vedrai che poi me passera
e che non m'aspettavo
Questa follia
The voice floated from the stage. It seemed like he had poured his whole soul into the words. Alastrina focused her whole attention on the stage, she knew she knew this voice form somewhere in her past, or perhaps another life, but she could not remember where. She felt that if she could see his face then she would remember.
He was in the deepest shadows, still all she would see was his smile.
After the show Alastrina was walking out of the club. “I wonder what that song meant,” She mused aloud.
“who knows why are you there like that
with those eyes fixed on me
you'll see that I'll be okay
and that I didn't expect
this craziness.” said a voice from behind her, but she never saw who it was.
(Video. Lyrics. Woohoo!!! post 100!!!)
Through Glass - Stone Sour
“I’m looking at you through the glass. Don’t know how much time has passed.”
He stared through the windows out at the wide world. It was a vastly different perspective. Everything was bigger, brighter - and uglier. Warped and distended beyond recognition. He didn’t like it.
“No one ever tells you that forever feels like home, sitting all alone inside your head.” He sang to himself, a song he’d heard on the radio, one he found especially appropriate to his situation.
“Devon, you’re singing again,” Sarah said.
He glanced up from the book he was reading. “No I’m not.”
“Not aloud, obviously, but your little telepathic chorus line is grating on my nerves.” Sarah rubbed her forehead and glared at her math homework.
Devon’s eyes narrowed, and his eyes glazed over as he focused inward. Then he heard it, the soft singing from inside his own mind.
Shut up, he said.
Make me. You’ll only hurt yourself.
Shut up before I destroy you.
Your employer told you to keep my consciousness in yours. He won’t be happy if I’m damaged.
If you don’t shut up now, I’ll let Sarah have at you with her telekinesis when you’re back in your body.
(Word count: 200. Lyrics are here; music video is here)
He stared through the windows out at the wide world. It was a vastly different perspective. Everything was bigger, brighter - and uglier. Warped and distended beyond recognition. He didn’t like it.
“No one ever tells you that forever feels like home, sitting all alone inside your head.” He sang to himself, a song he’d heard on the radio, one he found especially appropriate to his situation.
“Devon, you’re singing again,” Sarah said.
He glanced up from the book he was reading. “No I’m not.”
“Not aloud, obviously, but your little telepathic chorus line is grating on my nerves.” Sarah rubbed her forehead and glared at her math homework.
Devon’s eyes narrowed, and his eyes glazed over as he focused inward. Then he heard it, the soft singing from inside his own mind.
Shut up, he said.
Make me. You’ll only hurt yourself.
Shut up before I destroy you.
Your employer told you to keep my consciousness in yours. He won’t be happy if I’m damaged.
If you don’t shut up now, I’ll let Sarah have at you with her telekinesis when you’re back in your body.
(Word count: 200. Lyrics are here; music video is here)
Thursday, November 20, 2008
Held
He held on desperately he did not want to die, he was not ready, there was so much for him yet to do.
"It is time to go," a voice said.
No it can't be over yet, this can't be how it ends.
He was hanging on to the edge of her life.
"Just let go."
"It is time to go," a voice said.
No it can't be over yet, this can't be how it ends.
He was hanging on to the edge of her life.
"Just let go."
It's Raining Men - the whether girls
Allissa was ready to go for it, she was tired of waiting, of being the one left out, the one to sit home at night on the weekends. A storm was brewing and she was going to be ready for it.
Humidity is rising - Barometer's getting low
According to all sources, the street's the place to go
She carefully applied her makeup, and fixed her hair. Pulling on her sexiest outfit, a little leather number, she strode confidently out her door.
Cause tonight for the first time
Just about half-past ten.
It was a little before ten, so she had a while yet to wait, but her friend assured her that come ten thirty; you could hardly move because there were so many guys, but right now the club was practically empty.
For the first time in history
It's gonna start raining men.
It was almost time.
I'm gonna go out to run and let myself get
Absolutely soaking wet!
Allissa could not believe her eyes, it was like a floodgate had been breached, and they were all flowing into one place.
Tall, blond, dark and lean
Rough and tough and strong and mean.
She was ready to find someone.
(okay, I couldn't resist doing this one, it is just to much fun. Here is the video that I like the most and here are the Lyrics)
Humidity is rising - Barometer's getting low
According to all sources, the street's the place to go
She carefully applied her makeup, and fixed her hair. Pulling on her sexiest outfit, a little leather number, she strode confidently out her door.
Cause tonight for the first time
Just about half-past ten.
It was a little before ten, so she had a while yet to wait, but her friend assured her that come ten thirty; you could hardly move because there were so many guys, but right now the club was practically empty.
For the first time in history
It's gonna start raining men.
It was almost time.
I'm gonna go out to run and let myself get
Absolutely soaking wet!
Allissa could not believe her eyes, it was like a floodgate had been breached, and they were all flowing into one place.
Tall, blond, dark and lean
Rough and tough and strong and mean.
She was ready to find someone.
(okay, I couldn't resist doing this one, it is just to much fun. Here is the video that I like the most and here are the Lyrics)
Held
"I held back, you know," Kevin said.
Jason swiped at his eye, dabbed at his cut lip. "That's what you say."
"That is what he says, and it's the truth," Simon chimed in. He straightened up from where he was leaning against the wall. "You see, we had orders to kill you. He just wanted to play first is all."
Jason started. "The hell?"
"That's the truth," Simon said, drew a gun, and shot him.
Kevin laughed.
Jason swiped at his eye, dabbed at his cut lip. "That's what you say."
"That is what he says, and it's the truth," Simon chimed in. He straightened up from where he was leaning against the wall. "You see, we had orders to kill you. He just wanted to play first is all."
Jason started. "The hell?"
"That's the truth," Simon said, drew a gun, and shot him.
Kevin laughed.
Je T'oublierai - Isabelle Boulay
"La lune et le soleil
Se souviendraient de toi
Comment veux-tu que moi
Tout à coup je t’oublie."
“Your girlfriend looks good up there,” Tim said, and nodded up at the stage where Sylvie was singing.
“Ex-girlfriend,” Ben muttered into his drink.
“She’s got a pretty voice,” Kevin offered.
“It’s a pretty song,” Tim agreed.
Ben growled. “Will you two knock it off?”
Kevin studied Sylvie as she curled around the microphone, crooning. “She looks angry, actually.”
"Et que les grands murs blancs
De mon appartement
Se referment sur moi
Comme un cinérama.
Je t’oublierai, je t’oublierai, je t’oublierai..."
The music crescendoed, and Sylvie lifted her head. Her eyes flashed, and her voice swelled to fill the room.
“She sounds angry, too,” Tim said.
Ben resisted the urge to kick him under the table. “What the hell is she saying, anyway? Over and over again. Zhuh too blee ray. What does that mean?”
The girl at the table beside them said, “It’s French. It means ‘I will forget you’.”
“Oh,” Ben said.
The girl smiled up at Sylvie and waved. “You should hear the next number.”
“Sylvie’s not singing.”
“It’s an ensemble piece - called the Cell Block Tango.”
(Word count: 200 on the nose with the French messing things up; lyrics are here; video is here; I decided to try for someone singing for once instead of just using lyrics as dialogue)
Se souviendraient de toi
Comment veux-tu que moi
Tout à coup je t’oublie."
“Your girlfriend looks good up there,” Tim said, and nodded up at the stage where Sylvie was singing.
“Ex-girlfriend,” Ben muttered into his drink.
“She’s got a pretty voice,” Kevin offered.
“It’s a pretty song,” Tim agreed.
Ben growled. “Will you two knock it off?”
Kevin studied Sylvie as she curled around the microphone, crooning. “She looks angry, actually.”
"Et que les grands murs blancs
De mon appartement
Se referment sur moi
Comme un cinérama.
Je t’oublierai, je t’oublierai, je t’oublierai..."
The music crescendoed, and Sylvie lifted her head. Her eyes flashed, and her voice swelled to fill the room.
“She sounds angry, too,” Tim said.
Ben resisted the urge to kick him under the table. “What the hell is she saying, anyway? Over and over again. Zhuh too blee ray. What does that mean?”
The girl at the table beside them said, “It’s French. It means ‘I will forget you’.”
“Oh,” Ben said.
The girl smiled up at Sylvie and waved. “You should hear the next number.”
“Sylvie’s not singing.”
“It’s an ensemble piece - called the Cell Block Tango.”
(Word count: 200 on the nose with the French messing things up; lyrics are here; video is here; I decided to try for someone singing for once instead of just using lyrics as dialogue)
Sway - Version by Michael Buble
Alastrina was at the club again. She had been there every night for the last two weeks, waiting. Waiting for him.
Since that first night she had only seen him once. She never saw more of him than his eyes or the glint of his smile. He usually sang love ballads that had all the women in the club swooning. She had come every night, hoping to hear that voice again.
Alastrina's thought were scattered to the wind when she heard the opening bars of one of her favorite songs, looking to the stage all she saw was blackness, and her heart rate sped up. It was him.
It was a smooth samba rhythm; his smooth alluring voice coming out of the darkness.
When marimba rhythms start to play
Dance with me, make me sway
Like a lazy ocean hugs the shore
Hold me close, sway me more
Alastrina's eyes drifted closed, her mind reveling in the gentle caress of his song. She started to sway, the song compelled her.
Like a flower bending in the breeze
Bend with me, sway with ease
When we dance you have a way with me
Stay with me, sway with me
Green eyes found her. She would remember.
(The song is Sway, and this version is done by Michael Buble. The song and the Lyrics can be found here. Both are on the page you just need to pull down the more info tab.)
Since that first night she had only seen him once. She never saw more of him than his eyes or the glint of his smile. He usually sang love ballads that had all the women in the club swooning. She had come every night, hoping to hear that voice again.
Alastrina's thought were scattered to the wind when she heard the opening bars of one of her favorite songs, looking to the stage all she saw was blackness, and her heart rate sped up. It was him.
It was a smooth samba rhythm; his smooth alluring voice coming out of the darkness.
When marimba rhythms start to play
Dance with me, make me sway
Like a lazy ocean hugs the shore
Hold me close, sway me more
Alastrina's eyes drifted closed, her mind reveling in the gentle caress of his song. She started to sway, the song compelled her.
Like a flower bending in the breeze
Bend with me, sway with ease
When we dance you have a way with me
Stay with me, sway with me
Green eyes found her. She would remember.
(The song is Sway, and this version is done by Michael Buble. The song and the Lyrics can be found here. Both are on the page you just need to pull down the more info tab.)
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Hands Down - Dashboard Confessional
“You stood at your door with your hands on my waist and you kissed me like you meant it. And I knew that you meant it. So I decided that I can’t afford to be afraid anymore, and, if your offer still stands, I accept. I’ll see you soon. Love you.”
Tara listened to the message on her cell phone again and again. She hadn’t moved from her spot next to the front door; she’d collapsed when the officers had come to tell her the news.
They’d been polite, smiling gently, tugging off their hats as soon as she let them in.
They’d been too calm for what had happened.
“Are you Tara Collins?”
“Am I in trouble?”
“No, ma’am. You know Jacob Linwood?”
“Yes. What about him? He’s in New York.”
“Actually, ma’am, he took a flight out here and landed an hour ago.”
“Is he in trouble?”
“No, ma’am. He had your name and address in his wallet. He has no next of kin on record, so it’s our duty to report that he is deceased.”
Deceased. That’s what they called it when someone was killed by a stupid, random drunk driver.
Tara listened to the message again.
(Word count: 200; lyrics are here; video is here; I prefer the acoustic version for this piece, but the rock version is available online)
Tara listened to the message on her cell phone again and again. She hadn’t moved from her spot next to the front door; she’d collapsed when the officers had come to tell her the news.
They’d been polite, smiling gently, tugging off their hats as soon as she let them in.
They’d been too calm for what had happened.
“Are you Tara Collins?”
“Am I in trouble?”
“No, ma’am. You know Jacob Linwood?”
“Yes. What about him? He’s in New York.”
“Actually, ma’am, he took a flight out here and landed an hour ago.”
“Is he in trouble?”
“No, ma’am. He had your name and address in his wallet. He has no next of kin on record, so it’s our duty to report that he is deceased.”
Deceased. That’s what they called it when someone was killed by a stupid, random drunk driver.
Tara listened to the message again.
(Word count: 200; lyrics are here; video is here; I prefer the acoustic version for this piece, but the rock version is available online)
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Stand my Ground
Late at night
things I thought I put behind me
haunt my mind.
Kim stood in the poring rain, she was tired of running, tired of life. David was gone, all she knew now was vengeance. All that mattered to her was bringing her own justice to the world. She could still feel his cooling body in her arms, his eyes had not yet clouded over in death. Lighting flashed in her eyes, echoing the building rage.
Stand my ground, I won't give in
No more denying, I gotta face it
Won't close my eyes and hide the truth inside
If I don't make it, someone else will
Stand My Ground.
She would punish, and punish without impunity. They had killed him because of her, and now they would suffer as she suffered. They would all die, she would make sure of that. There would be no mercy. The first would fall tonight.
Though this might just be the ending
of the life I held so dear
but I won't run, there's no turning back from here.
And when they were all dead, she would follow David into that final rest.
(okay this song is Stand my Ground by Within Temptation. Lyrics are here and video is here.)
things I thought I put behind me
haunt my mind.
Kim stood in the poring rain, she was tired of running, tired of life. David was gone, all she knew now was vengeance. All that mattered to her was bringing her own justice to the world. She could still feel his cooling body in her arms, his eyes had not yet clouded over in death. Lighting flashed in her eyes, echoing the building rage.
Stand my ground, I won't give in
No more denying, I gotta face it
Won't close my eyes and hide the truth inside
If I don't make it, someone else will
Stand My Ground.
She would punish, and punish without impunity. They had killed him because of her, and now they would suffer as she suffered. They would all die, she would make sure of that. There would be no mercy. The first would fall tonight.
Though this might just be the ending
of the life I held so dear
but I won't run, there's no turning back from here.
And when they were all dead, she would follow David into that final rest.
(okay this song is Stand my Ground by Within Temptation. Lyrics are here and video is here.)
On My Own
Marcus doesn’t ask if his mother loves his father, because he knows. He despises the man who walked out and left his mother to face the world, alone, with a new child. Marcus knows his mother loves him and doesn’t think him a mistake, but sometimes he knows he hurts her, when he says or does something that makes him look just like his father.
Marcus can sing, and he sings in a band with his best friend Jamie. He got his voice from his mother, for she loves to sing, and she’s sung him one song since his childhood. He thought it was a lullaby when he was younger, but now he knows the truth.
“I love him
But every day I'm learning
All my life I've only been pretending
Without me his world will go on turning
A world that's full of happiness
That I have never known.”
It’s a song from a musical, one Marcus has heard many times before. He realizes what it means when his mother sings it, so when a stranger knocks on the door and asks to see his mother, says it’s about his father, Marcus says the man has the wrong address.
(I know this is probably overused in songfics, but I've always wanted to write it. Lyrics are here (although you probably know them all) and the video is here (it's my favorite version, as there are many, but I know you know what it sounds like).
Marcus can sing, and he sings in a band with his best friend Jamie. He got his voice from his mother, for she loves to sing, and she’s sung him one song since his childhood. He thought it was a lullaby when he was younger, but now he knows the truth.
“I love him
But every day I'm learning
All my life I've only been pretending
Without me his world will go on turning
A world that's full of happiness
That I have never known.”
It’s a song from a musical, one Marcus has heard many times before. He realizes what it means when his mother sings it, so when a stranger knocks on the door and asks to see his mother, says it’s about his father, Marcus says the man has the wrong address.
(I know this is probably overused in songfics, but I've always wanted to write it. Lyrics are here (although you probably know them all) and the video is here (it's my favorite version, as there are many, but I know you know what it sounds like).
Monday, November 17, 2008
Loreley
Legend's faded storyline
tried to warn us all,
Oh, they called her Loreley,
Careful or you'll fall...
Garain flew across the world, flitting from land to land. Laughter and tears were sunshine and rain. That was long ago.
And the winds would cry,
And many men would die,
And all the waves would bow down to the Loreley...
Garain no longer had the freedom of the world, now the people did not believe in her, she was only a legend. The people of the world did not ever remember her real name. The only remnant of her life was the legend of Loreley.
Oh, the stories we were told,
Quite a vision to behold,
Mysteries of the seas
In her eyes of gold.
Garain ghosted across the land, her laughter silent in the noise of the modern world. The sun now shone without her permission and the rains came and went as if she was no longer a goddess. Only in songs and the imaginations of the few who could believe, did she find a spark of life.
In a shade of mossy green, seashell in her hand,
She was born the river queen, ne'er to grace the land...
(The song is Loreley by Blackmore's Night. Here are the lyrics and here is the video.
tried to warn us all,
Oh, they called her Loreley,
Careful or you'll fall...
Garain flew across the world, flitting from land to land. Laughter and tears were sunshine and rain. That was long ago.
And the winds would cry,
And many men would die,
And all the waves would bow down to the Loreley...
Garain no longer had the freedom of the world, now the people did not believe in her, she was only a legend. The people of the world did not ever remember her real name. The only remnant of her life was the legend of Loreley.
Oh, the stories we were told,
Quite a vision to behold,
Mysteries of the seas
In her eyes of gold.
Garain ghosted across the land, her laughter silent in the noise of the modern world. The sun now shone without her permission and the rains came and went as if she was no longer a goddess. Only in songs and the imaginations of the few who could believe, did she find a spark of life.
In a shade of mossy green, seashell in her hand,
She was born the river queen, ne'er to grace the land...
(The song is Loreley by Blackmore's Night. Here are the lyrics and here is the video.
In This Diary - The Ataris
Here in this diary I write you visions of my summer.
Outside, the sky raged. He looked away from the slicing lightning, put his pen back to the page. He’d picked out a pretty diary, one a girl ought to like, and he hoped she’d like it.
It was the best I ever had.
He reached down, scratched the scab that was forming over a weal from Father’s cane.
There were choruses and sing-alongs and that unspoken feeling --
That I wanted to die.
He couldn’t write that.
Of knowing that right now is all that matters.
The only moments that mattered were when she was beside him, smiling, laughing, being his friend even if she didn’t know he loved her desperately, the way a shadows loves the light.
She wouldn’t take it well when she found out, and he wanted to make this as painless as possible for her.
Being grown up isn’t half as fun as growing up.
He was done growing up, and adulthood was the stark realization that he would never escape his father unless he made the ultimate sacrifice, and he’d sacrifice himself before he’d sacrifice her.
These are the best days of our lives.
(Lyrics from "In This Diary" by the Ataris; see them here; music video is here)
Outside, the sky raged. He looked away from the slicing lightning, put his pen back to the page. He’d picked out a pretty diary, one a girl ought to like, and he hoped she’d like it.
It was the best I ever had.
He reached down, scratched the scab that was forming over a weal from Father’s cane.
There were choruses and sing-alongs and that unspoken feeling --
That I wanted to die.
He couldn’t write that.
Of knowing that right now is all that matters.
The only moments that mattered were when she was beside him, smiling, laughing, being his friend even if she didn’t know he loved her desperately, the way a shadows loves the light.
She wouldn’t take it well when she found out, and he wanted to make this as painless as possible for her.
Being grown up isn’t half as fun as growing up.
He was done growing up, and adulthood was the stark realization that he would never escape his father unless he made the ultimate sacrifice, and he’d sacrifice himself before he’d sacrifice her.
These are the best days of our lives.
(Lyrics from "In This Diary" by the Ataris; see them here; music video is here)
Sunday, November 16, 2008
Gentleman's Excuse me
Annie looked up, and her eyes widened in surprise, “Edward,” she breathed.
“Hello Annie.” Edward had wondered for years what had happened to her, he thought back fondly to their perfect summer.
They were enjoying a cup of coffee and catching up on old times. Edward looked at Annie, “Do you still keep paper flowers in the bottom drawer with your Belgian lace, taking them out every year to watch the colors fade away?”
Annie smiled faintly, remembering with fondness their time together. She remembered his final words to her and her smile faltered.
“All I have to offer is the love that I have, it's freely given. You'll see its value when you see what I've tried to say. It's a gentleman's excuse me so I'll take on step to the side. Can you get it in your head I'm tired of dancing?”
Edward also remembered, he could not give her what she needed, he was tired of dancing, tired of trying to be something that he was not. He looked at her as he stood to leave, “I loved you Annie. Can't you see it's hard for me, can you see what I am trying to say? I'm tired of Dancing.”
(The song is a Gentleman's excuse me by Fish, here is the lyrics And here is the music video)
“Hello Annie.” Edward had wondered for years what had happened to her, he thought back fondly to their perfect summer.
They were enjoying a cup of coffee and catching up on old times. Edward looked at Annie, “Do you still keep paper flowers in the bottom drawer with your Belgian lace, taking them out every year to watch the colors fade away?”
Annie smiled faintly, remembering with fondness their time together. She remembered his final words to her and her smile faltered.
“All I have to offer is the love that I have, it's freely given. You'll see its value when you see what I've tried to say. It's a gentleman's excuse me so I'll take on step to the side. Can you get it in your head I'm tired of dancing?”
Edward also remembered, he could not give her what she needed, he was tired of dancing, tired of trying to be something that he was not. He looked at her as he stood to leave, “I loved you Annie. Can't you see it's hard for me, can you see what I am trying to say? I'm tired of Dancing.”
(The song is a Gentleman's excuse me by Fish, here is the lyrics And here is the music video)
IV - X Japan
She stood by the window and stared out into the twilit rain.
He stood on the pavement outside the house, watching the warm light spill from the windows. “I’m calling you, dear,” he whispered.
She had the inexplicable urge to go outside, to escape the madness, but they’d locked the doors and windows and told her she couldn’t leave, that she was sick and couldn’t go outside till she was better.
“Find the way out,” he whispered. He could see the graceful curves of her silhouette and knew she had to be looking at him. Why wasn’t she coming? “Can’t you me standing right here?”
“Jill, come away from the window.” Someone tugged on her shoulder, and she turned away.
“Why? I was watching the rain. John -- “ John loved standing in the rain.
“John’s not out there, sweetie. It’s dinnertime.”
Jill followed her mother into the kitchen.
A hand came down on John’s shoulder. “Hey, you shouldn’t be here.”
John ignored him. “I want Jill to come outside and see me. They’re keeping her away from me. I love her.”
The other boy laughed. “John, you’ve been dead for five days. She can’t see a ghost. Come on - crossover time.”
(Lyrics from I.V. by X Japan - see them here; link also includes the video)
He stood on the pavement outside the house, watching the warm light spill from the windows. “I’m calling you, dear,” he whispered.
She had the inexplicable urge to go outside, to escape the madness, but they’d locked the doors and windows and told her she couldn’t leave, that she was sick and couldn’t go outside till she was better.
“Find the way out,” he whispered. He could see the graceful curves of her silhouette and knew she had to be looking at him. Why wasn’t she coming? “Can’t you me standing right here?”
“Jill, come away from the window.” Someone tugged on her shoulder, and she turned away.
“Why? I was watching the rain. John -- “ John loved standing in the rain.
“John’s not out there, sweetie. It’s dinnertime.”
Jill followed her mother into the kitchen.
A hand came down on John’s shoulder. “Hey, you shouldn’t be here.”
John ignored him. “I want Jill to come outside and see me. They’re keeping her away from me. I love her.”
The other boy laughed. “John, you’ve been dead for five days. She can’t see a ghost. Come on - crossover time.”
(Lyrics from I.V. by X Japan - see them here; link also includes the video)
Saturday, November 15, 2008
Project #5: Song Lyrics
This week, you have one to two hundred (100-200) words to write a scene that incorporates song lyrics. Your characters might be singing, a song might be playing in the background, or maybe some lyrics make for great dialogue. Do what you will; don't forget to credit the song and artist at the end of the post (that does not go toward your word count) and if you think it's a song someone else on the blog won't know, include a link to all the lyrics for the readers to see. Happy lyrical writing to all!
See how many ways you can rewrite a song.
See how many ways you can rewrite a song.
Overview #4 - Random Word
This week was an exercise in interesting. I liked it a lot. I actually wrote some poetry - and, oddly enough, was inspired later to just write a poem in the most inopportune place, while driving my car - and even though it wasn't good poetry, I recaptured some of my former grasp on images and metaphors. It was fun seeing how the two of us came up with very different interpretations of the random words we used. I did my best to try to come up with a use for the word beyond the most obvious one. Had I posted "endless" on heavy noir, I'm sure there would have been something about the characters from The Sandman. It was good to see what we could come up with.
This exercise really helped me deal with writer's block, with coming up with something random and new and fresh every time. I noticed that different scenes had predominant characteristics, such as dialogue, or description, or characterization, and I tried to go for a twist as often as possible. The snippets I wrote, I realize, encapsulate my basic approach to a short story - it has a technical focus, usually, and I try to give it a twist. It was a learning experience as a writer. I'm glad to see I can still write original fiction.
This exercise really helped me deal with writer's block, with coming up with something random and new and fresh every time. I noticed that different scenes had predominant characteristics, such as dialogue, or description, or characterization, and I tried to go for a twist as often as possible. The snippets I wrote, I realize, encapsulate my basic approach to a short story - it has a technical focus, usually, and I try to give it a twist. It was a learning experience as a writer. I'm glad to see I can still write original fiction.
Viewing
“So nice of you to come to the viewing,” Henrietta said, her tone anything but gracious.
Chris inclined his head politely, straightened his tie, stepped into the line. It was a sobering sight, a queue of humans dressed in black, snaking through the funeral parlor like a misplaced oriental dragon. All to see his grandfather.
Chris stepped up to the casket leaned down and pressed a kiss to the old man’s cold, unfeeling brow.
“I did it, Grandpa,” he said. “I did it for you.” He laid a box down on the soft white satin of the casket. Chris wouldn’t be at the funeral, but the rest of the family didn’t know that. As far as they were concerned, he was the stubborn child who grandfather had loved, who’d spurned grandfather’s care and dropped out of school, wasted his potential and all his relatives sacrificed for him.
Chris hadn’t wasted anything. Grandfather was the only one who knew that. When Chris swept past Aunt Henrietta, he flashed her a sarcastic smile. If someone dared open the box - for most people didn’t leave gifts till the funeral - they would find the heart of a dragon inside.
Chris had joined the Order.
Chris inclined his head politely, straightened his tie, stepped into the line. It was a sobering sight, a queue of humans dressed in black, snaking through the funeral parlor like a misplaced oriental dragon. All to see his grandfather.
Chris stepped up to the casket leaned down and pressed a kiss to the old man’s cold, unfeeling brow.
“I did it, Grandpa,” he said. “I did it for you.” He laid a box down on the soft white satin of the casket. Chris wouldn’t be at the funeral, but the rest of the family didn’t know that. As far as they were concerned, he was the stubborn child who grandfather had loved, who’d spurned grandfather’s care and dropped out of school, wasted his potential and all his relatives sacrificed for him.
Chris hadn’t wasted anything. Grandfather was the only one who knew that. When Chris swept past Aunt Henrietta, he flashed her a sarcastic smile. If someone dared open the box - for most people didn’t leave gifts till the funeral - they would find the heart of a dragon inside.
Chris had joined the Order.
Overview #4 Random word
Well I had fun this week, I worked mostly on prose but I got a poem out there after being inspired. I'll admit that I have a angst streak running through my writing at present, but sometimes angst makes for great plot and is a good vehicle to express your characters personality. Though I know I should be careful not to let it get to angsty, after all, who wants to read depressing, angry stuff all the time.
I enjoyed working with a new story line, it just started from the random oneword, but it seemed to fit with the random words during the week.
I sill need to work on grammar, but the content of my writing I feel is improving. I liked seeing the different takes that each of us had on a word. I know that even if we went like that for a long time, we would never have the same idea for how to treat each word.
I think by using the random words, this really creates opportunities for new stories to develop. The possible story in the Cathedral, the continuing story of Kim and David, the mysterious singer. I really had a good time this week. I love how one word can bring about an entire story.
(Next week is to you Master)
I enjoyed working with a new story line, it just started from the random oneword, but it seemed to fit with the random words during the week.
I sill need to work on grammar, but the content of my writing I feel is improving. I liked seeing the different takes that each of us had on a word. I know that even if we went like that for a long time, we would never have the same idea for how to treat each word.
I think by using the random words, this really creates opportunities for new stories to develop. The possible story in the Cathedral, the continuing story of Kim and David, the mysterious singer. I really had a good time this week. I love how one word can bring about an entire story.
(Next week is to you Master)
Viewing
Kim looked up at David as if viewing him for the first time. She was utterly confused. She had been surprised when he had pulled the power to her computer but was shocked when he had kissed her.
David smiled his quirky little smile, his hand resting gently on Kim's shoulder, breaking into a grin openly when Kim's mouth opened and closed a few times without making a sound. This was one of the first time that he had ever seen his friend speechless.
Kim raised a hand to her lips, as if to assure herself that what she had felt was real. She had never expected anything like this from David, after all he was handsome, he fit in more with the others than with her, and at times Kim did not know why he stuck around, why he was not repulsed.
In a flash, everything in the world was gone except for him, there was nothing except his bright eyes looking down on her. David watched her for a few minutes, trying to gauge her reaction. He sighed a little in relief when she smiled at him.
Gently moving her hand away from her mouth David leaned in for another kiss.
David smiled his quirky little smile, his hand resting gently on Kim's shoulder, breaking into a grin openly when Kim's mouth opened and closed a few times without making a sound. This was one of the first time that he had ever seen his friend speechless.
Kim raised a hand to her lips, as if to assure herself that what she had felt was real. She had never expected anything like this from David, after all he was handsome, he fit in more with the others than with her, and at times Kim did not know why he stuck around, why he was not repulsed.
In a flash, everything in the world was gone except for him, there was nothing except his bright eyes looking down on her. David watched her for a few minutes, trying to gauge her reaction. He sighed a little in relief when she smiled at him.
Gently moving her hand away from her mouth David leaned in for another kiss.
Friday, November 14, 2008
Care
Kim shrugged, "Why should I care?" She chewed her gum, staring at the computer screen in front of her.
“Don't you care about anything anymore?” David was getting frustrated, it would be near impossible to get through to her at this point.
“Again, can you give me a reason why I should? Anytime I care about anything it is perverted, or destroyed, turned against me.” Kim continued to type away at her keyboard. She as putting the finishing touches on a new program.
Kim continued before David could try to reason with her. “All my life I have been looked down on, despised, made fun of. Why do you think I live in my computer, why do you think that I am what I am. Simply put, I have ceased to care. About people, about anything at all.”
David placed a hand on her shoulder, and she shrugged out from under it. “Why are you here David? Really?”
David sighed and looked around, There was no way that he was getting through to her, without doing something drastic.
“Kim...”
“Just go away David, it's better this way.”
“No.”
David reached around and yanked the power cord from the wall. When Kim looked up at him in shock, he kissed her.
“Don't you care about anything anymore?” David was getting frustrated, it would be near impossible to get through to her at this point.
“Again, can you give me a reason why I should? Anytime I care about anything it is perverted, or destroyed, turned against me.” Kim continued to type away at her keyboard. She as putting the finishing touches on a new program.
Kim continued before David could try to reason with her. “All my life I have been looked down on, despised, made fun of. Why do you think I live in my computer, why do you think that I am what I am. Simply put, I have ceased to care. About people, about anything at all.”
David placed a hand on her shoulder, and she shrugged out from under it. “Why are you here David? Really?”
David sighed and looked around, There was no way that he was getting through to her, without doing something drastic.
“Kim...”
“Just go away David, it's better this way.”
“No.”
David reached around and yanked the power cord from the wall. When Kim looked up at him in shock, he kissed her.
Care
“It says the package is in care of me,” Roger said.
Tyler resisted the urge to heave a frustrated sigh and met his roommate’s gaze. “ ‘In care of’ does not mean subject to the search and inspection of’.”
Roger cast a careless glance at the open package and said, “What are you, a lawyer?”
“Nothing of the sort.” Tyler reached out and picked up the package. He checked its contents with deft, easy motions, ensuring that nothing had been damaged or unduly disturbed. “Did you take anything?”
“No.”
Tyler picked up the magazine and weighed it in his hand. “Then why am I missing two bullets?”
Roger’s eyes narrowed. “What the hell? How would you know I took some?”
Tyler slammed the magazine into the gun, cocked it with smoothly.. “Like I said, I’m not a lawyer. In fact, I’m nothing like one.”
“What are you, then?” Roger’s tone was flippant.
“A man who is easily annoyed by his roommates.” Tyler fired. The bullet hit, right between the eyes, but then he was a good shot. He stepped over Roger’s corpse and opened the front door. Several black-clad, armed men spilled into the apartment.
Tyler said, “Burn it all.”
Tyler resisted the urge to heave a frustrated sigh and met his roommate’s gaze. “ ‘In care of’ does not mean subject to the search and inspection of’.”
Roger cast a careless glance at the open package and said, “What are you, a lawyer?”
“Nothing of the sort.” Tyler reached out and picked up the package. He checked its contents with deft, easy motions, ensuring that nothing had been damaged or unduly disturbed. “Did you take anything?”
“No.”
Tyler picked up the magazine and weighed it in his hand. “Then why am I missing two bullets?”
Roger’s eyes narrowed. “What the hell? How would you know I took some?”
Tyler slammed the magazine into the gun, cocked it with smoothly.. “Like I said, I’m not a lawyer. In fact, I’m nothing like one.”
“What are you, then?” Roger’s tone was flippant.
“A man who is easily annoyed by his roommates.” Tyler fired. The bullet hit, right between the eyes, but then he was a good shot. He stepped over Roger’s corpse and opened the front door. Several black-clad, armed men spilled into the apartment.
Tyler said, “Burn it all.”
Thursday, November 13, 2008
Vain
“Your efforts have been in vain, good sir,” the nameless knight said.
From his spot on the ground, Valerian wasn’t sure the knight’s boastful tone had any merit. Granted, the man outweighed him, but that was mostly the armor, and Valerian wasn’t dead. Or disarmed. He swung his staff up and drove it straight into the knight’s midsection. The man let out an ungainly, pig-like squeak and toppled over like a felled siege tower. The sound of metal hitting the grass was strangely satisfying.
Valerian took his time climbing to his feet and dusting himself off. Then he went to stand over his attacker. He peered down into the knight’s dazed face, amused at the terror he saw when the knight realized his struggle to stand was, indeed, in vain.
“Perhaps, Sir Culligan, you’ll wait and ask a man’s name before you attempt to accost him in such a manner,” Valerian said. He tugged down the collar of his cloak so the knight could see the heavy ruby brooch all of the king’s sons wore, and the horror that blossomed on the knight’s face was gratifying.
“Now, if you would be so kind as to point me toward Amesbury.”
(200 on the nose)
From his spot on the ground, Valerian wasn’t sure the knight’s boastful tone had any merit. Granted, the man outweighed him, but that was mostly the armor, and Valerian wasn’t dead. Or disarmed. He swung his staff up and drove it straight into the knight’s midsection. The man let out an ungainly, pig-like squeak and toppled over like a felled siege tower. The sound of metal hitting the grass was strangely satisfying.
Valerian took his time climbing to his feet and dusting himself off. Then he went to stand over his attacker. He peered down into the knight’s dazed face, amused at the terror he saw when the knight realized his struggle to stand was, indeed, in vain.
“Perhaps, Sir Culligan, you’ll wait and ask a man’s name before you attempt to accost him in such a manner,” Valerian said. He tugged down the collar of his cloak so the knight could see the heavy ruby brooch all of the king’s sons wore, and the horror that blossomed on the knight’s face was gratifying.
“Now, if you would be so kind as to point me toward Amesbury.”
(200 on the nose)
Suspend
"I'm going to suspend you," Captain Jeffries said, "until IA is done investigating this case."
Detective Quinn nodded. "Of course. I'll just give you these, then." He placed his badge and sidearm on the table, saluted sarcastically, and walked out of the Captain's office. Tonight he was going to get rip-roaring drunk, call all of his old high school friends in a fit of stupidity, and then see about getting a new job in the morning. His partner had stabbed him in the back for the last time.
Detective Quinn nodded. "Of course. I'll just give you these, then." He placed his badge and sidearm on the table, saluted sarcastically, and walked out of the Captain's office. Tonight he was going to get rip-roaring drunk, call all of his old high school friends in a fit of stupidity, and then see about getting a new job in the morning. His partner had stabbed him in the back for the last time.
Suspend
Suspended... I never thought that I would hear that word, after all there was no trace, how could they have known it was me. I bet she just picked someone, anyone to blame it on, and she happened to pick me. I know she had her suspicions about the powder incident, but she had no lasting effects, I mean how was I supposed to know she was allergic to Maple pollen. And honestly, do they really think this is going to stop me. I can do anything from anywhere as long as I have a computer available. I can hack any system, I can change anything I want. Hell I might just give her straight F's for the rest of her school career.
The could not have known, and this will never appear on my record at any time.
(This is the new word from oneword.)
The could not have known, and this will never appear on my record at any time.
(This is the new word from oneword.)
Vain
Jill was vain and Kim knew it. She had the perfect body and the perfect face. Jill was always concerned about her appearance, checking herself at least ten times a day in her locker mirror to make sure that her make-up was perfect.
Kim watched from across the quad as Jill dusted powder all over her face, and smiled. Revenge is oh so sweet.
Kim was not even average by society standards, she was not pretty in even the loosest sense of the word, she had lank mousy brown hair and dull brown eyes, she had a bad complexion and she was not thin like the others. She was however a genius. This was the lot in life she had been designated to, having little personal contact she lived in the computer systems. She had hacked the schools database and had learned Jill's locker combination, there she had replaced part of her Ivory face powder with itching powder, just before first period of the day.
It was now lunch and Jill was at her locker, trying desperately to cover up the redness which her itching had awoken in her skin.
Kim smiled, she could hear Jill's scream from the second floor girls restroom.
(Ahhh revenge, word count came out at 200)
Kim watched from across the quad as Jill dusted powder all over her face, and smiled. Revenge is oh so sweet.
Kim was not even average by society standards, she was not pretty in even the loosest sense of the word, she had lank mousy brown hair and dull brown eyes, she had a bad complexion and she was not thin like the others. She was however a genius. This was the lot in life she had been designated to, having little personal contact she lived in the computer systems. She had hacked the schools database and had learned Jill's locker combination, there she had replaced part of her Ivory face powder with itching powder, just before first period of the day.
It was now lunch and Jill was at her locker, trying desperately to cover up the redness which her itching had awoken in her skin.
Kim smiled, she could hear Jill's scream from the second floor girls restroom.
(Ahhh revenge, word count came out at 200)
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Solo
Dime qué haría de mis días,
quien soñaría si no estas.
Cómo podría respirar el aire, lejos de ti.
Cuando no estas aquí.
Solo por ti, caminaría
en la infinidad.
Afrontaría
contigo la eternidad.
Solo por tí...
The seductively gentle voice washed over her, pulling her into it's depths, hypnotizing her. She would follow that voice into the fire's of hell itself.
Alastrina craned her neck to get a glimpse of the singer, but he was in shadows, the only thing visible was the flash of his smile, as his lips poured forth the soul snaring melody. There was a crush of bodies around the stage, and there was no getting through it.
Alastrina felt as if she had heard this voice before, as if it echoed in her soul, begging her to remember a past life. The translation slowly came to her.
Tell me what I would do
With my days
Who could dream
If you weren't there
How could I
Breathe the
Air, far from you
When you're not here
Only for you
I would walk
Into infinity
I would face
Eternity with you
Only for you
She had to find him, his voice called to her.
Remember.
(The song featured above is Solo por Ti, by Josh Groban. MMM that man can sing.
by the way, I don't know where this one came from or where it is going.)
quien soñaría si no estas.
Cómo podría respirar el aire, lejos de ti.
Cuando no estas aquí.
Solo por ti, caminaría
en la infinidad.
Afrontaría
contigo la eternidad.
Solo por tí...
The seductively gentle voice washed over her, pulling her into it's depths, hypnotizing her. She would follow that voice into the fire's of hell itself.
Alastrina craned her neck to get a glimpse of the singer, but he was in shadows, the only thing visible was the flash of his smile, as his lips poured forth the soul snaring melody. There was a crush of bodies around the stage, and there was no getting through it.
Alastrina felt as if she had heard this voice before, as if it echoed in her soul, begging her to remember a past life. The translation slowly came to her.
Tell me what I would do
With my days
Who could dream
If you weren't there
How could I
Breathe the
Air, far from you
When you're not here
Only for you
I would walk
Into infinity
I would face
Eternity with you
Only for you
She had to find him, his voice called to her.
Remember.
(The song featured above is Solo por Ti, by Josh Groban. MMM that man can sing.
by the way, I don't know where this one came from or where it is going.)
Solo
“Flying solo tonight, Maxwell?”
“Funny, Chang, unbelievably so.” He tugged on his gloves, tightened his scarf, checked his flight goggles.
“You can’t blame me - you chose your own name.” Chang looked older now, with short hair, but his face was as severe and serious as he’d been when he was sixteen. Walker might have suspected he’d cut his ponytail in response to Maxwell’s repeated taunts that he was the way he was because his ponytail was too tight, but Chang didn’t seem the like type who would be ruffled by something like that.
“That I did.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“Yes.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“Yes, I’m flying solo tonight.”
The corner of Chang’s mouth curved up in a genuine smile. “Always evasive and yet never lying.”
Maxwell’s smile might have been sunny on someone else who didn’t have those shadows in his eyes. “What can I say? I was Maxwell’s demon.”
Chang sang, voice surprisingly melodic, “Six feet down at age twenty-five.”
Maxwell nudged his shoulder playfully. “I didn’t think you were the type.”
“I have culture,” Chang said.
“That’s what you to call it.”
“So, Maxwell’s demon rides again?”
“The God of Death is back from hell.”
(Word count: 200 on the nose, references to Shin Kidousenki Gundam Wing; lyrics from The Ballad of Maxwell Demon by Shudder to Think)
“Funny, Chang, unbelievably so.” He tugged on his gloves, tightened his scarf, checked his flight goggles.
“You can’t blame me - you chose your own name.” Chang looked older now, with short hair, but his face was as severe and serious as he’d been when he was sixteen. Walker might have suspected he’d cut his ponytail in response to Maxwell’s repeated taunts that he was the way he was because his ponytail was too tight, but Chang didn’t seem the like type who would be ruffled by something like that.
“That I did.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“Yes.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“Yes, I’m flying solo tonight.”
The corner of Chang’s mouth curved up in a genuine smile. “Always evasive and yet never lying.”
Maxwell’s smile might have been sunny on someone else who didn’t have those shadows in his eyes. “What can I say? I was Maxwell’s demon.”
Chang sang, voice surprisingly melodic, “Six feet down at age twenty-five.”
Maxwell nudged his shoulder playfully. “I didn’t think you were the type.”
“I have culture,” Chang said.
“That’s what you to call it.”
“So, Maxwell’s demon rides again?”
“The God of Death is back from hell.”
(Word count: 200 on the nose, references to Shin Kidousenki Gundam Wing; lyrics from The Ballad of Maxwell Demon by Shudder to Think)
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
The Rules v. 1.2
All right! So far so good - we're doing well with the rules, adjusting them as necessary and whatnot. I'd just like to add an additional note about the tags and other references:
1. Tags/labels: we've added two new tags, "poetry" and "prose". Please use these tags (and you'll use either one of these tags for every post that isn't an overview, project assignment, or other administrative matter) whenever you post. Hopefully the number of poetry posts will grow as time goes on, but in the meantime there's nothing wrong if the "prose" tag has an overwhelming number of posts. There is an edit post function that allows a poster to go through and add the same tag to multiple posts, so if you feel it ought to be done, do it. As a general rule, try not to mess with someone else's tags, even though right now all the members here are administrators. A little friendly reminder or suggestion about a new tag or necessary tag is perfectly in order and should not be met with offense. In the writing section, the "dialogue" tag has also been added. Not every post will be about characterization, especially if it's a random character with whom the writer never works again, and projects may arise that focus on dialogue, so if a post doesn't focus much on characterization or description (i.e. of a place) see if the dialogue tag fits. Some days, the only tags that might apply are "random" and "prose", and that's fine.
2. References: if at any time a writer references what may be copyrighted material (i.e. song lyrics or something beyond fandom) go ahead and put a note of it in the post somewhere. We're all non-profit here, and some references like to books or shows are obviously copyrighted, but for a reference or allusion that's clear, we'd best throw in the answer (maybe at the bottom so as not to spoil the surprise), not only as a sort of CYA measure but also so other readers who are curious about the reference can find it easily and decide whether or not the allusion was apropos.
3. Drafts: if you do save a draft of a piece that you eventually post, make sure you delete the draft of the piece once you're done working with it so as to save space on the server. If you're confused about this, check the 'edit post' function or leave a message in the comment section and we'll get back to you.
1. Tags/labels: we've added two new tags, "poetry" and "prose". Please use these tags (and you'll use either one of these tags for every post that isn't an overview, project assignment, or other administrative matter) whenever you post. Hopefully the number of poetry posts will grow as time goes on, but in the meantime there's nothing wrong if the "prose" tag has an overwhelming number of posts. There is an edit post function that allows a poster to go through and add the same tag to multiple posts, so if you feel it ought to be done, do it. As a general rule, try not to mess with someone else's tags, even though right now all the members here are administrators. A little friendly reminder or suggestion about a new tag or necessary tag is perfectly in order and should not be met with offense. In the writing section, the "dialogue" tag has also been added. Not every post will be about characterization, especially if it's a random character with whom the writer never works again, and projects may arise that focus on dialogue, so if a post doesn't focus much on characterization or description (i.e. of a place) see if the dialogue tag fits. Some days, the only tags that might apply are "random" and "prose", and that's fine.
2. References: if at any time a writer references what may be copyrighted material (i.e. song lyrics or something beyond fandom) go ahead and put a note of it in the post somewhere. We're all non-profit here, and some references like to books or shows are obviously copyrighted, but for a reference or allusion that's clear, we'd best throw in the answer (maybe at the bottom so as not to spoil the surprise), not only as a sort of CYA measure but also so other readers who are curious about the reference can find it easily and decide whether or not the allusion was apropos.
3. Drafts: if you do save a draft of a piece that you eventually post, make sure you delete the draft of the piece once you're done working with it so as to save space on the server. If you're confused about this, check the 'edit post' function or leave a message in the comment section and we'll get back to you.
Cathedral
“Cathedral,” Cyrus said, “from the original Greek kathedra, stolen by the Romans and misspelled into cathedra, meaning seat, as in the seat or throne of the actual bishop, which resided in a specific church. Cathedral by itself is a misnomer - the proper name of this building is cathedral church.”
“Thanks for the lesson in etymology, oh Akashic Brother mine,” Morgan said, and dragged a finger up her forearm, tracing the blood tattoos, choosing. Magic whispered in the air as she drew a spear from her skin and spun it in the air. “That’s not why we’re here.”
“Such a cliché, in a cathedral like this,” Lyle said, and shifted his modified night-vision goggles. The exterior of the building sported stained glass windows and the flying buttresses of gothic nightmares. The interior had been bombed and was little more than a husk, the floor strewn with the remains of pews, cushions, quire seats.
“Cliché how?” Cyrus asked.
Selene sang softly, off-key, “You live in a church where you sleep with voodoo dolls.”
All four of them stared at the nest of rags that served as a bed; it was surrounded by voodoo dolls.
“Rogue mages,” Morgan said, and threw.
(Word count: 200 on the nose; oblique and vague reference to White Wolf's Mage: The Awakening; lyrics from Sarah McLachlan's "Building a Mystery")
“Thanks for the lesson in etymology, oh Akashic Brother mine,” Morgan said, and dragged a finger up her forearm, tracing the blood tattoos, choosing. Magic whispered in the air as she drew a spear from her skin and spun it in the air. “That’s not why we’re here.”
“Such a cliché, in a cathedral like this,” Lyle said, and shifted his modified night-vision goggles. The exterior of the building sported stained glass windows and the flying buttresses of gothic nightmares. The interior had been bombed and was little more than a husk, the floor strewn with the remains of pews, cushions, quire seats.
“Cliché how?” Cyrus asked.
Selene sang softly, off-key, “You live in a church where you sleep with voodoo dolls.”
All four of them stared at the nest of rags that served as a bed; it was surrounded by voodoo dolls.
“Rogue mages,” Morgan said, and threw.
(Word count: 200 on the nose; oblique and vague reference to White Wolf's Mage: The Awakening; lyrics from Sarah McLachlan's "Building a Mystery")
Cathedral
Whispers echoed through the ancient cathedral, ghosts of ages past and promises of the future.
Amara ran her fingers over the worn stonework and gazed up in wonder at the impossibly high ceilings, they defied gravity. The pews were of dark stained and scarred wood, the cushions were threadbare and deteriorating.
Amara jumped ever so slightly when the bells tolled out the hours, it was twilight. Nervous, Amara backed up, she had no idea that anyone was here, it had looked abandoned from the front.
Stepping back Amara let out a small scream as she stepped out onto nothing. Wide eyed, Amara pinwheeled her arms, trying to regain her balance when a hand came out of no where and grabbed her wrist.
Amara felt herself pulled forward, away from the gaping darkness below her; into a solid chest.
Gasping she had wrapped her arms around the person before her, trying to steady herself. When she had control over herself she looked up, and into the most piercing green eyes she had ever seen. The smile matched the twinkle of amusement in the handsome face before her.
"That was a close one," the stranger said, pulling Amara away from the stairs.
Amara ran her fingers over the worn stonework and gazed up in wonder at the impossibly high ceilings, they defied gravity. The pews were of dark stained and scarred wood, the cushions were threadbare and deteriorating.
Amara jumped ever so slightly when the bells tolled out the hours, it was twilight. Nervous, Amara backed up, she had no idea that anyone was here, it had looked abandoned from the front.
Stepping back Amara let out a small scream as she stepped out onto nothing. Wide eyed, Amara pinwheeled her arms, trying to regain her balance when a hand came out of no where and grabbed her wrist.
Amara felt herself pulled forward, away from the gaping darkness below her; into a solid chest.
Gasping she had wrapped her arms around the person before her, trying to steady herself. When she had control over herself she looked up, and into the most piercing green eyes she had ever seen. The smile matched the twinkle of amusement in the handsome face before her.
"That was a close one," the stranger said, pulling Amara away from the stairs.
Monday, November 10, 2008
Convertible
"It's a convertible," Joe said proudly.
Jesse stared at the lumpy sofa-turned-futon and nodded. "Thanks, mate, I really appreciate it."
Joe peered closer. "Dude, you have a black eye."
Jesse ducked back out of Joe's reach. "Mobbed by fans. It's no big deal." He dropped his duffel bag on the floor. "Thanks again."
Joe nodded and headed for the door. "Sleep well. Stop any burglars for me."
Jesse laughed. "If you think I can."
Jesse stared at the lumpy sofa-turned-futon and nodded. "Thanks, mate, I really appreciate it."
Joe peered closer. "Dude, you have a black eye."
Jesse ducked back out of Joe's reach. "Mobbed by fans. It's no big deal." He dropped his duffel bag on the floor. "Thanks again."
Joe nodded and headed for the door. "Sleep well. Stop any burglars for me."
Jesse laughed. "If you think I can."
Convertible
The convertible flew down the highway faster than was safe, faster than she could see. She couldn't see anyway, her tears were coming to thick to be able to make out much of the road through the windshield. She was fleeing, trying to escape the pain of all that was behind her, she didn't know if she could get far enough away to make a difference, to be able to put it all behind her.
Endless
(Authors note: poem for poem my friend, and it turned out to be 100 words on the nose, though I was not trying for that.)
He promised me an endless summer,
but all I have is winter, barren and cold
He promised me rainbows and pots of gold,
and all I got was a patch of thorns.
He promised to make me fly, together forever,
my wings are broken beyond repair.
He promised me a dream,
I got the nightmare.
He promised a soul for a soul,
He sent a wraith.
He promised inspiration,
There was only a cloud of confusion.
He promised laughter,
he left tears behind.
He promised me trust,
he lied.
He promised me an endless summer,
but all I have is winter, barren and cold
He promised me rainbows and pots of gold,
and all I got was a patch of thorns.
He promised to make me fly, together forever,
my wings are broken beyond repair.
He promised me a dream,
I got the nightmare.
He promised a soul for a soul,
He sent a wraith.
He promised inspiration,
There was only a cloud of confusion.
He promised laughter,
he left tears behind.
He promised me trust,
he lied.
Endless
Endless rain to drench a ray of sunshine,
Soaked through to the bone and shivering,
Trembling, teeth clenched to stave off the sobs,
Breath locked in his throat surceases sound.
Head tipped back
As rivulets trace lines, stories, poems down his skin,
The trip-hammer of raindrops on his face
Is the too-fast rhythm in his chest.
Fall on my heart
He sings,
On the wound of my heart
And it drips, fire-brand ache, a gash through living flesh.
He prays,
Let me forget
All of the hate
All of the sadness.
When the clouds scatter like birds
At the sound of gunfire
He’ll wish he’d had metal
And his choice of lightning.
(Word count comes in at 115; lyrics cribbed off of X Japan's Endless Rain)
Soaked through to the bone and shivering,
Trembling, teeth clenched to stave off the sobs,
Breath locked in his throat surceases sound.
Head tipped back
As rivulets trace lines, stories, poems down his skin,
The trip-hammer of raindrops on his face
Is the too-fast rhythm in his chest.
Fall on my heart
He sings,
On the wound of my heart
And it drips, fire-brand ache, a gash through living flesh.
He prays,
Let me forget
All of the hate
All of the sadness.
When the clouds scatter like birds
At the sound of gunfire
He’ll wish he’d had metal
And his choice of lightning.
(Word count comes in at 115; lyrics cribbed off of X Japan's Endless Rain)
Sunday, November 9, 2008
Addled
(Author's Note (which does not go toward word count): I'll be the first to admit that my sense of random is impaired by the fact that I'm working on multiple projects right now, so I've decided to take advantage of these exercises to do vignettes and work out the kinks and characters for other projects.)
“I think he’s addled, mate,” Thom said.
Jesse dragged a hand through his hair and sighed again.
Leonard smirked. “I see your years at the Masque have taught you your melodrama well.”
Jesse scowled at Leonard. “When I sigh loudly, it doesn’t mean I’m being melodramatic. It means I’m frustrated and this close to breaking your face.”
That earned a laugh. “Get over yourself, Carlisle - you couldn’t hurt me if you tried.”
Jesse sighed again. It was too true. He was an actor and a musician, not an athlete. He wasn’t sure how he kept landing roles where he was supposed to be some super-athletic, muscular heartthrob. Maybe all those years in the Masque had, to prove his father’s fears, turned him into a girly-boy.
“Do you even know anything about that girl?” Thom asked. “I mean, she must have been something, for you to just give her your work number like that.”
Jesse glanced at his mobile where it lay on the table, reminding him of his momentary insanity. “I can’t explain it,” he said. “She was - incredible. Friendly. Open. Sane about the fact that I am who I am.”
“What was her name?” Leonard asked.
“Asia.”
“I think he’s addled, mate,” Thom said.
Jesse dragged a hand through his hair and sighed again.
Leonard smirked. “I see your years at the Masque have taught you your melodrama well.”
Jesse scowled at Leonard. “When I sigh loudly, it doesn’t mean I’m being melodramatic. It means I’m frustrated and this close to breaking your face.”
That earned a laugh. “Get over yourself, Carlisle - you couldn’t hurt me if you tried.”
Jesse sighed again. It was too true. He was an actor and a musician, not an athlete. He wasn’t sure how he kept landing roles where he was supposed to be some super-athletic, muscular heartthrob. Maybe all those years in the Masque had, to prove his father’s fears, turned him into a girly-boy.
“Do you even know anything about that girl?” Thom asked. “I mean, she must have been something, for you to just give her your work number like that.”
Jesse glanced at his mobile where it lay on the table, reminding him of his momentary insanity. “I can’t explain it,” he said. “She was - incredible. Friendly. Open. Sane about the fact that I am who I am.”
“What was her name?” Leonard asked.
“Asia.”
Addled
It was not just the kiss, but the fair ride that had left her feeling addled and dizzy. Samantha brought her mind into focus upon the man in front of her, smiling.
"um, what was I saying?" She asked still bemused.
Ben grinned, moving closer to her again, "I believe you were saying this." His lips descended again to hers, stealing her breath and spinning her thought away into the world of absolute sensation.
Sam pulled back, gulping for breath and flashed another smile. Taking Ben by the hand she towed him towards another ride.
Ben raised his eyebrows in surprise, he knew Sam was not usually a romantic type of person, so her choice of rides surprised him, "The Tunnel of Love?"
Samantha winked at him, "Well, you started it, I just want to get the most out of it." She pulled him into the darkness, moving close to him, ready to be addled again.
"um, what was I saying?" She asked still bemused.
Ben grinned, moving closer to her again, "I believe you were saying this." His lips descended again to hers, stealing her breath and spinning her thought away into the world of absolute sensation.
Sam pulled back, gulping for breath and flashed another smile. Taking Ben by the hand she towed him towards another ride.
Ben raised his eyebrows in surprise, he knew Sam was not usually a romantic type of person, so her choice of rides surprised him, "The Tunnel of Love?"
Samantha winked at him, "Well, you started it, I just want to get the most out of it." She pulled him into the darkness, moving close to him, ready to be addled again.
Project # 4 Random word under 200
Okay, this week it should be fairly simple, or perhaps not.
We rotate every day this week picking a random word, it can be any word. Your work can take the form of prose or poetry. The limit is 200 words. It can be shorter than that, but no longer.
I hope this one is fun.
We rotate every day this week picking a random word, it can be any word. Your work can take the form of prose or poetry. The limit is 200 words. It can be shorter than that, but no longer.
I hope this one is fun.
Overview #3 Showing
I found this weeks project to be both fun and challenging. I have been in such a habit of telling that it was hard to get into the swing of showing. When I choose a bit to show about I tried to pick something that would show well, that I could more fully explain by showing. A bit of their thought, or their emotion. Part of their personality.
I tried to show them as dynamic characters, and once I got the hang of showing, I found it very enjoyable, the immediacy of the showing rather than the distance of the telling, became rather exciting, I could bring their personalities and situations into a greater focus and I was able to show them for what they are.
Showing also helped my word counts, before I would struggle to get what I wanted into the word limit, but it was easier with the showing to be able to do that. I found that it was funner to interact with my characters in this way.
I have learned a lot this week, I am really enjoying working on this and seeing the improvement to my own work. I also enjoy being able to read your work every day.
I tried to show them as dynamic characters, and once I got the hang of showing, I found it very enjoyable, the immediacy of the showing rather than the distance of the telling, became rather exciting, I could bring their personalities and situations into a greater focus and I was able to show them for what they are.
Showing also helped my word counts, before I would struggle to get what I wanted into the word limit, but it was easier with the showing to be able to do that. I found that it was funner to interact with my characters in this way.
I have learned a lot this week, I am really enjoying working on this and seeing the improvement to my own work. I also enjoy being able to read your work every day.
Overview #3: Showing, not telling
So I remembered my own rules, and here it is, this week's overview. This was harder than I thought it would be. Now, don't get me wrong, I've been writing long enough that I've learned the difference between showing and telling, and sometimes telling is strategic to compress time for the sake of narration so I don't bore my readers to death with pointless details or side-stories or back-stories that do nothing whatsoever to further the plot. The hard part was going back and looking at the posts for the characters I'd written and trying to decide what needed to be shown. Some things don't need to be shown. Sometimes adequate description, i.e. telling, can go a long way, as brevity has more impact than long-windedness. It took me a moment, or two, but then I remembered that, even though these drabbles are an exercise in the discipline of brevity and are taken in isolation, when I finally put all this work to use, it'll be in the context of a novel or a short story. That being realized, I reminded myself that stories, like people, have memories, and that if I told something in one place it could be that I'd shown it before and I needed to remind my readers of a certain point about a character. Thus, I chose moments that were told that would have an interesting back-story if shown. Once I had that down, it was fun, coming up with explanations for moments. I was also reminded of an idea that I'd seen while reading fanfic, and I want to try it out sometime. It proves the new dimensions that the internet and electronic media have added to the art of literature. I thought, well, what if I wrote a story, short or long, and every now and again, in a moment of telling, I could turn that word or phrase into a hyperlink and link it off to an independent moment that, while not integral to the plot, provided some back-story or an interesting moment to give the readers more details of the story as they go along. But that's a project for another day.
In summary, then, showing is more effective than telling if you've the time and space and it's important to the plot of the story. (At this point I'd have to make a lawyer-like argument and say that characterization, like witness credibility, is always relevant to the plot of a story, although the theory is that the conflicts in the plot are what allow a character to develop. Sometimes it's the small moments that make a character, not the big tragedies, the same way it's the small decisions, not the big ones, that develop us as people.)
P.S. Madness, this week's challenge is your turn. I've already thought mine up for next week.
In summary, then, showing is more effective than telling if you've the time and space and it's important to the plot of the story. (At this point I'd have to make a lawyer-like argument and say that characterization, like witness credibility, is always relevant to the plot of a story, although the theory is that the conflicts in the plot are what allow a character to develop. Sometimes it's the small moments that make a character, not the big tragedies, the same way it's the small decisions, not the big ones, that develop us as people.)
P.S. Madness, this week's challenge is your turn. I've already thought mine up for next week.
Cow
Cow! The note was scribbled on her locker.
'Cow huh...'
The girl, not pretty but powerful, made her decision. It was to be utter obliteration for these people. She would show them all, she would teach them what it was to be ridiculed, to be hated for how they looked.
'Cow huh...'
The girl, not pretty but powerful, made her decision. It was to be utter obliteration for these people. She would show them all, she would teach them what it was to be ridiculed, to be hated for how they looked.
Cow
The cows in the field were dull and slow and not nearly as interesting to watch as they'd been in the cowboy movies he'd seen as a child. Jesse supposed he ought to have been more patient and understand that America wasn't quaint like he'd seen in films as England was no more quaint than Yanks thought it was from what they saw in films. Maybe if he lived here long enough he'd understand what it meant to be American, even if he never really became one.
Saturday, November 8, 2008
Kim Jo Seung - Deceptively Sweet
Original tell: he has a deceptively sweet smile
Showing:
Jo Seung smiled brightly as he stepped out onto the street. He had his hands jammed into the pockets of his hoodie. A few girls giggled as he passed, and he inclined his head politely. After a few too many stares, he tugged his hood up over his black hair and down to shadow his face. It wouldn’t do him any good if someone remembered him. Once he made it out of K-town, no one would look at him twice. He was still smiling brightly when he slit his target’s throat, but the glint in his eyes was murderous.
Showing:
Jo Seung smiled brightly as he stepped out onto the street. He had his hands jammed into the pockets of his hoodie. A few girls giggled as he passed, and he inclined his head politely. After a few too many stares, he tugged his hood up over his black hair and down to shadow his face. It wouldn’t do him any good if someone remembered him. Once he made it out of K-town, no one would look at him twice. He was still smiling brightly when he slit his target’s throat, but the glint in his eyes was murderous.
Gescano, Call of Duty
Original Tell: His life was duty and service, protection of his master.
Showing:
“My Lord!” Gescano sprinted to intercept the blow descending upon his fallen master. Bringing his sword swiftly into position he deftly blocked the stroke that would have killed his master. Beating back the attacker he quickly disarmed and killed the man.
He swiftly dispatched the others in the attacking group, to the last man. Gescano, swinging his sword like a man possessed, his blade moving faster than the eye could detect. Every movement sure and deadly, he stood between his master and the enemy.
Gescano turned, offering a dirty hand to his master to help him up.
“More practice.”
Showing:
“My Lord!” Gescano sprinted to intercept the blow descending upon his fallen master. Bringing his sword swiftly into position he deftly blocked the stroke that would have killed his master. Beating back the attacker he quickly disarmed and killed the man.
He swiftly dispatched the others in the attacking group, to the last man. Gescano, swinging his sword like a man possessed, his blade moving faster than the eye could detect. Every movement sure and deadly, he stood between his master and the enemy.
Gescano turned, offering a dirty hand to his master to help him up.
“More practice.”
Friday, November 7, 2008
Xin makes a choice
Original Tell: She never doubted who she was and what she wanted.
Showing:
Xin had made her choice, she wanted no other.
Xin's arms snaked out, encircling the man beside her, pulling him back into her warm embrace.
“Where do you think you are going?” She asked Sheva.
Xin silenced whatever he was going to say, pressing her lips to his in a passionate kiss. Sheva returned it, loosing himself in the sensory overload. Xin finally broke it off, breathing hard and smiling, her lips bare inches from his.
“Why me?” Sheva asked, struggling to catch his breath.
“Because I want you, and because I love you, I always have.”
Showing:
Xin had made her choice, she wanted no other.
Xin's arms snaked out, encircling the man beside her, pulling him back into her warm embrace.
“Where do you think you are going?” She asked Sheva.
Xin silenced whatever he was going to say, pressing her lips to his in a passionate kiss. Sheva returned it, loosing himself in the sensory overload. Xin finally broke it off, breathing hard and smiling, her lips bare inches from his.
“Why me?” Sheva asked, struggling to catch his breath.
“Because I want you, and because I love you, I always have.”
Thomas Malvolio Phillips: on Romeo and Juliet
Original telling: Kisses and heartaches, madness and murder - Tom liked them better when he had to memorize their lines.
Showing:
“What was it like, kissing her?” Jono asked.
Tom smiled faintly. “Palm to palm is holy palmer’s kiss.”
Mike looked confused. Jono shook his head and muttered, “Bloody Shakespeare.”
“But she broke your heart, didn’t she?” Mike asked.
Tom laughed.
“A broken heart’s not funny,” Mike said.
Tom threw his head back and laughed more. His friends stared until he finally subsided, and then he said, still hiccuping with laughter, “If love be rough with you, be rough with love; prick love for pricking, and you beat love down.”
After a moment, all three laughed. Tom never answered their questions.
Showing:
“What was it like, kissing her?” Jono asked.
Tom smiled faintly. “Palm to palm is holy palmer’s kiss.”
Mike looked confused. Jono shook his head and muttered, “Bloody Shakespeare.”
“But she broke your heart, didn’t she?” Mike asked.
Tom laughed.
“A broken heart’s not funny,” Mike said.
Tom threw his head back and laughed more. His friends stared until he finally subsided, and then he said, still hiccuping with laughter, “If love be rough with you, be rough with love; prick love for pricking, and you beat love down.”
After a moment, all three laughed. Tom never answered their questions.
Thursday, November 6, 2008
Garain, the Godess
Original Tell: Her smile was the sun and her tears the life of the world.
Showing:
Garain willed herself into life. She blinked in confusion for a moment, and realized that she was strong. Grinning widely, Garain ran the length and breadth of the world, from ocean to ocean she laughed.
Garain skidded to a halt, she did not know what that sound was, but she intended to find out, Stooping low she saw a small girl, tears running down her cheeks.
'I wonder if I can do that too,' Garain thought, trying to cry.
The heavens thundered down a storm.
“Don't cry little one,” Garain said smiling, and the sun shined again.
“Peace be to you.”
Showing:
Garain willed herself into life. She blinked in confusion for a moment, and realized that she was strong. Grinning widely, Garain ran the length and breadth of the world, from ocean to ocean she laughed.
Garain skidded to a halt, she did not know what that sound was, but she intended to find out, Stooping low she saw a small girl, tears running down her cheeks.
'I wonder if I can do that too,' Garain thought, trying to cry.
The heavens thundered down a storm.
“Don't cry little one,” Garain said smiling, and the sun shined again.
“Peace be to you.”
Jesse Carlisle: once more with feeling
Original tell: On the dimly-lit stage in a crowded coffee shop, he was a musician instead of a superstar.
Showing:
The coffee shop was crowded with students from the local university, and they were too busy to chatting about Foucault and Descartes to pay attention to the boy perched on the three-legged stool, strumming at a battered acoustic guitar. Jesse kept his head low and his hat pulled over his hair and played determinedly, willing his hands not to forget the chords. These same students - mostly female - had screamed his name and thronged for him at the premiere last night in Leicester Square. Now they looked right at him and applauded politely, unseeing, and he was glad for it.
Showing:
The coffee shop was crowded with students from the local university, and they were too busy to chatting about Foucault and Descartes to pay attention to the boy perched on the three-legged stool, strumming at a battered acoustic guitar. Jesse kept his head low and his hat pulled over his hair and played determinedly, willing his hands not to forget the chords. These same students - mostly female - had screamed his name and thronged for him at the premiere last night in Leicester Square. Now they looked right at him and applauded politely, unseeing, and he was glad for it.
Cathalan
Original Tell: Cathalan's eyes went distant as he remembered how he got to where he was.
Showing:
Cathalan winced at the flood of memories, his father before him was Lord Helvan Slehn. He died a short while ago, pushing his responsibility onto Cathalan's young shoulders.
Cathalan rose, muttering, before the sun each morning, and dragged himself to bed each night long after the sun was down. He rolled his eyes as he dealt with petty disputes among the people, and after a while all he heard was “Blah, blah, blah.”
“You know, I like working with you Gescano, you expect me to be more than I am. More than what everyone expects me to be.”
Showing:
Cathalan winced at the flood of memories, his father before him was Lord Helvan Slehn. He died a short while ago, pushing his responsibility onto Cathalan's young shoulders.
Cathalan rose, muttering, before the sun each morning, and dragged himself to bed each night long after the sun was down. He rolled his eyes as he dealt with petty disputes among the people, and after a while all he heard was “Blah, blah, blah.”
“You know, I like working with you Gescano, you expect me to be more than I am. More than what everyone expects me to be.”
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
Kim Jo Seung - remix
Original Tell: At first the Mexican boys were dubious
Showing:
“What you doin’ here, pretty boy?” one dancer asked. His friends laughed.
Jo Seung shrugged and smiled easily. “I’m here to dance.”
The dancer circled him, eyeing him up and down. “Asian boys don’t dance - you just work too hard in school and eat lots of rice.”
“I dance,” Jo Seung said.
The other boys exchanged derisive smiles, laughed again. The dancer stepped back and gestured to the linoleum mat. “Show us what you got, pretty Asian boy.”
“My name is Kim Jo Seung,” he said. “Remember that.” And he proceeded to defy the laws of gravity and human flexibility.
Showing:
“What you doin’ here, pretty boy?” one dancer asked. His friends laughed.
Jo Seung shrugged and smiled easily. “I’m here to dance.”
The dancer circled him, eyeing him up and down. “Asian boys don’t dance - you just work too hard in school and eat lots of rice.”
“I dance,” Jo Seung said.
The other boys exchanged derisive smiles, laughed again. The dancer stepped back and gestured to the linoleum mat. “Show us what you got, pretty Asian boy.”
“My name is Kim Jo Seung,” he said. “Remember that.” And he proceeded to defy the laws of gravity and human flexibility.
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Xin
Original Tell: Xin would never betray her crew
Showing:
Xin grunted in pain as the armored man used her as a punching bag, She gasped as she felt a rib break, squeezing her eyes closed against the pain.
“Tell me where they are and this will stop,” the Lord said from the far side of the room.
Xin shook her head slowly, another pointed refusal. She raised her drooping head and looked at the Lord. Defiance flashed in her eyes and she spit in his direction.
Xin braced herself for the blow she knew would come, metal slashing through flesh.
“Death before betrayal,” were Xin's last words.
Showing:
Xin grunted in pain as the armored man used her as a punching bag, She gasped as she felt a rib break, squeezing her eyes closed against the pain.
“Tell me where they are and this will stop,” the Lord said from the far side of the room.
Xin shook her head slowly, another pointed refusal. She raised her drooping head and looked at the Lord. Defiance flashed in her eyes and she spit in his direction.
Xin braced herself for the blow she knew would come, metal slashing through flesh.
“Death before betrayal,” were Xin's last words.
Okita Megumi: Brittle to Break
Original telling: she was just as brittle to break [as iron].
Showing:
“He almost died,” Genevieve said.
Meg was still as stone, barely breathing.
“Your plan was risky. You’d never let your shinobi try it, would you?” Genevieve continued.
Meg said nothing.
“She’d have let her shinobi do it,” Lawrence said. “But they’ve had a lifetime of training for moments like that. For acting like bait. For a serial killer.”
“Why did you do it?” Elizabetta asked. “You love him.”
“That’s why she did it,” Lawrence said. “She’d rather he be dead than she have to deal face herself.”
Meg sank to her knees and drew her tanto. She said, “Hara kiri.”
Showing:
“He almost died,” Genevieve said.
Meg was still as stone, barely breathing.
“Your plan was risky. You’d never let your shinobi try it, would you?” Genevieve continued.
Meg said nothing.
“She’d have let her shinobi do it,” Lawrence said. “But they’ve had a lifetime of training for moments like that. For acting like bait. For a serial killer.”
“Why did you do it?” Elizabetta asked. “You love him.”
“That’s why she did it,” Lawrence said. “She’d rather he be dead than she have to deal face herself.”
Meg sank to her knees and drew her tanto. She said, “Hara kiri.”
Monday, November 3, 2008
Kinoria Revisited
Original Telling: Kinoria was dangerous.
Showing:
Kinoria sat to her work, her motions sure as she mixed poisons and powders on her workbench. Turning she selected a thin wicked looking dagger from her collection against the wall and applied a thin coating of one poison to it, it would work quickly.
She crouched in the shadows, waiting for her target to come near, she didn't really care who it was, some drunken, lecherous nobleman most likely. Kinoria stood, spying her target. She stepped out into the light, she was breathtaking, and she beckoned him to go with her. She deftly slipped the dagger into his heart.
Showing:
Kinoria sat to her work, her motions sure as she mixed poisons and powders on her workbench. Turning she selected a thin wicked looking dagger from her collection against the wall and applied a thin coating of one poison to it, it would work quickly.
She crouched in the shadows, waiting for her target to come near, she didn't really care who it was, some drunken, lecherous nobleman most likely. Kinoria stood, spying her target. She stepped out into the light, she was breathtaking, and she beckoned him to go with her. She deftly slipped the dagger into his heart.
Jamal Mbaya - back again
Original tell: the tattoo on his left wrist was more than four lines
Showing:
“Doctor, what do those marks mean?”
Jamal tugged the sleeve of his white coat lower over his left wrist and resolved to buy a leather wristband to cover it.
“Is it a bad mark?” the little girl asked.
Jamal shook his head. “No. It is private. That’s all.”
“I’m sorry.” The little girl hung her head.
Jamal smiled gently and finished bandaging her leg. Then he tugged up his sleeve and said, “I’ll tell you, but it’s a secret.”
She nodded.
“The four lines mean duty, secrecy, ruthlessness, and fearlessness.”
“I don’t understand,” she said.
“I hope you never do.”
Showing:
“Doctor, what do those marks mean?”
Jamal tugged the sleeve of his white coat lower over his left wrist and resolved to buy a leather wristband to cover it.
“Is it a bad mark?” the little girl asked.
Jamal shook his head. “No. It is private. That’s all.”
“I’m sorry.” The little girl hung her head.
Jamal smiled gently and finished bandaging her leg. Then he tugged up his sleeve and said, “I’ll tell you, but it’s a secret.”
She nodded.
“The four lines mean duty, secrecy, ruthlessness, and fearlessness.”
“I don’t understand,” she said.
“I hope you never do.”
Sunday, November 2, 2008
Alexander Duma: Redux
Original tell: He was Alexander Dumas, he could read.
Showing:
Squinting in the dim candle light, the shadowed figure tried to make out the faded words on the pages, jumping every time he heard the slightest noise, fearing it was the Enforcers.
He shifted nervously, he knew it was to risky to be doing what he was doing, but he could not help himself, the words entranced him, weaving him in their binding spell. He whispered the words to himself, not more than the hush of a breath.
Alexander heard the scuff of a footstep and swiftly his the fragile papers under a stone in a hollowed out corner nearby.
Showing:
Squinting in the dim candle light, the shadowed figure tried to make out the faded words on the pages, jumping every time he heard the slightest noise, fearing it was the Enforcers.
He shifted nervously, he knew it was to risky to be doing what he was doing, but he could not help himself, the words entranced him, weaving him in their binding spell. He whispered the words to himself, not more than the hush of a breath.
Alexander heard the scuff of a footstep and swiftly his the fragile papers under a stone in a hollowed out corner nearby.
Overview #1 Original and HP-Verse
Okay, since I have never done an overview before, don't be to disappointed if it sucks.
HP-Verse:
I did notice that I stayed away for the most part from the main characters, picking one's that do not have to much cannon to them, so that I could explore or rather put in what I wanted. Which might have been a mistake, I mean picking a character like the centaurs, while interesting and fun, because there is not much cannon to them I probably took to much liberty with them. Also with a couple of other less known characters. I also did to much telling and not enough showing, but of course I need to work on that.
Original Characters:
I actually had a tougher time of this than the HP-Verse. My characters are not so well fleshed out to make it easy at times, and also not as well developed as I would have liked, going into the project. Many of the characters are in fact part of the same grouping of people, Their story is developing but does not really have a set story yet, so their personalities change. I again did more telling than showing. My grammar mistakes I think are getting better, at least there are fewer of them.
HP-Verse:
I did notice that I stayed away for the most part from the main characters, picking one's that do not have to much cannon to them, so that I could explore or rather put in what I wanted. Which might have been a mistake, I mean picking a character like the centaurs, while interesting and fun, because there is not much cannon to them I probably took to much liberty with them. Also with a couple of other less known characters. I also did to much telling and not enough showing, but of course I need to work on that.
Original Characters:
I actually had a tougher time of this than the HP-Verse. My characters are not so well fleshed out to make it easy at times, and also not as well developed as I would have liked, going into the project. Many of the characters are in fact part of the same grouping of people, Their story is developing but does not really have a set story yet, so their personalities change. I again did more telling than showing. My grammar mistakes I think are getting better, at least there are fewer of them.
Jesse Carlisle revisited
Original telling: "Jesse hated being called pretty."
Showing:
Jesse stared at the staff paper, trying to hear the music in his head. One of the other actors clapped him on the shoulder.
“Don’t wrinkle your brow so hard when you think, pretty boy,” he said.
Jesse’s shoulders tightened, and his grip on his pencil went white-knuckled.
The other actor laughed. “Don’t look so angry, Carlisle. Only with your pretty face I’m sure the fangirls will call you broody and swoon some more.” Then he peered closer. “What are you doing?”
Jesse slammed his notebook shut and was on his feet. “Sorry, I’ve got to leave.” He fled.
Showing:
Jesse stared at the staff paper, trying to hear the music in his head. One of the other actors clapped him on the shoulder.
“Don’t wrinkle your brow so hard when you think, pretty boy,” he said.
Jesse’s shoulders tightened, and his grip on his pencil went white-knuckled.
The other actor laughed. “Don’t look so angry, Carlisle. Only with your pretty face I’m sure the fangirls will call you broody and swoon some more.” Then he peered closer. “What are you doing?”
Jesse slammed his notebook shut and was on his feet. “Sorry, I’ve got to leave.” He fled.
Project #3: Show 'n' Tell
This week, you have 100 words to show something that has already been told. Go back through your posts on original characters and look for something that was told but that you didn't have room to show. Post an expansion on that thing told but not shown. Include the original "tell" from the previous post; it won't go toward your 100 words, and then do your best to show what was previously told. Good luck, and happy writing!
Overview #1 & 2 - HP Fandom and Original Characters
So in the rules I posted that we were supposed to do an overview a week and then I promptly broke my own rule. But still, here it is. Usually I'd feel guilty about spamming the blog, but between the two of us, things should be all right.
HP Fandom was good times, but that's because I spend so much time reading and writing fanfic for it. And I love Cedric Diggory and Draco Malfoy in bizarre and equal terms, as well as me loving Remus Lupin. And Severus Snape. I mean, sure, Harry's cool and all, but he's the protagonist, and everything is about him. I really, really wanted to do a piece on Regulus Black, because I think he's been rather left in the cold, though not as much since DH came out. I found that, despite my best intentions, my descriptions of places ended up actually being descriptions of people, but then the character of a place is in its history, and history is people, so that works. I was pleased with myself for branching out and trying new things, like with Remus (whom I've never properly written before except as a secondary character) and Tobias Snape (who doesn't get much fandom love either). The trick with fandom is walking the fine line between canon of a character and throwing in your own original twist. Maybe that's why I prefer secondary characters, because there's more room to play.
As far as original characters go, my initial intention was to do drabbles for the boys and girls in the HN novel. Then I remembered that many of those characters are based on real people and I did drabbles for those real people, so I'll have to get some more flesh on those characters' bones before I can pull off a real drabble for each of them. I found that it's difficult to describe a character in isolation without coming off all Sweet Valley like (which I was definitely guilty of when I was younger). Novels and stories aren't meant to have a dramatis personae section in the front or the back (unless it's a Russian novel, or 100 Years of Solitude, because then there are so many characters that a dramatis personae section is necessary). Since boring, cliché introductions are no good as a literary device, I discovered that a vignette style worked best, one that had a slice of plot or action, because a description of an original character falls flat if he or she is not in action. I discovered, as well, that characterization and description go hand in hand, though it's easy to do too much of one and not the other. It was a good two weeks for me, because I love making new characters (and am far less successful at finishing stories with them). Characters should be the heart and soul of fiction, and I got in some good practice.
HP Fandom was good times, but that's because I spend so much time reading and writing fanfic for it. And I love Cedric Diggory and Draco Malfoy in bizarre and equal terms, as well as me loving Remus Lupin. And Severus Snape. I mean, sure, Harry's cool and all, but he's the protagonist, and everything is about him. I really, really wanted to do a piece on Regulus Black, because I think he's been rather left in the cold, though not as much since DH came out. I found that, despite my best intentions, my descriptions of places ended up actually being descriptions of people, but then the character of a place is in its history, and history is people, so that works. I was pleased with myself for branching out and trying new things, like with Remus (whom I've never properly written before except as a secondary character) and Tobias Snape (who doesn't get much fandom love either). The trick with fandom is walking the fine line between canon of a character and throwing in your own original twist. Maybe that's why I prefer secondary characters, because there's more room to play.
As far as original characters go, my initial intention was to do drabbles for the boys and girls in the HN novel. Then I remembered that many of those characters are based on real people and I did drabbles for those real people, so I'll have to get some more flesh on those characters' bones before I can pull off a real drabble for each of them. I found that it's difficult to describe a character in isolation without coming off all Sweet Valley like (which I was definitely guilty of when I was younger). Novels and stories aren't meant to have a dramatis personae section in the front or the back (unless it's a Russian novel, or 100 Years of Solitude, because then there are so many characters that a dramatis personae section is necessary). Since boring, cliché introductions are no good as a literary device, I discovered that a vignette style worked best, one that had a slice of plot or action, because a description of an original character falls flat if he or she is not in action. I discovered, as well, that characterization and description go hand in hand, though it's easy to do too much of one and not the other. It was a good two weeks for me, because I love making new characters (and am far less successful at finishing stories with them). Characters should be the heart and soul of fiction, and I got in some good practice.
Startled
Startled, Xin looked up at Sheva. He had never said those words to her, had never said them to anyone as far as she knew. Looking around at the crowded campsite she moved closesr to him, and whispered in his ear, "I love you too."
Thomas Malvolio Phillips
Kisses and heartaches, madness and murder - Tom liked them better when he had to memorize their lines. But he’d been through them all, and would shake his head when people asked about the Carver murders. He straightened his tie with absent hands, checked that his uniform would pass assembly inspection, and slipped into the Great Hall behind the rest of his form. If he closed his eyes, he’d walk down that street in Kyoto toward that house where he knew she would be, and then he’d take her in his arms - and then snap to attention for the school song.
Startled
She startled easily, like a rabbit at the sound of a hunter's rifle. Unfortunately, she didn't react like a rabbit would. She swung her sword up and blocked, the motion smooth like a wave on the ocean. Wet, too, with the arterial spray of blood. The others around her sang war cries, but she was too focused for that. Her silence unnerved her attackers. She did her best to unnerve them. And unman them. And unmake them.
Saturday, November 1, 2008
Gescano
Gescano readied his blunted sword, it was time to drill.
“Right, left, parry, block, lunge,” he barked orders at his master, who was now his student. He could see sweat running down Cathalan's brow and he was heaving for breath.
“Come my lord, if that is the best you can muster, then you will not live long in this world,” Gescano raised his sword again to attack.
Gescano served Lord Cathalan, as he had Cathalan's father, and as his son would. He took pains to teach them well. His life was duty and service, protection of his master
“Right, left, parry, block, lunge,” he barked orders at his master, who was now his student. He could see sweat running down Cathalan's brow and he was heaving for breath.
“Come my lord, if that is the best you can muster, then you will not live long in this world,” Gescano raised his sword again to attack.
Gescano served Lord Cathalan, as he had Cathalan's father, and as his son would. He took pains to teach them well. His life was duty and service, protection of his master
Friday, October 31, 2008
The King of Halloween
He perched on a flat, broad bough with a set of pipes, festooning the air with a merry tune. His skin, unblemished bronze, glimmered green in the moonlight. A pair of stag antlers, high and branching, were nestled in his curly hair - red-brown and wild - and he wore a crown of oak leaves and acorns. His hands were nicked with scars from long use with weapons, and his body was lean, strong. When asked who he was, he said he was Cernnunos, Weiryn, Herne, Korneli, Pan, Pashupati, the Green Man. No matter his name, he was King of Samhain.
Kinoria
Kinoria was dangerous. Smiling at her victim they never suspected that she brought them death. She liked to change it up, hardly ever killing the same way in a short space of time. Dagger, poison, fast or slow, it did not really matter to her, the job got done anyways.
Kinoria trembled, they wanted her to kill again, they wanted her to kill Cathalan, her husband. She knew if she didn't do it, they would kill both him and herself, and so she would.
She was an assassin of the first order, but now she was coming to regret it.
Kinoria trembled, they wanted her to kill again, they wanted her to kill Cathalan, her husband. She knew if she didn't do it, they would kill both him and herself, and so she would.
She was an assassin of the first order, but now she was coming to regret it.
Thursday, October 30, 2008
Jamal Mbaya
Jamal didn’t ask questions when the teenage girl brought in a boy with shrapnel wounds across his back, even though this area of the Congo was war-free. He didn’t ask about the supermodel-blond boy who showed up in his medical tent with strangulation wounds and a bullet lodged between two left ribs. He was paid to heal, not ask, so he treated them with deft, gentle hands before prescribing care and sending them on their way, back into the Congo undergrowth. He said nothing when police came by, because the tattoo on his left wrist was more than four lines.
Cathalan
Cathalan looked at the man before him, his eyes begging for a short break. His sword was drooped in exhaustion and he was breathing hard. Sweat was running down his face and his usually perfectly coiffed hair was in disarray. Cathalan's eyes went distant as he remembered how he got to where he was.
A painful blow brought him out of his memories and he raised his practice sword in an automatic defense. He swung to wide and received another hard aimed blow.
“Again my lord,” Gescano, his squire, was relentless as he drilled his master in the sword.
A painful blow brought him out of his memories and he raised his practice sword in an automatic defense. He swung to wide and received another hard aimed blow.
“Again my lord,” Gescano, his squire, was relentless as he drilled his master in the sword.
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Laika
Laika flitted through the trees, no sound coming from his soft shod feet. Clear depthless eyes peered from an intelligent heart stopping-beautiful face. Bow and hand were seamless, both adept at finding their target and making the kill. His voice raised in song was enough to make the nightingales jealous of his music. His fingers, long and slender, drew from wood and stone images that had no peer. Marriage was not his goal, but his fathers wish.
Running through the woods he fled his decreed fate and looked for a future elsewhere that did not exist for him.
Running through the woods he fled his decreed fate and looked for a future elsewhere that did not exist for him.
Kim Jo Seung
Jo Seung moves like silk, like clockwork, on a mat of linoleum on a street corner in Phoenix. At first the Mexican boys were dubious, but he’s slick, has iron-clad control over his body and can make it do things no human could do. But a robot could do them. He has distinctly foreign eyes and shiny black hair. When the dancing is done, he has a deceptively sweet smile and shiny steel knives that whistle through the air like he whistles K-pop tunes. He fights like he dances, rhythmic and nonstop, until the target’s heart has stopped.
Xin
Xin was a strong woman, a fearless fighter, and a true friend.
She fought with the strength of two and the bravery of ten. She never doubted who she was and what she wanted. Her sword rang out in the heat of battle, dancing in to deliver fatal blows; coming to the aide of her comrades.
The blows rained down on her in the prison, the questioners relentless, but Xin would never betray her crew, she would die before failing them. Through broken bone and blackened eye Xin smiled in the face of her captors.
“Bring me sweet death.”
(I reworked it, trying to make it better.)
She fought with the strength of two and the bravery of ten. She never doubted who she was and what she wanted. Her sword rang out in the heat of battle, dancing in to deliver fatal blows; coming to the aide of her comrades.
The blows rained down on her in the prison, the questioners relentless, but Xin would never betray her crew, she would die before failing them. Through broken bone and blackened eye Xin smiled in the face of her captors.
“Bring me sweet death.”
(I reworked it, trying to make it better.)
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Okita Megumi
The scar across Meg’s left eye looked raw and pink, as if it were freshly healed and sore to the touch. It crinkled when she arched an eyebrow or smiled or was anything but stone-faced, and she looked sinister. All the time. She wore blue, grey, and white - hakama, hakama-kita, haori - and tied her long, black hair back into a high ponytail. She was small and petite-looking, like a doll, until she was in action, and with each sweep of her blade the others realized she was iron-strong, battle fierce, and just as brittle to break.
Gentle
The night was gentle, everything about this night was soft, the waves, the moon, the wind on the grasses and the scent of the roses in full bloom. The sigh of her lover in the night was as quiet as down feathers on the wind. She couldn't wish for anything more than this.
Monday, October 27, 2008
Alexander Dumas
He was a rebel, he fought against the powers that be. He could not fight directly, but by learning he could help destroy them. He could also dream, in a world where no one knew how to dream anymore, he saw 'Night Visions'
Reading was forbidden, a crime punishable by instant death. There were none now, save for a few who could decipher the ancient words upon the brittle paper.
He was a follower to the cause, in secret he delivered the books and the papers from one to another, always avoiding detection.
He was Alexander Dumas, he could read.
Reading was forbidden, a crime punishable by instant death. There were none now, save for a few who could decipher the ancient words upon the brittle paper.
He was a follower to the cause, in secret he delivered the books and the papers from one to another, always avoiding detection.
He was Alexander Dumas, he could read.
Jesse Carlisle
Jesse hated being called pretty. He’d been long disabused of protesting his prettiness, because he was an actor and his good looks were an undeniable asset. When most people called him pretty, though, it was derogatory, a dismissal of the rest of his existence. So he jammed a beanie hat down over his hair - red-brown, soft-looking, the magazines said - and wore a pair of thick-rimmed glasses to hide his eyes - grey and intense, reporters simpered - and hunched over his guitar. On the dimly-lit stage in a crowded coffee shop, he was a musician instead of a superstar.
Gentle
"Do not go gentle into that good night."
Easier said than done, Tobias thought. After one had taken a beating like the one he'd gone through tonight, the temptation to go easily was better than alcohol to an alcoholic. One eye was non-functional, and one arm was - gone. Beyond repair. He'd be okay once Christian arrived, though. Christian could heal anything.
In the meantime. He hefted his Uzi and opened fire.
Easier said than done, Tobias thought. After one had taken a beating like the one he'd gone through tonight, the temptation to go easily was better than alcohol to an alcoholic. One eye was non-functional, and one arm was - gone. Beyond repair. He'd be okay once Christian arrived, though. Christian could heal anything.
In the meantime. He hefted his Uzi and opened fire.
Sunday, October 26, 2008
Chantelle Murane
Chanti’s hands were bloody with pin-pricks because she’d spent all night repairing garb for the rest of the True Ballentines. They would look striking in battle at War, and even if they forgot why they looked so good, she would fight boldly alongside them.
In the corner, her latest painting dried. She’d work on it some more, even before the pain subsided, because she could hold a paintbrush, and why not put some blood into her work? She tossed her head, forcing brown hair out of bright eyes, and wondered if Xander would agree to a pink portrait background.
In the corner, her latest painting dried. She’d work on it some more, even before the pain subsided, because she could hold a paintbrush, and why not put some blood into her work? She tossed her head, forcing brown hair out of bright eyes, and wondered if Xander would agree to a pink portrait background.
A Goddess Brought to Life.
She was a live wire, totally unpredictable and full of life. Here one minute and gone the next, she flitted through the world, riding the waves and basking in the desert heat. To capture her was an impossibility, she called down the stars and danced on the lightning. Her laughter was a thousand voices on the wind, her eyes mirroring all that had ever been and all that could ever be.
Hers was the blessing sought by all living below, calm winds, the gift of a child. Her smile was the sun and her tears the life of the world.
(please tell me if I have incorrectly labeled a post.)
Hers was the blessing sought by all living below, calm winds, the gift of a child. Her smile was the sun and her tears the life of the world.
(please tell me if I have incorrectly labeled a post.)
Project #2 Capture an Original Character in a Drabble
Write a drabble on any original character, try to convey the spirit and essence of that character. Use an old character that you have created or come up with a completely new character. Have fun and explore the range of characters. They can be bases in any genre.
100 words. I hope this one turns out to be fun!
Game On!
100 words. I hope this one turns out to be fun!
Game On!
Fathers and Sons
He’d heard Eileen tell him - she was a witch. She wasn’t fair of face, and local rumor was she was something of a harridan, but she’d seen something in him - simple Tobias, lowly factory worker - that made him feel like a man, like he could be loved despite his rough speech and clumsy gestures. He hadn’t realized Eileen’s being a witch meant his son - only son, heir, last of the noble Yorkshire line - would be a wizard.
A freak.
A dark-eyed mite too smart for his own good who mumbled half-baked Latin and moved things with his mind.
A freak.
A dark-eyed mite too smart for his own good who mumbled half-baked Latin and moved things with his mind.
Saturday, October 25, 2008
Growth at Home
She looked at all the children around her and smiled. She glanced around at her domain, the greenhouses. The benign and the dangerous lived there side by side, she was mistress to them all. She reveled in the smell of the fertilizer and the steady fall of rain. The slow growth of plants never bothered her, nor the lifetime that she had spent to make these greenhouses what they were.
She gave a thought to the plants that she wanted to bring in to make a part of her home when...
“Professor Sprout, the Venomous Tentacula has Longbottom again.”
(I know I have been doing a lot of characterization, but... (shrugs) and I know that my grammar is still weak but I am trying)
She gave a thought to the plants that she wanted to bring in to make a part of her home when...
“Professor Sprout, the Venomous Tentacula has Longbottom again.”
(I know I have been doing a lot of characterization, but... (shrugs) and I know that my grammar is still weak but I am trying)
Friday, October 24, 2008
The Original G&F Before F&G
They wore matching grins and had the same wicked glint in their eyes. In the photo, they jostled each other back and forth, but their rough-housing was in jest; they were brothers, and they loved each other fiercely. They were pranksters, mischief-makers, and they had the loveliest blue eyes this side of the Channel. Most days, Molly would shriek at Fred and George for making smoke-bombs in the attic. But then she’d turn to the photo of Gideon and Fabian and remember that her sons, like her brothers, had one life, and war could make it short.
A Change in Course
They moved through the shadowed forest scant more than shadows themselves, proud and noble they had little to do with humans.
He once was one of them, watching stars, at one with the course of the world. His life changed when he helped a little boy.
This day was unlike the others; he was riding through the forest when he felt a great evil in the woods. Drawing his bow he went in search of it; anything truly evil must be destroyed, and he could feel it.
Seeing a boy and a girl backed up against a tree, he acted.
He once was one of them, watching stars, at one with the course of the world. His life changed when he helped a little boy.
This day was unlike the others; he was riding through the forest when he felt a great evil in the woods. Drawing his bow he went in search of it; anything truly evil must be destroyed, and he could feel it.
Seeing a boy and a girl backed up against a tree, he acted.
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Thoughts of a Colossus
He tried to fit his massive frame through the door, it was a tight fit, but he managed to squeeze through. It was tough being big, tough when he towered over his classmates. He was always careful about his movements, he didn't want to hurt anyone, though inevitably someone always was hurt. He was excluded from many things that the other students were able to do; like ride broomsticks, he was just to big.
His real passion however was creatures, big, small, dangerous, it didn't matter, he loved them, especially the dangerous ones, they were just misunderstood, like he was.
His real passion however was creatures, big, small, dangerous, it didn't matter, he loved them, especially the dangerous ones, they were just misunderstood, like he was.
An Introspection of a Shrieking Shack
The walls shuddered and heaved. Nearly thirty winters had heaved and buckled its walls, causing them to crack and splinter. Its hollow rooms had housed pain, fear, hunger, hatred, and bloodshed, the nightmares and horror of a boy inflicted with an unimaginable disease. Its floors had also seen tumbles, playful romps, happiness, the unyielding loyalty of four friends. For the first time its old wooden planks were witness to death, blood seeping through the floorboards and dripping to the tunnel below, taking with it the life, memories, essence, and final being of an unsung hero, black-haired, sallow-faced, strong.
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
Taming the Beast
He was always nice to the neighborhood dogs, though no one could explain why, especially since he seemed to have befriended the most monstrous dog of all, a giant black Newf-wolf mix that was half-feral and was rumored to have eaten one of the local children. No one could understand why The Beast - whose ill-chosen name was Furball - would be tamed by such an unassuming man. He was only twenty-five, or so the rumors went, but he looked older, tired. He wore ill-fitting slacks, shaggy grandpa cardigans, and scuffed shoes. He called The Beast "Padfoot."
Canned Ego
“Stand and fight you knave!”
No one ever accepts my challenges. I am the bravest in the castle, there is none better than me in a fight. Yet they blithe ignore my prowess in battle and my honor as a knight. They point and laugh at me, ME the greatest swordsman who ever lived inside or outside of a painting.
The knight in the painting trips over his armored feet and lands in a heap beside his horse, trying to rise he gets his sword caught in the straps of the horses harness an falls again, panting with exhaustion.
No one ever accepts my challenges. I am the bravest in the castle, there is none better than me in a fight. Yet they blithe ignore my prowess in battle and my honor as a knight. They point and laugh at me, ME the greatest swordsman who ever lived inside or outside of a painting.
The knight in the painting trips over his armored feet and lands in a heap beside his horse, trying to rise he gets his sword caught in the straps of the horses harness an falls again, panting with exhaustion.
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
The Path
The path wound through the woods, starting just inside the border of the trees, it meandered past a small lake and towards the forgotten whitewashed gazebo in the distance, almost hidden by the hanging roses and ivy. The air, heavy with their fragrance and softly falling petals.
Reflections of a Ghost
Everyone fears me, though I have done no wrong in so long, after all how could I. My appearance is enough to drive them away. The other ghosts shun me, yet look to me to lay down the law.
The others are favorites with the students, Nicholas with his humorous almost beheading in particular, but the blood on my shade, so dishonorable, penance I wear for eternity.
Occasionally I do take pleasure in causing a panic, just to see them run, it is amusing to see them fear me, whom nobody knows. Peeves fears me.
I am the Bloody Baron
The others are favorites with the students, Nicholas with his humorous almost beheading in particular, but the blood on my shade, so dishonorable, penance I wear for eternity.
Occasionally I do take pleasure in causing a panic, just to see them run, it is amusing to see them fear me, whom nobody knows. Peeves fears me.
I am the Bloody Baron
Path
The path down by the lake was overrun with weeds. He could smell wild garlic and had to hop quickly a few times to avoid being stung by nettles. He wondered, if he'd lived a thousand years before, if he'd have heard a swan singing about how her sister murdered her, or if he'd see Viking warriors counting their spoils on the shore. One day, he'd walk a new path, but today, he was content to walk his familiar one and remember those who'd walked it before him.
Man in the Mirror
Broken glass, jagged along the edges, set in gilt copper green from age and poor storage. The pattern on the back of the frame was a family crest, faded, with illegible words, probably in French. The handle was slender and elegantly formed, all gentle curves that fit right into the palm of one’s hand. Someone had tied a ribbon below the base of the frame, red and yellow, the words “Up Gryffindor” printed on it. Once the letters had danced, but the charm had long faded.
In the bottom of a schoolboy’s trunk, grey eyes gazed from the mirror’s shards.
In the bottom of a schoolboy’s trunk, grey eyes gazed from the mirror’s shards.
Monday, October 20, 2008
Never within reach
She could be anyone; short, tall, young, or old. But she could never be what he wanted. He would never have her, would never love her that way. Oh she could follow him and he would never know, he never saw her anyway.
Tonks watched him with sad eyes as he passed by her, heading towards the meeting. He patted her shoulder in passing and it felt as if he had burned her, body and soul. Her heart wrenched in her chest and she closed her eyes against the threatening tears.
She was not good enough for him to love.
Tonks watched him with sad eyes as he passed by her, heading towards the meeting. He patted her shoulder in passing and it felt as if he had burned her, body and soul. Her heart wrenched in her chest and she closed her eyes against the threatening tears.
She was not good enough for him to love.
A Young Death Eater's Ruminations on a Snitch
Small, round, golden, with wings faster than a hummingbird’s. Arabesques and whimsical swirls adorned its surface. It fit on his palm, cool from speeding through the air, warm from him clutching it close and studying it as he did now. He wondered what it would be like, to be as free as this little toy, to fly and fly and never be caught but by the best. He wondered what it would be like, to be free of the Mark burned into his left arm. He wondered what it would be like, if, just once, he’d caught the snitch first.
Sunday, October 19, 2008
The Rules v. 1.1
Haha. Okay. So I'm invoking the original rules to add a rule.
Labels: let's try to keep the list short. If you're writing in someone else's universe, call it fandom, hands down. If you're writing for something of your own or that you hope to develop, call it original. If you wrote something that really, truly belongs nowhere, call it random. If someone was random and becomes original, go back and add that extra label for reader convenience. Use the established list as much as possible. Try to pin down, if at all possible, what literary element you're working with - it'll help you later, as well as readers.
Labels: let's try to keep the list short. If you're writing in someone else's universe, call it fandom, hands down. If you're writing for something of your own or that you hope to develop, call it original. If you wrote something that really, truly belongs nowhere, call it random. If someone was random and becomes original, go back and add that extra label for reader convenience. Use the established list as much as possible. Try to pin down, if at all possible, what literary element you're working with - it'll help you later, as well as readers.
Kali was never normal
She was dangerous.
Sparks showered around her, bright with the silent warning. The darkenss fluttered around her as she arose from her crouch, her eyes still narrow ocher slits, chest rumbling with displeasure. Her lithe body slunk through the shadows, She was an animal, she was a human, she was neither and both at the same time. 57...
Kali slid into her seat beside Tobias. "So where were you last night," he asked.
Kali shruged, "no where in particular."
Tobias looked at her with his deep brown eyes in disbelief. "I know you better than that. How is Saia," he whispered.
(haha hand counted to 100)
Sparks showered around her, bright with the silent warning. The darkenss fluttered around her as she arose from her crouch, her eyes still narrow ocher slits, chest rumbling with displeasure. Her lithe body slunk through the shadows, She was an animal, she was a human, she was neither and both at the same time. 57...
Kali slid into her seat beside Tobias. "So where were you last night," he asked.
Kali shruged, "no where in particular."
Tobias looked at her with his deep brown eyes in disbelief. "I know you better than that. How is Saia," he whispered.
(haha hand counted to 100)
For the Smart Girls
Cedric straightened his robes with nervous hands, smoothed down his hair. He didn’t know why he was nervous, because his friends kept telling him - he was the true champion of Hogwarts, prefect, seeker.
He was also just Cedric. He didn’t know what he'd do if she said no.
He found her in the library studying, alone. “Will you...go to the ball with me?”
Hermione looked flustered, surprised; it was over when she smiled like that. “I’m sorry. Someone’s already asked me.”
Cedric nodded and turned away before he could embarrass himself more. On the way out, he spotted Cho.
He was also just Cedric. He didn’t know what he'd do if she said no.
He found her in the library studying, alone. “Will you...go to the ball with me?”
Hermione looked flustered, surprised; it was over when she smiled like that. “I’m sorry. Someone’s already asked me.”
Cedric nodded and turned away before he could embarrass himself more. On the way out, he spotted Cho.
Project #1: HP-verse
Every day this week, 100 words on anything and everything Harry Potter (to get it out of our systems because, really, everyone on the internet writes about Harry Potter). It can be a person, place, or thing. It can be canon or fanon. Make it fun, snappy, and sharp. Do your best, and we'll post overviews at the end of the week.
The Rules v. 1.0
Welcome to Master & Madness!
Here are the rules of the game:
First, check the OneWord link every day. As soon as there's a new word, give your good sixty seconds and then post it on here.
Second, check the project posted at the beginning of the week. Post questions in the comments of the weekly project post if any portion of the topic confuses you at all. A week begins on Sunday and ends on Saturday.
Third, try to write every day. Leave lots of constructive criticism in the feedback and do the best you can to help each other.
Fourth, your limit is 100 words. Seriously. 100. Use whatever tools in whatever word processors works best for you and make sure you have your 100 limit. We are working on an honor system, however, so there will be no repercussions if your work isn't 100 on the nose. Still - 100. No more, and certainly no less. (I know I originally said sixty seconds, but it'd be better if we stuck with a word limit rather than a time limit. If we can do it well briefly, we can do it well when we have more space. Although brevity is the soul of wit.)
Fifth, label your posts. Can be anything from "random" to "Dagaz" (but really, only use that one if you must). Try to use a consistent system of labels, so check the existing list of labels before randomly slapping one on your post.
Sixth, there will be overviews. At the end of the week, we make our confessions - strengths, weaknesses. Posts of our own we liked most and liked least. Types of writing we found typical, we thought were experimental, we enjoyed doing or were like pulling teeth. Places we improved. Places we screwed up.
Seventh, these rules ares subject to alteration and change as the game progresses.
In the meantime, game on.
Here are the rules of the game:
First, check the OneWord link every day. As soon as there's a new word, give your good sixty seconds and then post it on here.
Second, check the project posted at the beginning of the week. Post questions in the comments of the weekly project post if any portion of the topic confuses you at all. A week begins on Sunday and ends on Saturday.
Third, try to write every day. Leave lots of constructive criticism in the feedback and do the best you can to help each other.
Fourth, your limit is 100 words. Seriously. 100. Use whatever tools in whatever word processors works best for you and make sure you have your 100 limit. We are working on an honor system, however, so there will be no repercussions if your work isn't 100 on the nose. Still - 100. No more, and certainly no less. (I know I originally said sixty seconds, but it'd be better if we stuck with a word limit rather than a time limit. If we can do it well briefly, we can do it well when we have more space. Although brevity is the soul of wit.)
Fifth, label your posts. Can be anything from "random" to "Dagaz" (but really, only use that one if you must). Try to use a consistent system of labels, so check the existing list of labels before randomly slapping one on your post.
Sixth, there will be overviews. At the end of the week, we make our confessions - strengths, weaknesses. Posts of our own we liked most and liked least. Types of writing we found typical, we thought were experimental, we enjoyed doing or were like pulling teeth. Places we improved. Places we screwed up.
Seventh, these rules ares subject to alteration and change as the game progresses.
In the meantime, game on.
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