"We are the lucky ones, we shine like a thousand suns, when all of the color runs together. I'll keep you company, in one glorious harmony. Waltzing with destiny forever."
"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."
"Dance me into the night, underneath the moon shining so bright, turning me into the light. Time dances whirling past, I gaze through the looking glass; and feel just beyond my grasp is heaven."
"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."
"Sacred geometry, where movement is poetry; visions of you and me forever."
"Other dancers may be on the floor, dear, but my eyes will see only you. Only you have that magic technique. When we sway I go weak."
"Dance me into the night, underneath the moon shining so bright. Let the dark waltz begin. Oh let me wheel - let me spin, let it take me again. Turning me into the light."
"I can hear the sounds of violins, long before it begins. Make me thrill as only you know how; sway me smooth, sway me now. You know how, sway me smooth, sway me now."
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Monday, April 20, 2009
Top 40 Break-up
“The last thing I want to do right now is read your stupid poetry. Why can’t you just tell me what you really want to say?” [1]
“We all have a weakness. Some of ours are easy to identify.” [2]
“Look me in the eye.”
“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours first. Let’s compare scars and I’ll tell you whose is worse.” [3]
“Welcome to the planet. Welcome to existence.” [4]
“Painted a picture of how it’s supposed to turn out. Down in a cold dirty well and I cannot climb out.” [5]
“Everybody’s watching you now. What happens next?” [4]
“I’m still alive but I’m barely breathing.” [6]
“I dare you to move.” [4]
“Just prayed to a god that I don’t believe in.” [6]
“I dare you to lift yourself up off the floor.” [4]
“When a heart breaks, no, it don’t break even.” [6]
(139 words)
Lyrics from:
1 - Silhouette Serenade by Vendetta Red
2 - Dig by Incubus
3 - Swing Life Away by Rise Against
4 - Dare You to Move by Switchfoot
5 - Down A Cold Dirty Well by Justin Nozuka
6 - Break Even by The Script
“We all have a weakness. Some of ours are easy to identify.” [2]
“Look me in the eye.”
“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours first. Let’s compare scars and I’ll tell you whose is worse.” [3]
“Welcome to the planet. Welcome to existence.” [4]
“Painted a picture of how it’s supposed to turn out. Down in a cold dirty well and I cannot climb out.” [5]
“Everybody’s watching you now. What happens next?” [4]
“I’m still alive but I’m barely breathing.” [6]
“I dare you to move.” [4]
“Just prayed to a god that I don’t believe in.” [6]
“I dare you to lift yourself up off the floor.” [4]
“When a heart breaks, no, it don’t break even.” [6]
(139 words)
Lyrics from:
1 - Silhouette Serenade by Vendetta Red
2 - Dig by Incubus
3 - Swing Life Away by Rise Against
4 - Dare You to Move by Switchfoot
5 - Down A Cold Dirty Well by Justin Nozuka
6 - Break Even by The Script
Annabelle Lee / I am going to the West.
"It was many and many a year ago, In a kingdom by the sea, that a maiden there lived whom you may know By the name of Annabel Lee."
"In this fair land, I'll stay no more; here labor is in vain. I'll seek the mountains far away, and leave the fertile plain."
"But we loved with a love that was more than love-- I and my Annabel Lee."
"You say you will not go with me, you turn your eyes away. You say you will not follow me, no matter what I say. I am going to the West."
"But our love it was stronger by far than the love of those who were older than we-- Of many far wiser than we-- And neither the angels in heaven above,
nor the demons down under the sea, can ever dissever my soul from the soul Of the beautiful Annabel Lee."
"I will journey to the place that was shaped by heaven's hand, and I will build for me a bower where angels' footprints mark the land. Where castle rocks in towers high
kneel to valleys wild and green. All my thoughts are turned to you, my waking hope, my sleeping dream."
"And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side of my darling--my darling--my life and my bride, in her sepulcher there by the sea, in her tomb by the sounding sea."
"Wind, my blanket. Earth, my bed, my canopy a tree. Willows by the river's edge will whisper me to sleep."
"In this fair land, I'll stay no more; here labor is in vain. I'll seek the mountains far away, and leave the fertile plain."
"But we loved with a love that was more than love-- I and my Annabel Lee."
"You say you will not go with me, you turn your eyes away. You say you will not follow me, no matter what I say. I am going to the West."
"But our love it was stronger by far than the love of those who were older than we-- Of many far wiser than we-- And neither the angels in heaven above,
nor the demons down under the sea, can ever dissever my soul from the soul Of the beautiful Annabel Lee."
"I will journey to the place that was shaped by heaven's hand, and I will build for me a bower where angels' footprints mark the land. Where castle rocks in towers high
kneel to valleys wild and green. All my thoughts are turned to you, my waking hope, my sleeping dream."
"And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side of my darling--my darling--my life and my bride, in her sepulcher there by the sea, in her tomb by the sounding sea."
"Wind, my blanket. Earth, my bed, my canopy a tree. Willows by the river's edge will whisper me to sleep."
Wanderlust/ Where are we going from here.
"Beyond the East the sunrise, beyond the West the sea."
"On a long road, miles to go, it's winding and cold and its covered with snow."
"It works in me like madness, dear, to bid me say good-by."
"But I ask you what we all want to know; where are we going from here?"
"I know not where the white road runs, nor what the blue hills are, but man can have the sun for friend, and for his guide a star"
"We lose our way, trying to find, searching to find our way home."
"And there's no end of voyaging when once the voice is heard; for the river calls and the road calls, and oh, the call of a bird."
"Trying to find our way home."
"And come I may, but go I must, and if men ask you why, you may put the blame on the stars and the sun and the white road and the sky!"
"As the day dies, with tears in our eyes, there's too few hellos and too many goodbyes."
"Yonder the long horizon lies, and there by night and day The old ships draw to home again, the young ships sail away."
"But who do you ask, when no one really knows where we are going from here."
"On a long road, miles to go, it's winding and cold and its covered with snow."
"It works in me like madness, dear, to bid me say good-by."
"But I ask you what we all want to know; where are we going from here?"
"I know not where the white road runs, nor what the blue hills are, but man can have the sun for friend, and for his guide a star"
"We lose our way, trying to find, searching to find our way home."
"And there's no end of voyaging when once the voice is heard; for the river calls and the road calls, and oh, the call of a bird."
"Trying to find our way home."
"And come I may, but go I must, and if men ask you why, you may put the blame on the stars and the sun and the white road and the sky!"
"As the day dies, with tears in our eyes, there's too few hellos and too many goodbyes."
"Yonder the long horizon lies, and there by night and day The old ships draw to home again, the young ships sail away."
"But who do you ask, when no one really knows where we are going from here."
Sunday, April 19, 2009
An Edna St. Vincent-Millay Break-up
“The rain is full of ghosts tonight, that tap and sigh upon the glass.”
“I shall forget you presently, my dear.”
“I would indeed that love were longer lived.”
“If you entreat me with your loveliest lie I will protest you with my favorite vow.”
“I think I should have loved you presently.”
“You are betrayed. Here is no treasure hid.”
“Time does not bring relief. You all have lied.”
“This door you might not open, and you did.”
“And you no longer look with love on me.”
“I find this frenzy insufficient reason for conversation when we meet again.”
“Some sane day, not to bright and not too stormy, I shall be gone, and you may whistle for me.”
“Let me make it plain: I must never more behold your face.”
“This now is yours. I seek another place.”
(140 words)
“I shall forget you presently, my dear.”
“I would indeed that love were longer lived.”
“If you entreat me with your loveliest lie I will protest you with my favorite vow.”
“I think I should have loved you presently.”
“You are betrayed. Here is no treasure hid.”
“Time does not bring relief. You all have lied.”
“This door you might not open, and you did.”
“And you no longer look with love on me.”
“I find this frenzy insufficient reason for conversation when we meet again.”
“Some sane day, not to bright and not too stormy, I shall be gone, and you may whistle for me.”
“Let me make it plain: I must never more behold your face.”
“This now is yours. I seek another place.”
(140 words)
Project #25: All Dialogue
I'll confess, this is pretty much a cheap shot for me, but finals are coming up. Write a scene that's entirely dialogue. Ernest Hemingway was famous for his long stretches of untagged dialogue, so go for it - untagged dialogue, 100-400 words. Think of funky ways to write the dialogue, like maybe make a conversation, that's comprised entirely of lines from different poems, or from different songs, or conversations from dialogue in a book you love, or just make it up. Have fun with it, jazz it up, and don't stress out.
Overview #24 - Random Words
It was fun to get to use the random word generator, at any rate. Mostly it felt like I was suffering from perennial writer's block, because I do just this, write little scenes that will go nowhere, whenever I'm trying to drive the writer's block away. Still, I had fun. I wrote a lot of randomness, some of it inspired by internet videos (Susan Boyle and Paul Potts) and some of it inspired by pictures. I did dip into fandom once, though it's on the darker edge of that fandom, and fairly obscure in its allusion to boot, but it was good times. I got to work on a bit of dialogue, a bit of micro plot, and it was fairly easy work, all things considered.
Nut
“If The Wordsmith ever finds out about this, he’ll do a nut,” Kory said.
Austin shooed him away with a gesture of her hand. “Smith won’t ever find out that I did this then, will he, Virtue boy?”
“Just because I’m in the Virtue Choir doesn’t mean you can call me -”
Austin leveled a glare at him. “I’m one of the Gregori for a reason, Kory, and it’s not because I care to argue with a misplaced Virtue.”
“Misplaced? You question The Authority?”
“Begone, Kory, before I have to file a collateral damage report,” Austin said.
Kory shook his head. “I’m just saying. The Wordsmith’s pretty fragile, and this could really be trouble. Not to mention if Garrow finds out what you did.”
“You underestimate Smith.” Austin tacked the poster to the cork board in the Virtue lounge and shuffled the stack in her folder. She had posters for every bunker in the Quire but the Gregori bunker, and she planned to use them well. “He’s not the sort to go running to Garrow.”
“Garrow, on the other hand, is just the sort to figure out what you did without The Wordsmith saying a thing.” Kory studied the poster. It was well-made. However Austin had found such a pleasant picture of The Wordsmith - dressed in a fluffy blue hoodie and smiling - Kory couldn’t begin to imagine, but the kid looked mildly attractive. That the poster was advertising The Wordsmith as a potential date and there were phone number tabs along the bottom was less impressive and more frightening.
Austin yanked off a couple of the tabs and shoved them into her pocket, then stood back to admire her handiwork.
“Do you know what’ll happen if you put that up in the Houri bunker?” Kory asked.
Austin’s smile said it all.
(301 words)
Austin shooed him away with a gesture of her hand. “Smith won’t ever find out that I did this then, will he, Virtue boy?”
“Just because I’m in the Virtue Choir doesn’t mean you can call me -”
Austin leveled a glare at him. “I’m one of the Gregori for a reason, Kory, and it’s not because I care to argue with a misplaced Virtue.”
“Misplaced? You question The Authority?”
“Begone, Kory, before I have to file a collateral damage report,” Austin said.
Kory shook his head. “I’m just saying. The Wordsmith’s pretty fragile, and this could really be trouble. Not to mention if Garrow finds out what you did.”
“You underestimate Smith.” Austin tacked the poster to the cork board in the Virtue lounge and shuffled the stack in her folder. She had posters for every bunker in the Quire but the Gregori bunker, and she planned to use them well. “He’s not the sort to go running to Garrow.”
“Garrow, on the other hand, is just the sort to figure out what you did without The Wordsmith saying a thing.” Kory studied the poster. It was well-made. However Austin had found such a pleasant picture of The Wordsmith - dressed in a fluffy blue hoodie and smiling - Kory couldn’t begin to imagine, but the kid looked mildly attractive. That the poster was advertising The Wordsmith as a potential date and there were phone number tabs along the bottom was less impressive and more frightening.
Austin yanked off a couple of the tabs and shoved them into her pocket, then stood back to admire her handiwork.
“Do you know what’ll happen if you put that up in the Houri bunker?” Kory asked.
Austin’s smile said it all.
(301 words)
Saturday, April 18, 2009
Swelter
It was sweltering outside, absolutely unbearable. The desert flowed on in every direction as far as they could see without any break. David and men lounged under the shade of the lean-to clad in loose trousers and long sleeved shirts. They had been assigned to keep an eye on a particular group of people. They had placed their surveillance and had retreated to a safe distance. Joe was on look out, the others were taking quietly or playing cards. Mark and Brian arguing over the relative value of different hands.
It was a quiet day in the desert.
It was a quiet day in the desert.
Fool
David realized his mistake to late. If he was lucky he would be able to get his men out alive. He had been a fool to think it was going to be easier than they had told him it would be, and now they might all die because of him.
"FALL BACK!" David shouted. "Regroup and rendezvous. Steve go with Joe, Mark and Brian you're with me. Move!" The five man team broke in two, shooting off in separate directions. David wound through the underbrush, keeping low and leading the two Second Lieutenants through the jungle. He knew that Steve would keep Joe safe.
Their mission had been a dangerous one to begin with, and now it was worse, they had been compromised and had not achieved their objective. David kept up a zigzagging path through the jungle , making sure that Mark and Brian were with him.
David and his men finally broke through the brush and ducked into a blind, waiting for Steve and Joe. The twins sat down heavily, trying to catch their breath. David paced back and forth in the small space, his face a thundercloud.
Ten minutes passes, twenty, and then thirty. David had just decided to go and look for his men when they came stumbling into the blind, Steve leaning heavily on Joe.
Joe eased Steve to the ground. There was a tourniquet at Steve's knee and another lower on his calf that was soaked in blood.
David crouched next to Steve and unwrapped the bandage. "Shot?"
"Yeah, they pegged me as we were hopping over a log." Steve winced as David started to clean the wound. "It's a damn good thing that they can't shoot," Steve joked. He sucked in a sharp breath as David pulled the slug from the wound.
"I'm sorry Lieutenant. This is my fault." David said, wrapping his man's leg again.
"Just get me back to base and we'll call it square."
"FALL BACK!" David shouted. "Regroup and rendezvous. Steve go with Joe, Mark and Brian you're with me. Move!" The five man team broke in two, shooting off in separate directions. David wound through the underbrush, keeping low and leading the two Second Lieutenants through the jungle. He knew that Steve would keep Joe safe.
Their mission had been a dangerous one to begin with, and now it was worse, they had been compromised and had not achieved their objective. David kept up a zigzagging path through the jungle , making sure that Mark and Brian were with him.
David and his men finally broke through the brush and ducked into a blind, waiting for Steve and Joe. The twins sat down heavily, trying to catch their breath. David paced back and forth in the small space, his face a thundercloud.
Ten minutes passes, twenty, and then thirty. David had just decided to go and look for his men when they came stumbling into the blind, Steve leaning heavily on Joe.
Joe eased Steve to the ground. There was a tourniquet at Steve's knee and another lower on his calf that was soaked in blood.
David crouched next to Steve and unwrapped the bandage. "Shot?"
"Yeah, they pegged me as we were hopping over a log." Steve winced as David started to clean the wound. "It's a damn good thing that they can't shoot," Steve joked. He sucked in a sharp breath as David pulled the slug from the wound.
"I'm sorry Lieutenant. This is my fault." David said, wrapping his man's leg again.
"Just get me back to base and we'll call it square."
Flawless
The plan was flawless. David had gone over it with a fine toothed comb. He couldn't think of anything that he had left out. Now all he had to do was wait. For him that was always the hard part, waiting. David glanced at his watch. Why does time always seem to creep when you are waiting for something. David sighed, wishing time would go faster.
David checked over the items again, making sure that he had everything, running through a mental checklist. David pictured just how it would play out.
Looking at his watch again David was surprised to find he only had a few minutes to go. Standing up he got ready, flicking a small flame to life, and listening for approaching footsteps.
As soon as he could hear steps David applied the flame to the wick, bringing it to life.
The door opened and the light flicked on.
David looked up and smiled, "Happy Anniversary Arianna."
David checked over the items again, making sure that he had everything, running through a mental checklist. David pictured just how it would play out.
Looking at his watch again David was surprised to find he only had a few minutes to go. Standing up he got ready, flicking a small flame to life, and listening for approaching footsteps.
As soon as he could hear steps David applied the flame to the wick, bringing it to life.
The door opened and the light flicked on.
David looked up and smiled, "Happy Anniversary Arianna."
Friday, April 17, 2009
Sale
“So you just got that piece on sale.”
“You’d be surprised at what you can find at an army surplus store.” Mike hacked at the rope on his wrists with the army knife he’d propped up between his feet.
“Some kidnapper,” Jake grumbled. “He knocks us out, ties us up, but doesn’t think to take your knife or your gun.”
“I’m guessing he miscalculated our weights in ratio to the tranquilizing agent in the tranq darts and assumed we’d still be unconscious when he got back,” Mike said.
“Or he’s strong enough and fast enough that it doesn’t matter if you’re awake, untied, and armed.” A shadow fell across the doorway, and for a moment both men couldn’t see.
Then their eyes adjusted, and they realized that their captor was a boy, no older than fifteen, slight of build and with features like a china doll. And a pair of bright, bright blue eyes.
“Why did you kidnap us?” Jake demanded.
The boy tilted his head to the side quizzically. “Who says I kidnapped you? It’s not as if I’ve asked your families for ransom.”
“Then why did you take us?”
The boy’s smile was slow and calm and utterly terrifying. “Jei wanted something to eat.”
(206 words)
“You’d be surprised at what you can find at an army surplus store.” Mike hacked at the rope on his wrists with the army knife he’d propped up between his feet.
“Some kidnapper,” Jake grumbled. “He knocks us out, ties us up, but doesn’t think to take your knife or your gun.”
“I’m guessing he miscalculated our weights in ratio to the tranquilizing agent in the tranq darts and assumed we’d still be unconscious when he got back,” Mike said.
“Or he’s strong enough and fast enough that it doesn’t matter if you’re awake, untied, and armed.” A shadow fell across the doorway, and for a moment both men couldn’t see.
Then their eyes adjusted, and they realized that their captor was a boy, no older than fifteen, slight of build and with features like a china doll. And a pair of bright, bright blue eyes.
“Why did you kidnap us?” Jake demanded.
The boy tilted his head to the side quizzically. “Who says I kidnapped you? It’s not as if I’ve asked your families for ransom.”
“Then why did you take us?”
The boy’s smile was slow and calm and utterly terrifying. “Jei wanted something to eat.”
(206 words)
Container
“Who’s that lass there?” Tom asked.
Phyllis glanced up from her knitting. “Pardon?”
“That girl, there, going to visit Paul.”
A young woman stood on the next door neighbor’s door step carrying a stack of plastic containers.
“That’s Sylvia, dear,” Phyllis said. “She comes by once a week to bring him food.”
“Oh.” Tom returned to the paper to search for football scores. Blackburn was doing terribly this year, so he’d pinned his hopes on Arsenal taking Man U down in the next match.
“Pardon me.”
Phyllis and Tom both looked up and saw Sylvia standing on the edge of their lawn.
“Hello - my name is Sylvia, and Paul’s one of my coworkers. I brought him some supper, but he’s not answering his door. I was wondering if you could just give this to him when he gets home.” She held out the stack of tupperware.
Phyllis set down her knitting and accepted the boxes from her. “Of course, dear. Do you know Paul well?”
“Well enough. He’s lonely is all.” Sylvia smiled, and Phyllis thought to herself that Sylvia was a very lovely girl to be spending time with a sourpuss like Paul.
“He’s a bit of a loud neighbor at times,” Tom grumbled from behind the paper. “Comes home every night and listens to an hour of opera. Like bloody clockwork, it is. Always the same bloke singing, too. You’d think he’d tire of the stuff.”
Phyllis flapped an impatient hand at her husband. “Don’t mind him. I enjoy opera, and I’m glad Paul is willing to share.”
Sylvia looked puzzled for a moment, but then she laughed softly. “Oh, no, Paul doesn’t listen to opera. He doesn’t have a radio or victrola or anything.”
It was Phyllis’s turn to look puzzled. “Then it must be Mrs. Barnham next door. She must turn it up very loud - she’s nearly deaf, the poor dear.”
Sylvia’s smile was enigmatic. “Perhaps it is Mrs. Barnham. Or perhaps Paul simply likes to sing.” And she walked away.
It wasn’t until Paul returned home later that evening and Nessun Dorma echoed from his open window did Phyllis realize what Sylvia had meant.
(359 words)
Phyllis glanced up from her knitting. “Pardon?”
“That girl, there, going to visit Paul.”
A young woman stood on the next door neighbor’s door step carrying a stack of plastic containers.
“That’s Sylvia, dear,” Phyllis said. “She comes by once a week to bring him food.”
“Oh.” Tom returned to the paper to search for football scores. Blackburn was doing terribly this year, so he’d pinned his hopes on Arsenal taking Man U down in the next match.
“Pardon me.”
Phyllis and Tom both looked up and saw Sylvia standing on the edge of their lawn.
“Hello - my name is Sylvia, and Paul’s one of my coworkers. I brought him some supper, but he’s not answering his door. I was wondering if you could just give this to him when he gets home.” She held out the stack of tupperware.
Phyllis set down her knitting and accepted the boxes from her. “Of course, dear. Do you know Paul well?”
“Well enough. He’s lonely is all.” Sylvia smiled, and Phyllis thought to herself that Sylvia was a very lovely girl to be spending time with a sourpuss like Paul.
“He’s a bit of a loud neighbor at times,” Tom grumbled from behind the paper. “Comes home every night and listens to an hour of opera. Like bloody clockwork, it is. Always the same bloke singing, too. You’d think he’d tire of the stuff.”
Phyllis flapped an impatient hand at her husband. “Don’t mind him. I enjoy opera, and I’m glad Paul is willing to share.”
Sylvia looked puzzled for a moment, but then she laughed softly. “Oh, no, Paul doesn’t listen to opera. He doesn’t have a radio or victrola or anything.”
It was Phyllis’s turn to look puzzled. “Then it must be Mrs. Barnham next door. She must turn it up very loud - she’s nearly deaf, the poor dear.”
Sylvia’s smile was enigmatic. “Perhaps it is Mrs. Barnham. Or perhaps Paul simply likes to sing.” And she walked away.
It wasn’t until Paul returned home later that evening and Nessun Dorma echoed from his open window did Phyllis realize what Sylvia had meant.
(359 words)
Lark
“She sings like a lark,” Joseph offered.
Timothy hid a grimace behind his cup of tea. “And she looks like a bag of boots.”
Marianne’s giggle was high-pitched and particularly annoying. She fanned herself with one of her kid gloves. “It wouldn’t be fair if God bestowed both beauty and such a magnificent voice on her, or one person’s greatness would encroach on Henry’s, and we can’t have that, can we?”
Henry stood in the corner of the parlor, hands clasped behind his back. “I don’t appreciate the insinuations in your comments, Miss Marianne.”
Again with the giggle. Timothy resisted the urge to cover his ears.
“Oh Henry, don’t be so insensitive.” Marianne flapper her glove at him. “Now send the little songbird home and we can talk properly - about marriage and children and things.”
Henry straightened the lapels of his jacket and cast Marianne a cold look. “She’s not just a songbird, and I shall not send her home if I so choose. Good day Timothy, Joseph.”
Marianne could only squeak like a strangled canary when she saw Henry step into the garden to speak to the girl.
“She sings like a lark,” Joseph said again.
Timothy smirked behind his cup of tea. “And she has a brain.”
(210 words)
Timothy hid a grimace behind his cup of tea. “And she looks like a bag of boots.”
Marianne’s giggle was high-pitched and particularly annoying. She fanned herself with one of her kid gloves. “It wouldn’t be fair if God bestowed both beauty and such a magnificent voice on her, or one person’s greatness would encroach on Henry’s, and we can’t have that, can we?”
Henry stood in the corner of the parlor, hands clasped behind his back. “I don’t appreciate the insinuations in your comments, Miss Marianne.”
Again with the giggle. Timothy resisted the urge to cover his ears.
“Oh Henry, don’t be so insensitive.” Marianne flapper her glove at him. “Now send the little songbird home and we can talk properly - about marriage and children and things.”
Henry straightened the lapels of his jacket and cast Marianne a cold look. “She’s not just a songbird, and I shall not send her home if I so choose. Good day Timothy, Joseph.”
Marianne could only squeak like a strangled canary when she saw Henry step into the garden to speak to the girl.
“She sings like a lark,” Joseph said again.
Timothy smirked behind his cup of tea. “And she has a brain.”
(210 words)
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Horizon
"You can't go." Sarah stated.
"Why not? There is nothing to keep me here." Seth replied, his words bitter.
"I don't want you to go, that's why." Sarah replied, looking at him hopefully. Seth said that he was leaving. Sarah knew that he hardly ever changed his mind once it was made up.
"Don't you get it? I don't care anymore. Not about you, not about this place, nothing. There is absolutely nothing to keep me here in this place. The sooner I leave the better for everyone. Mostly the best for me." Seth carefully cleaned the lenses of his sunglasses and placed them on his nose. His motorcycle was propped on its kickstand beside him, waiting to take him away.
"Is there anything I can say to make you change your mind?" Sarah asked, resigned to the fact that he was leaving.
"No. Nothing. Goodbye Sarah, I did enjoy knowing you. If we ever cross paths again, it will bring me pleasure." Seth mounted his bike and kicked it to life, it's throaty roar silencing further conversation.
Sarah watched Seth ride away.
"Bring me that Horizon," Seth said as he rode away from his life.
"Why not? There is nothing to keep me here." Seth replied, his words bitter.
"I don't want you to go, that's why." Sarah replied, looking at him hopefully. Seth said that he was leaving. Sarah knew that he hardly ever changed his mind once it was made up.
"Don't you get it? I don't care anymore. Not about you, not about this place, nothing. There is absolutely nothing to keep me here in this place. The sooner I leave the better for everyone. Mostly the best for me." Seth carefully cleaned the lenses of his sunglasses and placed them on his nose. His motorcycle was propped on its kickstand beside him, waiting to take him away.
"Is there anything I can say to make you change your mind?" Sarah asked, resigned to the fact that he was leaving.
"No. Nothing. Goodbye Sarah, I did enjoy knowing you. If we ever cross paths again, it will bring me pleasure." Seth mounted his bike and kicked it to life, it's throaty roar silencing further conversation.
Sarah watched Seth ride away.
"Bring me that Horizon," Seth said as he rode away from his life.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Lesser
“Just because there’s a lesser of two evils doesn’t mean there’s a good choice,” I said.
Joanna sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “This is one of those horrible choices in life where you have to actually choose to do something, and no one wins in the end.”
“Except him.”
“He’s not really winning if he’s dead.”
“But Gray will be dead too.” I sank down on the window seat and stared at my hands. Every time I closed my eyes I could see Gray’s smile and his eyes and feel his lips against mine as he made me promise to see this through.
And then I could see Luke’s face overlaying his, the same features and wide smile, but with a cruel twist and with a dark glitter in his eyes, and I wanted to cry.
Joanna sat down beside me. “Emma, if what you say is true --”
I jerked away from her, rose to my feet. “You mean even now, you still don’t believe me?”
Joanna took a deep breath. She had that expression on her face, the one she wore the time she told me I’d completely botched my New Historicism essay. But this wasn’t a damned term paper.
“Look, I know you and Luke really, really don’t get along --”
“You don’t know Luke. You’ve never seen what he really is --”
“He’s the boss’s son and bratty, I get it --” Joanna began, and then a voice singing cut us both off.
Luke leaned in the doorway, hands in his pockets, his smile too innocent to be sweet. The song was from Sweeney Todd. “I feel you...Johanna...”
Joanna cast him a dirty look.
“I’ll steal you...Johanna...”
I opened my mouth to offer the obvious riposte, but he beat me to it.
“Speak of the devil.”
(301 words)
Joanna sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “This is one of those horrible choices in life where you have to actually choose to do something, and no one wins in the end.”
“Except him.”
“He’s not really winning if he’s dead.”
“But Gray will be dead too.” I sank down on the window seat and stared at my hands. Every time I closed my eyes I could see Gray’s smile and his eyes and feel his lips against mine as he made me promise to see this through.
And then I could see Luke’s face overlaying his, the same features and wide smile, but with a cruel twist and with a dark glitter in his eyes, and I wanted to cry.
Joanna sat down beside me. “Emma, if what you say is true --”
I jerked away from her, rose to my feet. “You mean even now, you still don’t believe me?”
Joanna took a deep breath. She had that expression on her face, the one she wore the time she told me I’d completely botched my New Historicism essay. But this wasn’t a damned term paper.
“Look, I know you and Luke really, really don’t get along --”
“You don’t know Luke. You’ve never seen what he really is --”
“He’s the boss’s son and bratty, I get it --” Joanna began, and then a voice singing cut us both off.
Luke leaned in the doorway, hands in his pockets, his smile too innocent to be sweet. The song was from Sweeney Todd. “I feel you...Johanna...”
Joanna cast him a dirty look.
“I’ll steal you...Johanna...”
I opened my mouth to offer the obvious riposte, but he beat me to it.
“Speak of the devil.”
(301 words)
Thingmabob
"You know, if you can't fix it with a hammer; you have an electrical problem." Brian piped up from beside the machine where his brother was working.
"Hand me that doohickey will you?" Mark asked, reaching out from under the machine.
"Which dojigger are you taking about?" Brian responded, sitting in the chair and looking at all the various tools.
"The doodad that is curved at the point," Mark replied, rolling his eyes even though his brother couldn't see it.
"Don't roll your eyes at me," Brian said, "There are six doodads with curved ends. Which one do you want?"
"Just hand me any widget, just make sure it's not to big," Mark said.
Brian handed Mark a tool that vaguely resembled a curved vice grip. "Here." Brian watched Mark struggle with it for a moment, "are you done yet?"
"Nope, we're missing a thingamabob." Mark said, crawling out from under the machine.
"What kind of thingamabob?"
"A switch type button thingamabob that will reset the unit." Mark made a vague motion with his hands to describe the piece.
"One like this?" Brian held up a bit of machinery.
"That's it!" Mark whisked the bit from his brother and crawled under the machine again. A few seconds later the machine gave a heave and rumbled to life.
"Hand me that doohickey will you?" Mark asked, reaching out from under the machine.
"Which dojigger are you taking about?" Brian responded, sitting in the chair and looking at all the various tools.
"The doodad that is curved at the point," Mark replied, rolling his eyes even though his brother couldn't see it.
"Don't roll your eyes at me," Brian said, "There are six doodads with curved ends. Which one do you want?"
"Just hand me any widget, just make sure it's not to big," Mark said.
Brian handed Mark a tool that vaguely resembled a curved vice grip. "Here." Brian watched Mark struggle with it for a moment, "are you done yet?"
"Nope, we're missing a thingamabob." Mark said, crawling out from under the machine.
"What kind of thingamabob?"
"A switch type button thingamabob that will reset the unit." Mark made a vague motion with his hands to describe the piece.
"One like this?" Brian held up a bit of machinery.
"That's it!" Mark whisked the bit from his brother and crawled under the machine again. A few seconds later the machine gave a heave and rumbled to life.
Monday, April 13, 2009
Bookstore
“This is your ideal job? After all those years of school, you want to work in a bookstore?” Maria’s skepticism was completely understandable, but there was more to The Written Haven than a mere bookstore.
“First of all, I don’t work here - I’m technically in-house counsel.” Sarah knew her title didn’t mean much, especially as she was wearing jeans, a faded t-shirt, and her favorite, shapeless, dark green sweater. “The rules of professional ethics forbid me from being an actual partner in the corporation, but for all intents and purposes, I am. And it’s not just a bookstore - it’s also a publishing house.”
Maria prodded a volume of Harry Potter. “You saying you published these?”
Sarah swatted at her hand. “Of course not - we carry popular titles, obviously. But we also have a rare collection of first editions, and then those shelves over there --” they took up half of the store -- “hold everything we publish in-house.”
Maria wandered over toward the shelves, inspected covers and titles with the air of someone who was an expert. Sarah reminded herself that Maria thought Vogue was high literature and tried to smile.
“So...you publish poetry.”
“And novels, and non-fiction, and short stories. Also graphic novels.”
Maria’s eyes lit up. “How graphic?”
Sarah’s mouth twisted into a moue of distaste. “Not porn, Maria. Comic books. Only not superheroes.”
“What’s the point of a comic book without a superhero?”
“I had to learn that after all those years of school.” Sarah plucked a volume out of Maria’s hands and replaced it gently on the shelf. She’d worked hard, inking that volume. Mark had done the cover, and together he and Joanna had helped the writer get his art all picked out. It was one of their most popular titles to date.
And then Maria lit on the first volume of Numbers Untold. “You write anything sold on these shelves? Under a pseudo-whatsit - a pen name?”
Sarah smiled enigmatically. “Well, you’d have to read an actual book to find out.”
(340 words)
“First of all, I don’t work here - I’m technically in-house counsel.” Sarah knew her title didn’t mean much, especially as she was wearing jeans, a faded t-shirt, and her favorite, shapeless, dark green sweater. “The rules of professional ethics forbid me from being an actual partner in the corporation, but for all intents and purposes, I am. And it’s not just a bookstore - it’s also a publishing house.”
Maria prodded a volume of Harry Potter. “You saying you published these?”
Sarah swatted at her hand. “Of course not - we carry popular titles, obviously. But we also have a rare collection of first editions, and then those shelves over there --” they took up half of the store -- “hold everything we publish in-house.”
Maria wandered over toward the shelves, inspected covers and titles with the air of someone who was an expert. Sarah reminded herself that Maria thought Vogue was high literature and tried to smile.
“So...you publish poetry.”
“And novels, and non-fiction, and short stories. Also graphic novels.”
Maria’s eyes lit up. “How graphic?”
Sarah’s mouth twisted into a moue of distaste. “Not porn, Maria. Comic books. Only not superheroes.”
“What’s the point of a comic book without a superhero?”
“I had to learn that after all those years of school.” Sarah plucked a volume out of Maria’s hands and replaced it gently on the shelf. She’d worked hard, inking that volume. Mark had done the cover, and together he and Joanna had helped the writer get his art all picked out. It was one of their most popular titles to date.
And then Maria lit on the first volume of Numbers Untold. “You write anything sold on these shelves? Under a pseudo-whatsit - a pen name?”
Sarah smiled enigmatically. “Well, you’d have to read an actual book to find out.”
(340 words)
Welt
A welt was forming quickly where David had just taken a blow from a bokken, his arm had gone numb from the blow; but sensation returned rapidly, his arm protesting the abuse.
David had almost lost his grip on the practice sword, his palms slick with the sweat of exertion.
"You're getting better Dave," James said. He was rubbing at his shoulder as well.
"It reminds me of a dance," David said, taking his place again.
"Yes, the dance of death."
James whirled the bokken over his head and attacked again.
David blocked, flowing through the forms that were becoming second nature to him.
David had almost lost his grip on the practice sword, his palms slick with the sweat of exertion.
"You're getting better Dave," James said. He was rubbing at his shoulder as well.
"It reminds me of a dance," David said, taking his place again.
"Yes, the dance of death."
James whirled the bokken over his head and attacked again.
David blocked, flowing through the forms that were becoming second nature to him.
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Bending
“If you keep bending that, it’ll break,” Carolyn said absently.
Greg looked mildly guilty and set down her metal bookmark. “Are you done yet?”
“You know I have a big case coming up. I need to prep.” Her desk was stacked with files and folders, some of which looked liable to topple off the edge at a sneeze.
“Right now it just looks like you’re cutting up important paperwork into tiny strips.” Maybe there was a reason she’d never had a long-term relationship. If she worked this hard when she was interested in dating, how hard had she worked before? No one else was in the office this late on a Saturday, not even his father, and he was one of the founding senior partners.
“This is my method. It worked in law school, it worked in my first trial, and it’ll work now.” Carolyn glanced up at him. “You’re bored.”
He nodded.
She studied for a long moment, then said, “There’s a digital camera and a spare cartridge in my away bag. I have one more hour of work. You have one hour to make a decent short film.”
Greg’s eyebrows went up, but her expression was completely serious. A grin spread across his face. “You’re on, litigator,” he said.
Her smile in return was radiant. “When I got done with work, you better be too.”
(228 words)
Greg looked mildly guilty and set down her metal bookmark. “Are you done yet?”
“You know I have a big case coming up. I need to prep.” Her desk was stacked with files and folders, some of which looked liable to topple off the edge at a sneeze.
“Right now it just looks like you’re cutting up important paperwork into tiny strips.” Maybe there was a reason she’d never had a long-term relationship. If she worked this hard when she was interested in dating, how hard had she worked before? No one else was in the office this late on a Saturday, not even his father, and he was one of the founding senior partners.
“This is my method. It worked in law school, it worked in my first trial, and it’ll work now.” Carolyn glanced up at him. “You’re bored.”
He nodded.
She studied for a long moment, then said, “There’s a digital camera and a spare cartridge in my away bag. I have one more hour of work. You have one hour to make a decent short film.”
Greg’s eyebrows went up, but her expression was completely serious. A grin spread across his face. “You’re on, litigator,” he said.
Her smile in return was radiant. “When I got done with work, you better be too.”
(228 words)
Moonshine
David sat on the dirty floor, knees pulled to his chest, arms resting on his knees. A bottle of clear liquid hung from one limp hand; the bottle bore the XX of an ancient bottle of liquor. David knocked back another mouthful of the homemade gin and shuddered, sucking in a sharp breath and exhaling; the liquor burning as it went down. The sun filtered dimly through a window thick with accumulated dust and grime. The air was almost as dusty as the window. Old wooden crates were stacked high in the abandoned warehouse, many of them full of the old moonshine that he was now drinking, bottle by bottle. More than a dozen bottles were strewn empty around him.
He had been hiding out here for a few days, not ready to face the world again, a face haunting his mind and soul. David neither knew nor cared anymore what day it was; it was hard to focus through the haze of alcohol, he didn't know if it had been two or three days. His gun was loaded on the ground beside him.
David pulled himself out of his stupor enough to recognize footsteps echoing through the warehouse and the soft whisper of voices.
"I'm pretty sure he's here," one voice said.
"Are you sure? It doesn't look like anyone had been in here for years." a second voice said.
"The dust near the door was disturbed." the first voice responded.
David picked up his gun. Even through the alcoholic haze his hand was steady, his aim sure; his other hand sill held a bottle of gin.
Through blurry eyes David saw two figures come around one of the stacks of boxes.
"Boss?" Steve whispered, shocked at the state he found his commander in. He exchanged a look with Joe.
David lowered his gun, "Hey Steve, how you doing?" He slurred. "Is that Joe with you? Hey Joe, where are the others?"
Steve waved Joe to take a perimeter. He approached David slowly and sat beside him, shaking his head when David offered him the bottle. Steve watched as David swallowed more poison, he reached over and gently took the bottle from David's hand.
David thought about protesting, but decided that it wasn't worth the trouble. He leaned his head back against the crate behind him, closing his eyes. He saw again the cooling body on the ground before him.
Steve watched his commanders body go limp as he passed out from the booze. He let out a breath and shook his head. He had never seen his boss like this. He didn't know what had driven his commander here, or what had happened, he just knew he had to get him back to the base.
"Joe!" Steve called to his subordinate, "let's go. Grab his knees." Steve grabbed David under the arms as Joe took his legs.
They carried him out of the warehouse and placed him in the back of the waiting van, Mark and Brian in the front. Mark stepped on the gas as the back doors closed.
(500)
He had been hiding out here for a few days, not ready to face the world again, a face haunting his mind and soul. David neither knew nor cared anymore what day it was; it was hard to focus through the haze of alcohol, he didn't know if it had been two or three days. His gun was loaded on the ground beside him.
David pulled himself out of his stupor enough to recognize footsteps echoing through the warehouse and the soft whisper of voices.
"I'm pretty sure he's here," one voice said.
"Are you sure? It doesn't look like anyone had been in here for years." a second voice said.
"The dust near the door was disturbed." the first voice responded.
David picked up his gun. Even through the alcoholic haze his hand was steady, his aim sure; his other hand sill held a bottle of gin.
Through blurry eyes David saw two figures come around one of the stacks of boxes.
"Boss?" Steve whispered, shocked at the state he found his commander in. He exchanged a look with Joe.
David lowered his gun, "Hey Steve, how you doing?" He slurred. "Is that Joe with you? Hey Joe, where are the others?"
Steve waved Joe to take a perimeter. He approached David slowly and sat beside him, shaking his head when David offered him the bottle. Steve watched as David swallowed more poison, he reached over and gently took the bottle from David's hand.
David thought about protesting, but decided that it wasn't worth the trouble. He leaned his head back against the crate behind him, closing his eyes. He saw again the cooling body on the ground before him.
Steve watched his commanders body go limp as he passed out from the booze. He let out a breath and shook his head. He had never seen his boss like this. He didn't know what had driven his commander here, or what had happened, he just knew he had to get him back to the base.
"Joe!" Steve called to his subordinate, "let's go. Grab his knees." Steve grabbed David under the arms as Joe took his legs.
They carried him out of the warehouse and placed him in the back of the waiting van, Mark and Brian in the front. Mark stepped on the gas as the back doors closed.
(500)
Project Assignment # 24 - Once Again with feeling.....One word Challenge
This week to keep it simple, I know that finals are coming up soon, we will use the One word Challenge. Any word you choose for seven days. Keep it under 500 words but no less than 100. This is to help get the creative juices flowing again. I know I sorely need that. Probably Nagi needs it less. And come hell or high water, I will write every day this week!
Overview # 23 Fanfiction remix
This week was harder for me than I expected. I like writing fanfiction but unfortunately, I am not very good at it. It took me longer to write these than some others. I also found that I do not know the characters as well as I might have liked. I know I slacked again. It seems like I can get out a few and then life takes over and I hardly can find time. This next week should be better though apart from Monday. I will be making a conscious effort to write everyday.
I found it tough to fit what I wanted into just ten words, but it is a good exercise in concise writing which I should be practicing. I also realized that I don't have a whole lot of fanfictions. Just a hand full of shows that I watch. I suppose I could have done books...
I found it tough to fit what I wanted into just ten words, but it is a good exercise in concise writing which I should be practicing. I also realized that I don't have a whole lot of fanfictions. Just a hand full of shows that I watch. I suppose I could have done books...
Saturday, April 11, 2009
Overview #23 - Fandom Ficlets
This was good times for me. I was actually surprised at how few operating fandoms I actually write in and so picked up a couple (Chicago Hope, Mortal Instruments, Firefly) in which I've never written at all. I started off with a major fandom of mine and ended with a major fandom, so it was good times for me. I made a bit of a game of it, using the prior fandom for the crossover in the next fandom (don't know if anyone caught that; sometimes it was hard to spot). I discovered that humor is difficult to convey in only ten words, especially if I'm not as familiar with the fandom I'd like. Also, humor often demands context. Also my sense of fluff and romance were a bit broken, as well. I did my best. It was a good exercise to see what I can write in and what genres fail me. I tried not to be too obvious where the AUs were concerned. Oftentimes it was easiest to just do a flip of profession - Danny was a patient instead of a surgeon, Hotch was a victim instead of a profiler (unsub would have been too easy), Jayce as a mundane instead of a hunter. Other times it was switching teams - Duo in OZ, Farf in Weiss, Simon working for the Alliance. I was particularly proud of my AU choice with Severus, as everyone else is usually itching to put him in Gryffindor in a House Switch. I do maintain that his best alternate house was probably Ravenclaw, although Hufflepuff!Snape would have been quite the sight. Fandom isn't always as easy as I like to think, and this was a good stretch.
Severus Dissevered
Angst
He raised his wand against his mentor, friend, and cast.
AU
The teacher read, “Severus Snape!”
The Sorting Hat exclaimed, “Ravenclaw!”
Crackfic
“What’s Snape wearing?”
“Looks like Neville’s Gran’s favorite hat.”
“Right-o.”
Crossover
“Don’t speak to me, Wolf.”
“My name is Luke, Severus.”
Dark
Harry dreamt of Snape branding followers with the Dark Mark.
Fluff
“Smile occasionally, Potter. Your mother would’ve liked to see it.”
Humor
“Potter, hand over that kitten immediately! She’s not for potions!”
Hurt/Comfort
Severus sat opposite Remus and lifted a glass for Sirius.
Romance
Dearest Lily, I’ve left his service. Amor vincit Omnia.
~ Severus
UST
He passed Lily - she was pregnant, glowing - and ached fiercely.
He raised his wand against his mentor, friend, and cast.
AU
The teacher read, “Severus Snape!”
The Sorting Hat exclaimed, “Ravenclaw!”
Crackfic
“What’s Snape wearing?”
“Looks like Neville’s Gran’s favorite hat.”
“Right-o.”
Crossover
“Don’t speak to me, Wolf.”
“My name is Luke, Severus.”
Dark
Harry dreamt of Snape branding followers with the Dark Mark.
Fluff
“Smile occasionally, Potter. Your mother would’ve liked to see it.”
Humor
“Potter, hand over that kitten immediately! She’s not for potions!”
Hurt/Comfort
Severus sat opposite Remus and lifted a glass for Sirius.
Romance
Dearest Lily, I’ve left his service. Amor vincit Omnia.
~ Severus
UST
He passed Lily - she was pregnant, glowing - and ached fiercely.
Friday, April 10, 2009
Jayce on the Job
(Mortal Instruments Trilogy)
Angst
The last thing he saw before he died was Valentine.
AU
“I’m Clary. Now come on - that Demon wants your blood.”
Crackfic
“Hi everyone! My name’s Jayce, your brand new yell leader.”
Crossover
“Buffy, Willow, this is Jayce. He’ll help with the demons.”
Dark
Jayce followed Valentine through the portal and never looked back.
Fluff
“Hey Clary, I fixed that vampire’s motorcycle. Here’s the keys.”
Humor
“Jayce, you aren’t flirting?”
“Girl’s a siren. Wants my liver.”
Hurt/Comfort
He gripped her hand as the stele burnt her skin.
Romance
“So you’ll give me the heroine’s kiss I’ve earned?”
“Absolutely.”
UST
His heart didn’t matter; he had to keep her alive.
Angst
The last thing he saw before he died was Valentine.
AU
“I’m Clary. Now come on - that Demon wants your blood.”
Crackfic
“Hi everyone! My name’s Jayce, your brand new yell leader.”
Crossover
“Buffy, Willow, this is Jayce. He’ll help with the demons.”
Dark
Jayce followed Valentine through the portal and never looked back.
Fluff
“Hey Clary, I fixed that vampire’s motorcycle. Here’s the keys.”
Humor
“Jayce, you aren’t flirting?”
“Girl’s a siren. Wants my liver.”
Hurt/Comfort
He gripped her hand as the stele burnt her skin.
Romance
“So you’ll give me the heroine’s kiss I’ve earned?”
“Absolutely.”
UST
His heart didn’t matter; he had to keep her alive.
Thursday, April 9, 2009
Souped-up Simon
Angst
The Alliance had taken his sister. He’d lost her. Forever.
AU
“You’ve been shot, Captain Reynolds.”
“Who’re you?”
“Dr. Tam, Alliance.”
Crackfic
“Naked on a statue of Hippocrates?”
“Simon says saké’s dangerous.”
Crossover
“Dr. Tam, this is Phillip Watters.”
“Welcome to Chicago Hope.”
Dark
They’d taken his sister. Scalpel in hand, oath be damned.
Fluff
“Simon’s helping with the engine.”
“It’s burning!”
“But he cares.”
Humor
“Doc - what happened?”
“He ingested nitrous oxide. It’ll wear off.”
Hurt/Comfort
He held Zoe’s hand, drew the sheet over Wash’s face.
Romance
“Hey Simon.”
“I got us some real strawberries. To share.”
UST
He couldn’t have her; his sister had to come first.
The Alliance had taken his sister. He’d lost her. Forever.
AU
“You’ve been shot, Captain Reynolds.”
“Who’re you?”
“Dr. Tam, Alliance.”
Crackfic
“Naked on a statue of Hippocrates?”
“Simon says saké’s dangerous.”
Crossover
“Dr. Tam, this is Phillip Watters.”
“Welcome to Chicago Hope.”
Dark
They’d taken his sister. Scalpel in hand, oath be damned.
Fluff
“Simon’s helping with the engine.”
“It’s burning!”
“But he cares.”
Humor
“Doc - what happened?”
“He ingested nitrous oxide. It’ll wear off.”
Hurt/Comfort
He held Zoe’s hand, drew the sheet over Wash’s face.
Romance
“Hey Simon.”
“I got us some real strawberries. To share.”
UST
He couldn’t have her; his sister had to come first.
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
Shakin' Down Danny
(Fandom: Chicago Hope)
Angst
Infante was wrong. He would never use his hand again.
AU
“Patient’s Daniel Nyland, suffered three gunshot wounds to the chest.”
Crackfic
“Why’s Danny wearing a toga and wings?”
“Lost a bet.”
Crossover
“Schwarz only takes the Talented.”
“He’s talented. He’s a surgeon.”
Dark
“Sometimes we’re humans, not doctors, and we let them die.”
Fluff
“You coming in?”
“Not tonight.”
“Why?”
“Because I love you.”
Humor
“Someone hit Danny with a bat?”
“Nurse turned him down.”
Hurt/Comfort
The operation had failed. He held her, and she cried.
Romance
“Love at first sight?”
“You’re Danny, right?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m Diane.
UST
Whenever Billy smiled at her, he had to look away.
Angst
Infante was wrong. He would never use his hand again.
AU
“Patient’s Daniel Nyland, suffered three gunshot wounds to the chest.”
Crackfic
“Why’s Danny wearing a toga and wings?”
“Lost a bet.”
Crossover
“Schwarz only takes the Talented.”
“He’s talented. He’s a surgeon.”
Dark
“Sometimes we’re humans, not doctors, and we let them die.”
Fluff
“You coming in?”
“Not tonight.”
“Why?”
“Because I love you.”
Humor
“Someone hit Danny with a bat?”
“Nurse turned him down.”
Hurt/Comfort
The operation had failed. He held her, and she cried.
Romance
“Love at first sight?”
“You’re Danny, right?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m Diane.
UST
Whenever Billy smiled at her, he had to look away.
Abby Rocks
Angst
"No, Michael, never again will I say those words."
AU
"I said get on the ground!"
"Agent Shuto, You're under arrest."
Crackfic
"Get a tattoo, are you crazy? I would never do that."
Crossover
"Garcia, this is Abby, she will be helping you now."
Dark
"You will never find evidence to link it to me.
Fluff
"You can borrow Bert."
"The farting Hippo?"
"Yeah, he's cuddly."
Humor
"Major Mass-Spec is on the fritz."
"It's a machine."
"Yup."
Hurt/Comfort
"I won't let anyone hurt you Abs."
"You promise?"
"Yes."
Romance
"You still have my toothbrush?"
"Yes."
"Creepy but sweet, McGee."
UST
"No matter what I say, he won't come back. Ever."
"No, Michael, never again will I say those words."
AU
"I said get on the ground!"
"Agent Shuto, You're under arrest."
Crackfic
"Get a tattoo, are you crazy? I would never do that."
Crossover
"Garcia, this is Abby, she will be helping you now."
Dark
"You will never find evidence to link it to me.
Fluff
"You can borrow Bert."
"The farting Hippo?"
"Yeah, he's cuddly."
Humor
"Major Mass-Spec is on the fritz."
"It's a machine."
"Yup."
Hurt/Comfort
"I won't let anyone hurt you Abs."
"You promise?"
"Yes."
Romance
"You still have my toothbrush?"
"Yes."
"Creepy but sweet, McGee."
UST
"No matter what I say, he won't come back. Ever."
Fiona Glenanne... Ex-IRA
Angst
He would never see her as more than a weapon.
AU
"You're going to blow them up? What's the matter with you?"
Crackfic
"Wait, wait, let me get this straight. She's a he?!?"
Crossover
"She's a psychopathic killer."
"No, she's former IRA."
"Same difference."
Dark
"They decided you were expendable. Sorry Michael. I loved you."
Fluff
"You got us a dog?"
"And an apartment."
"Love you too."
Humor
"You know it would just be easier to have sex."
Hurt/Comfort
"I thought you were dead. I thought I was alone.
Romance
"A Kate sniper rifle for me? I'm touched you remembered."
UST
"I need you alive Michael. I hope you know that."
He would never see her as more than a weapon.
AU
"You're going to blow them up? What's the matter with you?"
Crackfic
"Wait, wait, let me get this straight. She's a he?!?"
Crossover
"She's a psychopathic killer."
"No, she's former IRA."
"Same difference."
Dark
"They decided you were expendable. Sorry Michael. I loved you."
Fluff
"You got us a dog?"
"And an apartment."
"Love you too."
Humor
"You know it would just be easier to have sex."
Hurt/Comfort
"I thought you were dead. I thought I was alone.
Romance
"A Kate sniper rifle for me? I'm touched you remembered."
UST
"I need you alive Michael. I hope you know that."
Ziva
Angst
"I killed him." I killed my own brother." "Sorry Arie."
AU
"I'm giving a garden party." "The main course is Ham."
Crackfic
"Abbie took me to get my first tattoo."
"A rainbow?"
Crossover
"Can you pilot a Guymelefs?"
"Does a bird have wings?"
Dark
"The musad said kill, and so I do.""I'm sorry."
Fluff
"You have a cat?"
"Yeah. I call her, Miss cuddles."
Humor
"I hope to create a linear waterfowl equation."
"Ducks, Ziva."
Hurt/Comfort
"I'm sorry Tony, this is just the way it is."
Romance
"I know he's dying, that doesn't change how I feel."
UST
"Remember the undercover op?" "I wish it had been real."
"I killed him." I killed my own brother." "Sorry Arie."
AU
"I'm giving a garden party." "The main course is Ham."
Crackfic
"Abbie took me to get my first tattoo."
"A rainbow?"
Crossover
"Can you pilot a Guymelefs?"
"Does a bird have wings?"
Dark
"The musad said kill, and so I do.""I'm sorry."
Fluff
"You have a cat?"
"Yeah. I call her, Miss cuddles."
Humor
"I hope to create a linear waterfowl equation."
"Ducks, Ziva."
Hurt/Comfort
"I'm sorry Tony, this is just the way it is."
Romance
"I know he's dying, that doesn't change how I feel."
UST
"Remember the undercover op?" "I wish it had been real."
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
Farfarello Unfurled
Angst
He could still hear his parents’ screams, feel them die.
AU
“Omi, meet Jei, the newest member of Weiss. Have fun!”
Crackfic
“That’s Farfarello?”
“Yeah.”
“Eyepatch Farfarello?”
“Yeah.”
“Singing opera?”
“Yep.”
“Okay.”
Crossover
“Wufei, this is Jei - he’s pro-colony, too. He’s tough.”
Dark
An entire monastery, and not a scream. Could God hurt?
Fluff
“Happy Birthday, Nagi!”
“Thanks! I always wanted my own knives.”
Humor
“Farfarello murdered something the kitchen, Crawford.”
“No, he’s making spaghetti.”
Hurt/Comfort
“If I slice off this limb, that one won’t hurt.”
Romance
“You left her a dead puppy.”
...
“That's so sweet.”
UST
Kitten’s pretty sister would never smile at him, never again.
He could still hear his parents’ screams, feel them die.
AU
“Omi, meet Jei, the newest member of Weiss. Have fun!”
Crackfic
“That’s Farfarello?”
“Yeah.”
“Eyepatch Farfarello?”
“Yeah.”
“Singing opera?”
“Yep.”
“Okay.”
Crossover
“Wufei, this is Jei - he’s pro-colony, too. He’s tough.”
Dark
An entire monastery, and not a scream. Could God hurt?
Fluff
“Happy Birthday, Nagi!”
“Thanks! I always wanted my own knives.”
Humor
“Farfarello murdered something the kitchen, Crawford.”
“No, he’s making spaghetti.”
Hurt/Comfort
“If I slice off this limb, that one won’t hurt.”
Romance
“You left her a dead puppy.”
...
“That's so sweet.”
UST
Kitten’s pretty sister would never smile at him, never again.
Downloadable Duo
Angst
He shivered in the cell. They’d hacked off his hair.
AU
“Lieutenant Maxwell, report!”
“Colonel Khushrenada - I think it’s a Gundam.”
Crackfic
“Why is Duo’s hair blond?”
“Community theatre production. He’s Rapunzel.”
Crossover
“Records show the unsub’s name is --”
“Duo Maxwell? For real?”
Dark
Bodies littered the floor. A radio blared Don’t Fear The Reaper.
Fluff
“I brought you a teddy-bear.”
“...Hn.”
“You’re welcome, Heero.”
Humor
“Really, Duo?”
“But it’s good for your hair! Just...scented.”
Hurt/Comfort
“Duo -”
“It’s over. You never have to kill again. Sleep.”
Romance
“Gears? For me?”
“I know how my lady likes engines.”
UST
“Hilde’s nice.” “She doesn’t even know my name. Let’s leave.”
He shivered in the cell. They’d hacked off his hair.
AU
“Lieutenant Maxwell, report!”
“Colonel Khushrenada - I think it’s a Gundam.”
Crackfic
“Why is Duo’s hair blond?”
“Community theatre production. He’s Rapunzel.”
Crossover
“Records show the unsub’s name is --”
“Duo Maxwell? For real?”
Dark
Bodies littered the floor. A radio blared Don’t Fear The Reaper.
Fluff
“I brought you a teddy-bear.”
“...Hn.”
“You’re welcome, Heero.”
Humor
“Really, Duo?”
“But it’s good for your hair! Just...scented.”
Hurt/Comfort
“Duo -”
“It’s over. You never have to kill again. Sleep.”
Romance
“Gears? For me?”
“I know how my lady likes engines.”
UST
“Hilde’s nice.” “She doesn’t even know my name. Let’s leave.”
Monday, April 6, 2009
Samantha Carter Shakes it Up
Angst
"Sir, don't die on me. I love you. Don't leave."
AU
"Thank you Felger, you just saved my life. Marry Me."
Crackfic
"Why are you so dirty Carter?
"New mud wrestling place..."
Crossover
"If you don't move it now Spencer, I'll shoot you." (Sam is military, and it's Spencer from CM)
Dark
"She asked to be a Goa'uld."
"I don't believe you."
Fluff
"You got me a ZAT'NI'KATEL?"
"I know you love them."
Humor
"I told you they would end up together. Pay up."
Hurt/Comfort
"I told you why."
"That doesn't mean it stops hurting."
Romance
"I love you sir, I always have.
"I know Carter."
UST
"It will only ever be in my dreams, won't it."
"Sir, don't die on me. I love you. Don't leave."
AU
"Thank you Felger, you just saved my life. Marry Me."
Crackfic
"Why are you so dirty Carter?
"New mud wrestling place..."
Crossover
"If you don't move it now Spencer, I'll shoot you." (Sam is military, and it's Spencer from CM)
Dark
"She asked to be a Goa'uld."
"I don't believe you."
Fluff
"You got me a ZAT'NI'KATEL?"
"I know you love them."
Humor
"I told you they would end up together. Pay up."
Hurt/Comfort
"I told you why."
"That doesn't mean it stops hurting."
Romance
"I love you sir, I always have.
"I know Carter."
UST
"It will only ever be in my dreams, won't it."
Sunday, April 5, 2009
Hotch Reshuffled
Angst
Haley was home, but a man picked up the phone.
AU
“Mr. Hotchner, we have the unsub in custody. You’re safe.”
Crackfic
“Hotch’s wearing body glitter?”
“Reid says it’s David Bowie day.
Crossover
“Dr. Hotchner, can you assist Dr. Geiger with the transplant?”
Dark
“Got a hit on the unsub?”
“His name’s Aaron Hotchner.”
Fluff
“A puppy’s a big responsibility --”
“Thanks Daddy!”
“Love you, Jack.”
Humor
“Is Hotch all right?”
“Jack just got his driver’s license.”
Hurt/Comfort
“Jack. You’re safe.”
“Did you catch the bad guy?”
“Yes.”
Romance
“Why are there roses...?”
“Happy anniversary, Haley.”
“Kiss me, Aaron.”
UST
She watched him across the bullpen. He never watched back.
Haley was home, but a man picked up the phone.
AU
“Mr. Hotchner, we have the unsub in custody. You’re safe.”
Crackfic
“Hotch’s wearing body glitter?”
“Reid says it’s David Bowie day.
Crossover
“Dr. Hotchner, can you assist Dr. Geiger with the transplant?”
Dark
“Got a hit on the unsub?”
“His name’s Aaron Hotchner.”
Fluff
“A puppy’s a big responsibility --”
“Thanks Daddy!”
“Love you, Jack.”
Humor
“Is Hotch all right?”
“Jack just got his driver’s license.”
Hurt/Comfort
“Jack. You’re safe.”
“Did you catch the bad guy?”
“Yes.”
Romance
“Why are there roses...?”
“Happy anniversary, Haley.”
“Kiss me, Aaron.”
UST
She watched him across the bullpen. He never watched back.
Project #23: Fandom Reshuffles
This week we're going back into fandom, because fandom is easy and reshuffles are fun. Pick a character from any fandom, and then write ten ten-word sentences for the following categories:
Angst
AU (alternate universe)
Crackfic
Crossover
Dark
Fluff
Humor
Hurt/Comfort
Romance
UST (unresolved sexual tension)
Let me know if you have questions about the categories. Remember, ten words per sentence per category.
Angst
AU (alternate universe)
Crackfic
Crossover
Dark
Fluff
Humor
Hurt/Comfort
Romance
UST (unresolved sexual tension)
Let me know if you have questions about the categories. Remember, ten words per sentence per category.
Overview #22 - Journeys
Yes, this week was an incomplete for me as well. In my defense, General Conference occurred, and it's essentially an all-day event, so I got a little sidetracked. It was fun to write a journey. I've noticed that in my most of my novels no physical journeys occur, so it was fun to take a literal journey rather than a metaphorical one. Some journeys were metaphorical, but getting the mere chance to explore that was very good times indeed. I enjoyed dabbling in a little Sandman, as well as working on some kinks for some other novels that may or may not be going down. I love to travel, and I find it odd that I never write about traveling, so this was fun.
Overview # 22 - Travels
I had fun this week. It was fun to describe various places that I hope to see and things that I imagine that I will be able to see when I am there. I was interested to see the various ways that a journey was described. I had not thought about some of the journeys that were described this week. Like the post on the doctor looking his hand that Nagi posted.
I didn't post every day, but It was not as scanty as last week. I look forward for this next weeks challenge.
I didn't post every day, but It was not as scanty as last week. I look forward for this next weeks challenge.
Thursday, April 2, 2009
Into the Wild
The air itself seemed green. Vines hung heavy from the towering moss covered trees and water dripped steadily down from the canopy overhead. Rich loamy soil was black underfoot; a multitude of plant life springing up from the ground. Brightly colored lizards and frogs slithered along the ground. The air was alive with the calls of exotic birds.
Kevin pushed his way through thick vegetation, clearing a narrow path with his machete. Sweat poured down his face in the thick heat of the afternoon. His clothes were damp from a passing rain storm that only added to his discomfort.
Kevin paused his efforts to mop his face. Twigs snapped nearby and Kevin dropped to the ground, seeking shelter behind a large fern. Peeking out between fronds, Kevin saw black fur passing by. A large panther was dragging the carcass of a small deer like animal. Kevin watched the panther scale a tree, wedging its prey between some branches.
Once he was sure that the predator was occupied with its meal Kevin rose from his place and quietly slunk away.
Kevin pushed his way through thick vegetation, clearing a narrow path with his machete. Sweat poured down his face in the thick heat of the afternoon. His clothes were damp from a passing rain storm that only added to his discomfort.
Kevin paused his efforts to mop his face. Twigs snapped nearby and Kevin dropped to the ground, seeking shelter behind a large fern. Peeking out between fronds, Kevin saw black fur passing by. A large panther was dragging the carcass of a small deer like animal. Kevin watched the panther scale a tree, wedging its prey between some branches.
Once he was sure that the predator was occupied with its meal Kevin rose from his place and quietly slunk away.
In the Valley
“Do you want it or not?” the little girl asked. She was dressed like Little Bo Peep in an old-fashioned, full-skirted pink monstrosity of a dress, but instead of a shepherd’s crook she held a pitch fork.
Annie certainly wasn’t in Kansas anymore. “Yes, I do want it.” She had no idea what it was, but so far everyone she’d seen while wandering through this fairytale valley had asked if she wanted it, and if she said yes, she was given directions forward. She was glad she’d made it to the valley, which was mostly full of flowers and girls weeping and the occasional charge of the light brigade. The forest had been less pleasant, with lost children wandering, cottages made of candy, little girls in red cloaks talking to anthropomorphic wolves, and seven little men who brandished their pickaxes at her.
The little girl beamed and twirled the pitchfork like an expert spear fighter. She traced a complicated pattern in the air that ended with the pitchfork pointed over her shoulder along the valley floor.
“If you can find the yellow brick road - it’s a little hidden under Aurora’s thorns, because Prince Philip was a little rushed during the most recent rescue - then follow it until you reach a trail of bread crumbs. Those should take you past the Two Brothers’ houses, and from there you should follow the raven to the gates of horn and ivory. Tell the Wyvern you seek audience with the Dream King, and he’ll give you what you want.”
Annie nodded, trying not to snicker at the thought of Prince Philip thundering down the Yellow, and suddenly it hit her, full-force between the eyes. The entire valley stretched out before her, and yet she could see it all, every blade of grass, every brick in the road, each tangle of thorns that choked at the path, a pair of houses - one neat, the other cluttered - and then it all ended at a gate.
The gate.
Of ivory and horn.
Annie took the first step forward.
(344 words)
Annie certainly wasn’t in Kansas anymore. “Yes, I do want it.” She had no idea what it was, but so far everyone she’d seen while wandering through this fairytale valley had asked if she wanted it, and if she said yes, she was given directions forward. She was glad she’d made it to the valley, which was mostly full of flowers and girls weeping and the occasional charge of the light brigade. The forest had been less pleasant, with lost children wandering, cottages made of candy, little girls in red cloaks talking to anthropomorphic wolves, and seven little men who brandished their pickaxes at her.
The little girl beamed and twirled the pitchfork like an expert spear fighter. She traced a complicated pattern in the air that ended with the pitchfork pointed over her shoulder along the valley floor.
“If you can find the yellow brick road - it’s a little hidden under Aurora’s thorns, because Prince Philip was a little rushed during the most recent rescue - then follow it until you reach a trail of bread crumbs. Those should take you past the Two Brothers’ houses, and from there you should follow the raven to the gates of horn and ivory. Tell the Wyvern you seek audience with the Dream King, and he’ll give you what you want.”
Annie nodded, trying not to snicker at the thought of Prince Philip thundering down the Yellow, and suddenly it hit her, full-force between the eyes. The entire valley stretched out before her, and yet she could see it all, every blade of grass, every brick in the road, each tangle of thorns that choked at the path, a pair of houses - one neat, the other cluttered - and then it all ended at a gate.
The gate.
Of ivory and horn.
Annie took the first step forward.
(344 words)
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
On the Wind
The engine of The Beast was knocking, but Clay couldn’t really complain. He’d tried to, once, when they’d stopped to get gas a few hours ago, but the wordless glare Bob had sent him was enough to fell most men. Clay had endured that glare most of his life and supposed his brotherly immunity had to be worth something.
The engine of The Beast always knocked whenever they drove it over sixty-five, and it had been knocking for - well, the past few days. Clay didn’t know Carolyn well enough to really judge her relationship with his brother. All Clay knew was that when it was Bob-and-Carolyn, Bob was over-the-moon happy. And when it suddenly ended - Bob acknowledged that it was his fault - Bob was miserable.
Clay glanced at his brother where he lay in the passenger seat. It was hard to be angry when Bob looked so frail. The shadows around his eyes were darker than ever before, and he’d lost weight - more than he could afford. Clay was sure he’d seen Bob take his meds that morning, but with so many pills it was hard to tell if he took them all, or if he was taking the right ones. Bob’s arms were marred with bruises, too, because he was tired, and being tired made him clumsy, and now he bruised so easily. His skin was pale, stretched tight over his bones, like thin paper.
Clay sighed and stared at the road ahead. Another green road sign flashed past the windshield, a morass of letters and numbers. To Clay, it was further evidence of their madness as they got further and further from home. All Bob probably saw was Carolyn’s name, etched on the sign in place of the towns and cities they weren’t heading toward.
The knocking became worse, and Clay was forced to shut off the AC, which meant cracking a window. The howling was awful, but the radio was too weak to play over it. Bob just closed his eyes and tipped his head back, uncaring of the way the wind whipped his hair into his face.
“Can you hear it?” he asked.
“Hear what?” Clay shot back. The slow death of The Beast’s engine? His own insanity draining out his ears?
“Her name,” Bob said. “On the wind.” He was smiling.
Clay wondered if his brother was already gone, and they hadn’t even gotten to where they were going.
(inspired by this video)
(409 words)
The engine of The Beast always knocked whenever they drove it over sixty-five, and it had been knocking for - well, the past few days. Clay didn’t know Carolyn well enough to really judge her relationship with his brother. All Clay knew was that when it was Bob-and-Carolyn, Bob was over-the-moon happy. And when it suddenly ended - Bob acknowledged that it was his fault - Bob was miserable.
Clay glanced at his brother where he lay in the passenger seat. It was hard to be angry when Bob looked so frail. The shadows around his eyes were darker than ever before, and he’d lost weight - more than he could afford. Clay was sure he’d seen Bob take his meds that morning, but with so many pills it was hard to tell if he took them all, or if he was taking the right ones. Bob’s arms were marred with bruises, too, because he was tired, and being tired made him clumsy, and now he bruised so easily. His skin was pale, stretched tight over his bones, like thin paper.
Clay sighed and stared at the road ahead. Another green road sign flashed past the windshield, a morass of letters and numbers. To Clay, it was further evidence of their madness as they got further and further from home. All Bob probably saw was Carolyn’s name, etched on the sign in place of the towns and cities they weren’t heading toward.
The knocking became worse, and Clay was forced to shut off the AC, which meant cracking a window. The howling was awful, but the radio was too weak to play over it. Bob just closed his eyes and tipped his head back, uncaring of the way the wind whipped his hair into his face.
“Can you hear it?” he asked.
“Hear what?” Clay shot back. The slow death of The Beast’s engine? His own insanity draining out his ears?
“Her name,” Bob said. “On the wind.” He was smiling.
Clay wondered if his brother was already gone, and they hadn’t even gotten to where they were going.
(inspired by this video)
(409 words)
Another Memory
Rain misted out the the gray sky, soaking into the green countryside. Narrow roads followed stone walls that partitioned tracts of land. Cows and sheep chewed quietly in the fields, paying no attention to the passing world. The scent of wild onions drifted on the breeze, mixing with the tangible breath of life from the growing plants. The air was crisp and clear.
Kyle stood, leaning against a low stone wall beneath a tree, watching the blossoms of flowers bend gently in the wind. His brown hair was matted to his head; a curious smile gracing his mouth. His wiry body was encased in a old leather jacket and blue jeans, the rain making rivulets down the leather. His sturdy boots were encrusted with mud. A small pack rested on the ground next to him, filled with dried fruit and jerky, a small map covered in dots, a small bound journal and a sketchbook. He had just left a small town behind him, his destination, another small town. He didn't stay long in any one area. There was another dot added to his map as he left the town. He didn't mind sleeping out of doors.
The rain let up and Kyle looked up at they sky. The sun seemed as if it would make an appearance, and so he decided to continue to the next town. Shouldering his pack, Kyle stepped out from under the tree and hummed a tune as he walked down the country road. Another town, another memory.
Kyle stood, leaning against a low stone wall beneath a tree, watching the blossoms of flowers bend gently in the wind. His brown hair was matted to his head; a curious smile gracing his mouth. His wiry body was encased in a old leather jacket and blue jeans, the rain making rivulets down the leather. His sturdy boots were encrusted with mud. A small pack rested on the ground next to him, filled with dried fruit and jerky, a small map covered in dots, a small bound journal and a sketchbook. He had just left a small town behind him, his destination, another small town. He didn't stay long in any one area. There was another dot added to his map as he left the town. He didn't mind sleeping out of doors.
The rain let up and Kyle looked up at they sky. The sun seemed as if it would make an appearance, and so he decided to continue to the next town. Shouldering his pack, Kyle stepped out from under the tree and hummed a tune as he walked down the country road. Another town, another memory.
A New Path
Samantha stepped out of her hotel into the bright Mediterranean light. The light here felt more palpable her than at home, as if she could reach out and touch it. The air was warm, but not hot yet, it was still morning.
Sam placed her feet carefully on the uneven cobblestones, walking down the old village street, her camera out to capture the essence of her travels. Old men and women sit at small cafes that have been there for hundreds of years. The peacefulness of the town broken by the chatter of people on cell phones and the buzzing of scooters. Tradition meeting modern convenience.
Sam looked up at the sun, shading her eyes, as the bells from a church down the road tolled the hour. Sam crossed the street and entered the market. Merchants calling out their wares in a language that Sam barely understood. The air was heavy with ripe scents. Piquant spices, heady smelling cheeses, sweet tomatoes and fresh herbs. Money changed hands as Sam bought a small loaf of fresh bread and walked on.
A flock of pidgins took flight as Sam approached the canals. The water flowed by at a leisurely pace, as if matching the speed of life. Painters had set up their easels near the crossroads of the canals, some painting while others were displaying their wares.
Sam approached a line of boats moored in the canal, considering each in turn as she waled by, many of the boatmen calling to her. Sam finally stopped near the end when she heard a soft, gentle voice call out to her in accented English. "Scusi Signorina, you would like a ride? It is a beautiful day for one."
Sam looked up at the young man. He had black hair and a deep olive complexion. His smile showed even white teeth and dimples in his cheeks. Curiously, he had bright blue eyes instead of the black eyes of his countrymen. He leaned against his pole that would propel his craft through the canal.
"Si," Sam said stepping towards the small boat. The young man stepped forward and offered her his hand to climb aboard. Sam grasped his warm calloused hand and stepped easily into the boat. She was steered to a cushioned seat in the middle of the boat; and the man took his place at the front.
"Where would you like to go Signorina?" The man asked as he steered the boat away from the dock.
"I wish to see something beautiful. Where would you go?" Sam asked.
His dimples returned as he flashed a smile. "I know the best spot Signorina." He pushed off in a new direction towards a quiet canal, lined with hanging gardens and ancient churches.
(I am still working on the modifiers...)
Sam placed her feet carefully on the uneven cobblestones, walking down the old village street, her camera out to capture the essence of her travels. Old men and women sit at small cafes that have been there for hundreds of years. The peacefulness of the town broken by the chatter of people on cell phones and the buzzing of scooters. Tradition meeting modern convenience.
Sam looked up at the sun, shading her eyes, as the bells from a church down the road tolled the hour. Sam crossed the street and entered the market. Merchants calling out their wares in a language that Sam barely understood. The air was heavy with ripe scents. Piquant spices, heady smelling cheeses, sweet tomatoes and fresh herbs. Money changed hands as Sam bought a small loaf of fresh bread and walked on.
A flock of pidgins took flight as Sam approached the canals. The water flowed by at a leisurely pace, as if matching the speed of life. Painters had set up their easels near the crossroads of the canals, some painting while others were displaying their wares.
Sam approached a line of boats moored in the canal, considering each in turn as she waled by, many of the boatmen calling to her. Sam finally stopped near the end when she heard a soft, gentle voice call out to her in accented English. "Scusi Signorina, you would like a ride? It is a beautiful day for one."
Sam looked up at the young man. He had black hair and a deep olive complexion. His smile showed even white teeth and dimples in his cheeks. Curiously, he had bright blue eyes instead of the black eyes of his countrymen. He leaned against his pole that would propel his craft through the canal.
"Si," Sam said stepping towards the small boat. The young man stepped forward and offered her his hand to climb aboard. Sam grasped his warm calloused hand and stepped easily into the boat. She was steered to a cushioned seat in the middle of the boat; and the man took his place at the front.
"Where would you like to go Signorina?" The man asked as he steered the boat away from the dock.
"I wish to see something beautiful. Where would you go?" Sam asked.
His dimples returned as he flashed a smile. "I know the best spot Signorina." He pushed off in a new direction towards a quiet canal, lined with hanging gardens and ancient churches.
(I am still working on the modifiers...)
Sight in Blindness
Garain circled the world, skipping across oceans and fast fields of grain. She skidded to a halt on a small island in the East, music catching her ear. Smiling, Garain headed towards the music, following a twisting dirt path through thick stands of trees. The trees were tall and thin; having few leaves on them. There were flowers growing everywhere and she could hear a waterfall in the near distance. At last she found a young human man playing a pipe made out of reeds. He was situated in a small wooded area near the waterfall. There was a heavy and heady aroma drifting on the wind.
On silent feet Garain ghosted into the clearing and seated herself of the verdant grass. She listened with wonder at the music that this human man made. It was a slow and gentle song, sweet and poignant. Garain drew the music into her body as if it were air, savoring it.
"Who's there?" the man asked, stopping his music. He looked around with clouded eyes. His voice was almost as sweet as the music had been. The man listened to the world around him.
The man took up his pipe again after a few moments and began to play again. Garain hummed a counterpoint, twining her voice with that of the pipe. The man continued to play, listening to the voice that was like none he had ever heard. At the end of the song he removed the pipe from his lips.
"I see," the man said. "Would it please you to hear more Great One?"
Garain smiled. She would come here again.
On silent feet Garain ghosted into the clearing and seated herself of the verdant grass. She listened with wonder at the music that this human man made. It was a slow and gentle song, sweet and poignant. Garain drew the music into her body as if it were air, savoring it.
"Who's there?" the man asked, stopping his music. He looked around with clouded eyes. His voice was almost as sweet as the music had been. The man listened to the world around him.
The man took up his pipe again after a few moments and began to play again. Garain hummed a counterpoint, twining her voice with that of the pipe. The man continued to play, listening to the voice that was like none he had ever heard. At the end of the song he removed the pipe from his lips.
"I see," the man said. "Would it please you to hear more Great One?"
Garain smiled. She would come here again.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Car Trouble
David's car flew down the highway, the pitch blackness outside making the night a monotonous one. He had gone on auto-pilot hours ago, his only aim was to put miles behind him. He was at mile marker 318 but didn't know or care what state he was in. The only clues to his whereabouts was the heavy scent of pine in the air, the trees were deeper patches of blackness against the night.
The sun was just making a showing on the horizon when David came out of his half trance, noticing his gas light was flashing. David's camero started to stutter and heave. Growling in frustration David pulled off the narrow mountain pass and turned off his car. Fishing his cell phone out of his jacket pocket he glanced at the screen and snapped it closed when it said there was no service. Looking around all David could see were the towering trees above him and a patch of sky high above. The rough asphalt road curved away in either direction, the paint faded and worn. He could hear birds in the trees and the air was pure, like the air in his memories.
David leaned against his car and took another deep breath and exhaled slowly. He hoped that another car would come along, but he didn't hope very hard, he had not passed many people on this old highway; most people preferred to take the interstate.
Shrugging, David started to walk down the highway, hands in the pockets of his jacket, not so much in a hurry anymore. At the moment he was hard pressed to care if he ever got to where he was going. Drawing another deep breath he started to whistle as he walked down the road.
The sun was just making a showing on the horizon when David came out of his half trance, noticing his gas light was flashing. David's camero started to stutter and heave. Growling in frustration David pulled off the narrow mountain pass and turned off his car. Fishing his cell phone out of his jacket pocket he glanced at the screen and snapped it closed when it said there was no service. Looking around all David could see were the towering trees above him and a patch of sky high above. The rough asphalt road curved away in either direction, the paint faded and worn. He could hear birds in the trees and the air was pure, like the air in his memories.
David leaned against his car and took another deep breath and exhaled slowly. He hoped that another car would come along, but he didn't hope very hard, he had not passed many people on this old highway; most people preferred to take the interstate.
Shrugging, David started to walk down the highway, hands in the pockets of his jacket, not so much in a hurry anymore. At the moment he was hard pressed to care if he ever got to where he was going. Drawing another deep breath he started to whistle as he walked down the road.
Pay The Man
They stood on the banks of the river, waiting for the boat to approach. Jason had his hands in his pockets and was whistling a merry tune, seemingly oblivious to the soul-sucking gray-scale into which the world had reverted.
Harry studied the boatman as he approached. The man wore a striped shirt that was patchy at the elbows and dark overalls of some unidentifiable color, darker with spray from the river. He guided the boat with a single long pole, like a gondolier. If the bank and arching cave ceilings weren’t so morbid, Harry might have expected the man to break into La Traviata or something equally operatic.
The boat reached the bank, creaking against the little wooden dock someone had cobbled together with rough-hewn logs and hand-woven rope. Jason didn’t move.
Harry stared at him. The boatman stared at both of them.
Eventually Jason stopped whistling. “Well, pay the man,” he said.
Harry arched one eyebrow. “Pay the man? What for? With what?”
Jason’s smile was enigmatic and utterly maddening. “Check your pockets, lad.”
Harry was quite sure he’d had nothing in his pockets with Jason approached, but he jammed a hand into one of his pockets to appease the man all the same. And his fingers met cool metal. Harry drew out two coins made of some unidentifiable metal, so worn with age the the faces on them were barely human.
Jason said, “Pay the man.”
Harry dropped the coins into the boatman’s outstretched hand, then stepped onto the boat. It wobbled beneath his weight, but then he steadied himself.
Jason didn’t move.
“Aren’t you coming?”
“My journey is not yours,” Jason said. “Be careful when the Styx crosses Lethe. Keep your mouth shut, don’t swallow the spray - wouldn’t want you to be an amnesiac bore before you reach His Infernal Highness, hm?” And he stuck his hands into his pockets and sauntered away, whistling once more.
(323 words)
Harry studied the boatman as he approached. The man wore a striped shirt that was patchy at the elbows and dark overalls of some unidentifiable color, darker with spray from the river. He guided the boat with a single long pole, like a gondolier. If the bank and arching cave ceilings weren’t so morbid, Harry might have expected the man to break into La Traviata or something equally operatic.
The boat reached the bank, creaking against the little wooden dock someone had cobbled together with rough-hewn logs and hand-woven rope. Jason didn’t move.
Harry stared at him. The boatman stared at both of them.
Eventually Jason stopped whistling. “Well, pay the man,” he said.
Harry arched one eyebrow. “Pay the man? What for? With what?”
Jason’s smile was enigmatic and utterly maddening. “Check your pockets, lad.”
Harry was quite sure he’d had nothing in his pockets with Jason approached, but he jammed a hand into one of his pockets to appease the man all the same. And his fingers met cool metal. Harry drew out two coins made of some unidentifiable metal, so worn with age the the faces on them were barely human.
Jason said, “Pay the man.”
Harry dropped the coins into the boatman’s outstretched hand, then stepped onto the boat. It wobbled beneath his weight, but then he steadied himself.
Jason didn’t move.
“Aren’t you coming?”
“My journey is not yours,” Jason said. “Be careful when the Styx crosses Lethe. Keep your mouth shut, don’t swallow the spray - wouldn’t want you to be an amnesiac bore before you reach His Infernal Highness, hm?” And he stuck his hands into his pockets and sauntered away, whistling once more.
(323 words)
Monday, March 30, 2009
Hurtling Through Space on the Millenium Falcon
Daniel was sure he’d been in the ambulance for an eternity. He couldn’t even hear the sirens anymore, his ears had been registering them for so long. The cot wasn’t lumpy beneath his back anymore, and the EMTs no longer looked so red-faced and frantic. That was probably the drugs talking.
Daniel wondered how epic this journey would be, from the street corner to the hospital, to face his colleagues and see the sympathy on their faces when they learned that a surgeon had lost a hand.
The ride was smooth and unhurried, and he thought he could hear the driver laughing, but that might have been a radio DJ or someone he was talking to on the CB. There were too many turns to count, though Daniel suspected that the ambulance was really driving in a maze and in the center they would find a minotaur but he wouldn’t be able to slay it because his sword hand was gone.
Daniel tried to watch the world flash by through the windows, but all he saw were shining lights, rushing cars of indeterminate colors, and the night sky above. It was like hurtling through space on the Millenium Falcon.
And then the ambulance had stopped and the EMTs were red-faced and frantic again, and Daniel thought maybe the medicine was wearing off, because he could feel the burning agony at his wrist where his hand used to be, and then someone said,
“It’s Dr. Thomas.”
Daniel wondered how epic this journey would be, from the street corner to the hospital, to face his colleagues and see the sympathy on their faces when they learned that a surgeon had lost a hand.
The ride was smooth and unhurried, and he thought he could hear the driver laughing, but that might have been a radio DJ or someone he was talking to on the CB. There were too many turns to count, though Daniel suspected that the ambulance was really driving in a maze and in the center they would find a minotaur but he wouldn’t be able to slay it because his sword hand was gone.
Daniel tried to watch the world flash by through the windows, but all he saw were shining lights, rushing cars of indeterminate colors, and the night sky above. It was like hurtling through space on the Millenium Falcon.
And then the ambulance had stopped and the EMTs were red-faced and frantic again, and Daniel thought maybe the medicine was wearing off, because he could feel the burning agony at his wrist where his hand used to be, and then someone said,
“It’s Dr. Thomas.”
Marching to the House
“March,” Angel said.
DJ closed his eyes and bit back a retort. He was on edge enough as it was already, but if that man prodded him in the back with that monk staff one more time, he was going to lose it. Tobias, Keith, and Gabriel had already used up their quota of snappy comments and were sullenly silent.
DJ opened his eyes and cast his gaze across the landscape once more, hoping the internal serenity of his artist’s eye would stop him from picking a fight with a general who was millenia old and knew all the killing techniques in the world.
Not that DJ could be killed.
The path along the mountain was steep and winding, switchbacks to keep walking steady - and possibly torture students who had to walk down to the village for supplies. The valley was verdant and lush, with a silver river snaking its way through the green trees. A few bamboo huts dotted the mountainside, but they were lower down in the shelter of the trees. The further the path went, the more sparse the flora became. At the very top of the mountain loomed the House of Shang. DJ and the others would spend the next five years there becoming proficient in the art of assassination and murder with their bare hands and every weapon imaginable.
DJ had trained in kung fu for almost all his life, but this would be beyond anything the Shao Lin monks had taught him.
The House of Shang was jagged and grey, as if it had grown out of the rock of the mountain itself, and it cast most of the peak and plateau in dark grey shadow. Every step further made DJ feel as though someone had added a pound of lead to his legs. Dirt and gravel had wormed their way into his sandals, and it turned out that immortals could still get blisters. The scent of ginger was overwhelming.
“Can we rest?” Keith asked.
“Do you need to rest?” Angel asked.
“Need? No. Want? Yes.”
“Then keep walking.”
DJ gazed at the graveled path and wondered if it would ever stop, or if they would reach the top.
(365 words)
DJ closed his eyes and bit back a retort. He was on edge enough as it was already, but if that man prodded him in the back with that monk staff one more time, he was going to lose it. Tobias, Keith, and Gabriel had already used up their quota of snappy comments and were sullenly silent.
DJ opened his eyes and cast his gaze across the landscape once more, hoping the internal serenity of his artist’s eye would stop him from picking a fight with a general who was millenia old and knew all the killing techniques in the world.
Not that DJ could be killed.
The path along the mountain was steep and winding, switchbacks to keep walking steady - and possibly torture students who had to walk down to the village for supplies. The valley was verdant and lush, with a silver river snaking its way through the green trees. A few bamboo huts dotted the mountainside, but they were lower down in the shelter of the trees. The further the path went, the more sparse the flora became. At the very top of the mountain loomed the House of Shang. DJ and the others would spend the next five years there becoming proficient in the art of assassination and murder with their bare hands and every weapon imaginable.
DJ had trained in kung fu for almost all his life, but this would be beyond anything the Shao Lin monks had taught him.
The House of Shang was jagged and grey, as if it had grown out of the rock of the mountain itself, and it cast most of the peak and plateau in dark grey shadow. Every step further made DJ feel as though someone had added a pound of lead to his legs. Dirt and gravel had wormed their way into his sandals, and it turned out that immortals could still get blisters. The scent of ginger was overwhelming.
“Can we rest?” Keith asked.
“Do you need to rest?” Angel asked.
“Need? No. Want? Yes.”
“Then keep walking.”
DJ gazed at the graveled path and wondered if it would ever stop, or if they would reach the top.
(365 words)
Project Assignment # 22 - Travels
This week you should take a character on a journey. Either to a place you have been or to a place you want to go or to a place that doesn't even exist. Detail their travels. It can be any character. Describe this place in detail. Let's limit words to 500
Overview # 21 Epistolary
I know that I have been slackerish this week but I hope to do better this next week. The letter writing was interesting. I found that if I don't think about it to hard then dialogue comes more naturally, but if I tired to think about it, everything seemed to stop up in my mind.
Overview #21 - Epistolary
So I think I did all right. Sometimes there was some non-epistolary narration thrown in, but for the most part I did all right. I don't know that I captured the different writers' voices as fully as I'd've liked, but then there was a word restriction, and if I want to improve I should be able to make writing vivid even in a short space. I tried to use different methods of epistolary communication - the dorm-style exchange on the communal whiteboard, text messages, actual letters, notes, and other random things. There are so many reasons why people write to each other, and I tried to think of them all. I was especially proud of the exchange of letters over the kidnapping and possible killing - that was good times. Writing a novel purely in letter form would be wicked hard, though.
Saturday, March 28, 2009
From the Trenches
Dear Ralph,
Shelling like mad today. Thompson succumbed to trench-foot today and medics took him. No advances for a week now. More bodies in no-man’s land. Coffee tastes like mud. Suspect Ensign Haversham making coffee from actual mud. Rations running low. Mustard gas down the line five miles took out 5th Regmt. Still here.
-- Simon
Dear Ralph,
Planes overhead. Shelling. Guns. Rumours of the Red Baron himself. Snowy shot one Jerry plane down. Explosion and flames and cheering. The cold is depressing. Say hello to Mum and Jane for me. Hope all is going well at school. Don’t forget to recite your Latin before bed.
-- Simon
Dear Ralph,
Christmas coming soon. Can imagine the goose getting fat and Mum making Plum pudding. Check bottom left corner from sprig of holly - tuppence always there. More gas this morning. Lost Ensign Haversham. Thompson back in the trenches with us. Can barely walk, but still a damned good shot. Might go over the top soon.
-- Simon
Dear Ralph,
Happy Christmas. Silent today - no shells, no gas, no planes. Just Christmas carols. Learned O Tannenbaum and Still Nacht. Played football in no-man’s land. Drank ale and good German beer. Felt human for the first time in nine months. Pull a Christmas cracker for me.
-- Simon
Dear Ralph,
Coming home tomorrow. Lost a leg and an eye in mortar blast. Will be stationed at St. Augustine’s in Kent. Don’t tell Mum or Jane. Come see me?
-- Simon
Dear Ralph,
Been in Kent for two weeks. No word. Is everything all right?
-- Simon
Dear Ralph,
Three months and still no word. Has something happened to Mum and Jane?
-- Simon
Dear Ralph,
I understand. I won’t be coming home.
-- Simon
Dear Mum,
I love you.
-- Simon
Dear Jane,
Good-bye.
-- Simon
(297 words)
Shelling like mad today. Thompson succumbed to trench-foot today and medics took him. No advances for a week now. More bodies in no-man’s land. Coffee tastes like mud. Suspect Ensign Haversham making coffee from actual mud. Rations running low. Mustard gas down the line five miles took out 5th Regmt. Still here.
-- Simon
Dear Ralph,
Planes overhead. Shelling. Guns. Rumours of the Red Baron himself. Snowy shot one Jerry plane down. Explosion and flames and cheering. The cold is depressing. Say hello to Mum and Jane for me. Hope all is going well at school. Don’t forget to recite your Latin before bed.
-- Simon
Dear Ralph,
Christmas coming soon. Can imagine the goose getting fat and Mum making Plum pudding. Check bottom left corner from sprig of holly - tuppence always there. More gas this morning. Lost Ensign Haversham. Thompson back in the trenches with us. Can barely walk, but still a damned good shot. Might go over the top soon.
-- Simon
Dear Ralph,
Happy Christmas. Silent today - no shells, no gas, no planes. Just Christmas carols. Learned O Tannenbaum and Still Nacht. Played football in no-man’s land. Drank ale and good German beer. Felt human for the first time in nine months. Pull a Christmas cracker for me.
-- Simon
Dear Ralph,
Coming home tomorrow. Lost a leg and an eye in mortar blast. Will be stationed at St. Augustine’s in Kent. Don’t tell Mum or Jane. Come see me?
-- Simon
Dear Ralph,
Been in Kent for two weeks. No word. Is everything all right?
-- Simon
Dear Ralph,
Three months and still no word. Has something happened to Mum and Jane?
-- Simon
Dear Ralph,
I understand. I won’t be coming home.
-- Simon
Dear Mum,
I love you.
-- Simon
Dear Jane,
Good-bye.
-- Simon
(297 words)
Pre-Mission Text Rush
Text log 5.22.00
1-639-555-2212 registered to Chase Joshua Scottsdale
1-254-555-7718 registered to Kash & Manjekstev Web Design Inc.
1-639-555-2212: What does Com. K think?
1-254-555-7718: That UR full of crazy.
1-639-555-2212: Crazy? Why???
1-254-555-7718: b/c U left her a rose.
1-639-555-2212: I was trying to be romantic.
1-254-555-7718: It came off as sappy, IMHO.
1-639-555-2212: Wasn’t sure I’d come back
1-254-555-7718: She wasn’t either.
1-639-555-2212: U pass on my message?
1-254-555-7718: She knows.
1-639-555-2212: And the others?
1-254-555-7718: Will step aside like honorable men.
1-639-555-2212: How will this end?
1-254-555-7718: In death.
1-254-555-7719 registered to Kash & Manjekstev Web Design Inc.
1-254-555-7719: Synch watches. Rendezvous 15. ETA 7.
1-254-555-7718: Casualties?
1-254-555-7719: Suicide. News crews. Be ready to cry.
(177 words)
1-639-555-2212 registered to Chase Joshua Scottsdale
1-254-555-7718 registered to Kash & Manjekstev Web Design Inc.
1-639-555-2212: What does Com. K think?
1-254-555-7718: That UR full of crazy.
1-639-555-2212: Crazy? Why???
1-254-555-7718: b/c U left her a rose.
1-639-555-2212: I was trying to be romantic.
1-254-555-7718: It came off as sappy, IMHO.
1-639-555-2212: Wasn’t sure I’d come back
1-254-555-7718: She wasn’t either.
1-639-555-2212: U pass on my message?
1-254-555-7718: She knows.
1-639-555-2212: And the others?
1-254-555-7718: Will step aside like honorable men.
1-639-555-2212: How will this end?
1-254-555-7718: In death.
1-254-555-7719 registered to Kash & Manjekstev Web Design Inc.
1-254-555-7719: Synch watches. Rendezvous 15. ETA 7.
1-254-555-7718: Casualties?
1-254-555-7719: Suicide. News crews. Be ready to cry.
(177 words)
Thursday, March 26, 2009
D&D Humor
I am looking for you. I don't know where I should start looking. I don't know who you are or what you look like. I don't know what you believe in or your station in life. I just know that I am looking for you. If you find my note leave a response in the hollow of the oak.
-K
I suppose looking anywhere would be a good start. After all, you will never find anything if you don't look for it. I am me. The quintessential self that represents who I am. They say that beauty, such as it is, is in the eye of the Beholder, where as the rest of the party is in the stomach of the Beholder.
-P
I am being serious.
-K
Then you shouldn't ask such ambiguous questions or rather fish for information in that manner. Who knows what you will get as a response.
-p
(Just a silly little thing. It started out serious, but my sarcastic side took over in the response.)
-K
I suppose looking anywhere would be a good start. After all, you will never find anything if you don't look for it. I am me. The quintessential self that represents who I am. They say that beauty, such as it is, is in the eye of the Beholder, where as the rest of the party is in the stomach of the Beholder.
-P
I am being serious.
-K
Then you shouldn't ask such ambiguous questions or rather fish for information in that manner. Who knows what you will get as a response.
-p
(Just a silly little thing. It started out serious, but my sarcastic side took over in the response.)
Keeping Hope
I wish that I could hold you near. I wish that I could see your smiling eyes. I've been wandering blind; hoping to find you, someday. Hearing your voice on the wind, and seeing your kind and gentle smile keeps me moving forward though I am weary and the load is great.
-Jason
Keeping hope, though hope is dim, and wishing to return again is all that I ask for this night. I want to be by your side, and hope that my prayer is heard. I wish I could come home to you again. Keep a candle burning for me to guide me back to you.
-Susan
Love me still though I am gone, and keep my memory clear and strong. Help me to believe I can return, someday to be with you again. Give me strength to carry on even though the road is long. I will find my way back to you.
-Jason
(sorry if the cadence is a bit off, these were originally lyrics that I wrote for an instrumental piece of music, but I thought that they worked well as a conversation.)
-Jason
Keeping hope, though hope is dim, and wishing to return again is all that I ask for this night. I want to be by your side, and hope that my prayer is heard. I wish I could come home to you again. Keep a candle burning for me to guide me back to you.
-Susan
Love me still though I am gone, and keep my memory clear and strong. Help me to believe I can return, someday to be with you again. Give me strength to carry on even though the road is long. I will find my way back to you.
-Jason
(sorry if the cadence is a bit off, these were originally lyrics that I wrote for an instrumental piece of music, but I thought that they worked well as a conversation.)
Letting Go
I would have given anything for you to see me, to see how much I wanted to be with you. I would have done anything to make you stay. I would have made every day full of wonder I would have held you closely each night. I have had to learn the hard way that you can't make someone love you. All the love in the world is useless if it is not returned. I know it doesn't make a difference now, but I love you.
-Sam
I'm sorry I had to hurt you Sam. I hope in time you will understand. It's not that I didn't or don't love you, we just can't be together. I know it is difficult to see, but in my own way I did love you. Please don't try to find me. I have to learn to let go. I hope that you don't hurt for to long.
-Kelly
-Sam
I'm sorry I had to hurt you Sam. I hope in time you will understand. It's not that I didn't or don't love you, we just can't be together. I know it is difficult to see, but in my own way I did love you. Please don't try to find me. I have to learn to let go. I hope that you don't hurt for to long.
-Kelly
Crossed Lines
Annelise,
It’s better for everyone if I’m gone. There’s been enough trouble, and my staying here will only cause more. I don’t care what anyone says - I love you, and I’ll never stop loving you. What we have together is right, and don’t let anyone tell you differently. Your daddy says I’m just a layabout, but I have money saved up to go to school, and in a few years I’ll own my own garage and make real money. We can have a home and a family and everything you ever dreamed. If you still want to be with me, take the ticket and I’ll meet you at the airport in Atlanta.
Love you always,
Kevin
Dear Kevin,
I don’t know what I did to make you hate me. Why didn’t you tell me you left? I don’t know where you are, or if this letter will even find you. It’s been six months and I haven’t heard a word. I’m sorry if I did anything wrong. Your son will be along any day now. I’m gonna name him Kevin James, after you.
I love you.
Annelise
Annelise,
I just got your letter today. It’s six years too late. When I called your mama’s house she told me you got married last week. I hope you’re happy. I waited at the airport for two days - I thought maybe your plane had been delayed, but you never came. I have my own shop now, and business is doing pretty good, and there’s no one in my heart but you.
Love you always,
Kevin.
Mr. Shaw,
Cease your communication with my daughter immediately. She’s moved on since you left her like you did, and you have no right to turn her life upside down now.
Mrs. Hamilton
Dear Mama,
I found the letter you hid from me the day Kevin left. I love Carl and I won’t leave him, but what you did was wrong. Kevin will know his son. I hope you enjoyed what time you had with your grandson.
Annelise
(340 words)
It’s better for everyone if I’m gone. There’s been enough trouble, and my staying here will only cause more. I don’t care what anyone says - I love you, and I’ll never stop loving you. What we have together is right, and don’t let anyone tell you differently. Your daddy says I’m just a layabout, but I have money saved up to go to school, and in a few years I’ll own my own garage and make real money. We can have a home and a family and everything you ever dreamed. If you still want to be with me, take the ticket and I’ll meet you at the airport in Atlanta.
Love you always,
Kevin
Dear Kevin,
I don’t know what I did to make you hate me. Why didn’t you tell me you left? I don’t know where you are, or if this letter will even find you. It’s been six months and I haven’t heard a word. I’m sorry if I did anything wrong. Your son will be along any day now. I’m gonna name him Kevin James, after you.
I love you.
Annelise
Annelise,
I just got your letter today. It’s six years too late. When I called your mama’s house she told me you got married last week. I hope you’re happy. I waited at the airport for two days - I thought maybe your plane had been delayed, but you never came. I have my own shop now, and business is doing pretty good, and there’s no one in my heart but you.
Love you always,
Kevin.
Mr. Shaw,
Cease your communication with my daughter immediately. She’s moved on since you left her like you did, and you have no right to turn her life upside down now.
Mrs. Hamilton
Dear Mama,
I found the letter you hid from me the day Kevin left. I love Carl and I won’t leave him, but what you did was wrong. Kevin will know his son. I hope you enjoyed what time you had with your grandson.
Annelise
(340 words)
Bill, Amy and Steve
The police found two notes in the house, the first behind a desk where it had fallen, the second pinned to the kitchen door by a bloody knife.
Amy,
I’m going out tonight to take care of this once and for all. I’ll call when it’s done and I’m on my way back. No matter what happens, don’t answer the door. There’s a loaded shotgun in the pantry and a case of shells. I love you.
Bill
Bill --
I have Amy. She looks so pretty in red.
-- Steve
A third note was pasted to Steve’s door with dried blood.
(120 words)
Steve,
Amy knows shoshu kung fu, but you’ve probably figured that out by now. I know where your mother lives.
Bill
Amy,
I’m going out tonight to take care of this once and for all. I’ll call when it’s done and I’m on my way back. No matter what happens, don’t answer the door. There’s a loaded shotgun in the pantry and a case of shells. I love you.
Bill
Bill --
I have Amy. She looks so pretty in red.
-- Steve
A third note was pasted to Steve’s door with dried blood.
(120 words)
Steve,
Amy knows shoshu kung fu, but you’ve probably figured that out by now. I know where your mother lives.
Bill
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
The Last Word
Dear Shelley,
Thank you for
You’ve been great about
I wish I could tell you
It’ll be all right. You did everything you could for me, you made my last months wonderful, and I know you loved me. Tell my brothers not to cry, that I’ll be with them in spirit and in music, and that everything will be all right. Don’t let Dad blame himself. Everything I’ve done has been my own choice, from the first time I opened my mouth to sing to the first time I picked up drumsticks to the last time I took my bows hand-in-hand with the others.
Take care.
Love,
Bob
Bob --
Don’t forget to take your meds today. Oncologist appt. tomorrow.
-- Shelley
(122 words)
It’ll be all right. You did everything you could for me, you made my last months wonderful, and I know you loved me. Tell my brothers not to cry, that I’ll be with them in spirit and in music, and that everything will be all right. Don’t let Dad blame himself. Everything I’ve done has been my own choice, from the first time I opened my mouth to sing to the first time I picked up drumsticks to the last time I took my bows hand-in-hand with the others.
Take care.
Love,
Bob
Bob --
Don’t forget to take your meds today. Oncologist appt. tomorrow.
-- Shelley
(122 words)
Monday, March 23, 2009
Told you I Could
What happened? Didn't I tell you not to do it? So what did she say?
-Matt
Wouldn't you like to know. :) I told you that I would do it. You never believe that I will. Someday I'm going to really shock you.
-Ben
It would be a shock to me if you got her to agree to it.
-Matt
Oh ye of little faith.
-Ben
Well, I'll believe it when I see it.
-Matt
Seeing isn't believing.
-Ben
What is with the quotes? What did she say? Did she agree to it?
-Matt
If you don't want to believe me then fine, but you might want to open your front door.
-Ben
Yeah right. All right. But I still don't believe you.
-Matt
...
-Ben
Holy Shit...
-Matt
I told you I could get her to dress up as a bunny for Easter.
-Ben
-Matt
Wouldn't you like to know. :) I told you that I would do it. You never believe that I will. Someday I'm going to really shock you.
-Ben
It would be a shock to me if you got her to agree to it.
-Matt
Oh ye of little faith.
-Ben
Well, I'll believe it when I see it.
-Matt
Seeing isn't believing.
-Ben
What is with the quotes? What did she say? Did she agree to it?
-Matt
If you don't want to believe me then fine, but you might want to open your front door.
-Ben
Yeah right. All right. But I still don't believe you.
-Matt
...
-Ben
Holy Shit...
-Matt
I told you I could get her to dress up as a bunny for Easter.
-Ben
Refrigerator Chatter
Someone had scrawled notes on the whiteboard tacked to the fridge, the one on which to list requests for the next trip to the grocery store.
I cannot kill the zombie in the castle on lvl. 13. Help?
You need the sword of Astaroth from the weapons dealer in the dungeons.
Beneath that note, someone had drawn an overly large sword.
I cannot buy the sword - missing component parts.
Forget the sword and use the Spear of Longinus. More XP that way.
If you equip the manticore soul and stab it with the tail you won’t even have to get near it.
And beneath this note, a series of squiggles that may or may not have resembled a manticore tail.
The answer is simple - use a jump-x attack and keep hacking with whatever you’ve got. Equip the ghoul soul so you can eat rotten mean to recover HP. Don’t forget the L2 back-slide dodge.
The author of this note had signed with a smiley face - a smiley face with fangs.
The very last note was the best.
We’re out of TP.
(183 words - I seriously saw an exchange just like this on a fridge whiteboard. Admittedly, the apartment belonged to boys.)
I cannot kill the zombie in the castle on lvl. 13. Help?
You need the sword of Astaroth from the weapons dealer in the dungeons.
Beneath that note, someone had drawn an overly large sword.
I cannot buy the sword - missing component parts.
Forget the sword and use the Spear of Longinus. More XP that way.
If you equip the manticore soul and stab it with the tail you won’t even have to get near it.
And beneath this note, a series of squiggles that may or may not have resembled a manticore tail.
The answer is simple - use a jump-x attack and keep hacking with whatever you’ve got. Equip the ghoul soul so you can eat rotten mean to recover HP. Don’t forget the L2 back-slide dodge.
The author of this note had signed with a smiley face - a smiley face with fangs.
The very last note was the best.
We’re out of TP.
(183 words - I seriously saw an exchange just like this on a fridge whiteboard. Admittedly, the apartment belonged to boys.)
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Race to the Ground
Gone for a run
-Carly
Had to go to class, there is food in the fridge.
-Beth
Sorry to miss you again. The food was delicious, thank you.
-C
You know, it's strange we are room mates and never see each other.
-B
I know, we don't even have the same sleeping schedule. Do you need me to pick up anything at the store while I am there?
-C
Nope, I'm good. But if any chocolate jumps in your cart don't fight it off, I'll pay you back.
-B
Want to hang out on Saturday? I know you don't have anything going on.
-C
Sure, what do you have in mind?
-B
How about skydiving?
-C
Perfect! I'll race you to the ground!
-B
(124)
-Carly
Had to go to class, there is food in the fridge.
-Beth
Sorry to miss you again. The food was delicious, thank you.
-C
You know, it's strange we are room mates and never see each other.
-B
I know, we don't even have the same sleeping schedule. Do you need me to pick up anything at the store while I am there?
-C
Nope, I'm good. But if any chocolate jumps in your cart don't fight it off, I'll pay you back.
-B
Want to hang out on Saturday? I know you don't have anything going on.
-C
Sure, what do you have in mind?
-B
How about skydiving?
-C
Perfect! I'll race you to the ground!
-B
(124)
Fidelity
What’s his name?
- Lyle
Scott. The house is mine.
- Jen
My name is on the deed, not yours. Does he kiss better than me?
- Lyle
He does many things better than you. Both our names were on the deed.
- Jen
You were busy that day so I closed on my own and used my own money, so the only name on the thing is mine. So the house is mine. You have somewhere to move into, anyway. I don’t. Leave your key.
- Lyle
Here’s your damned key. You have no right to be bitter.
- Jen
I had every right to want your fidelity.
(103 words)
- Lyle
Scott. The house is mine.
- Jen
My name is on the deed, not yours. Does he kiss better than me?
- Lyle
He does many things better than you. Both our names were on the deed.
- Jen
You were busy that day so I closed on my own and used my own money, so the only name on the thing is mine. So the house is mine. You have somewhere to move into, anyway. I don’t. Leave your key.
- Lyle
Here’s your damned key. You have no right to be bitter.
- Jen
I had every right to want your fidelity.
(103 words)
Project #21: Epistolary
This week give yourself no more than 500 words, no less than 100, of people sending each other letters, leaving each other notes, sending each other emails, or sending text messages. It'll be all right to use some limited online abbreviations (LOL, BTW, IMO) but no kewl-speak or heavy text-speak. Do your best to offer distinct voices.
Overview #18, 19, 20 - All Apologies
Wow, I totally fail at my own rules! Good thing there are no punishments.
The expansion was fun, but I sorta got nailed with writers' block and school midway through. I have no guilt about starting something I don't intend to finish and playing with the characters randomly along the way. The practice in expanding plot was helpful, though.
The object lesson was something I've been meaning to do for a while. I need to learn to observe things from life and get detailed. Getting that detailed in an actual novel is tedious and obnoxious, but learning to spot the fun details and hold onto them, sort out what works and what doesn't, is a good skill for prose or poetry.
A free-write was actually a good way for me to get some creative juices going, mostly in the Dagaz-verse. I need to get to know my boys all over again.
The expansion was fun, but I sorta got nailed with writers' block and school midway through. I have no guilt about starting something I don't intend to finish and playing with the characters randomly along the way. The practice in expanding plot was helpful, though.
The object lesson was something I've been meaning to do for a while. I need to learn to observe things from life and get detailed. Getting that detailed in an actual novel is tedious and obnoxious, but learning to spot the fun details and hold onto them, sort out what works and what doesn't, is a good skill for prose or poetry.
A free-write was actually a good way for me to get some creative juices going, mostly in the Dagaz-verse. I need to get to know my boys all over again.
Neither Have You
"Does your bodyguard know where you are?" Asia asked.
Chase played a jazz riff absently, long fingers dancing on the keys. "I don't need a bodyguard. JC does, but right now I'm not him."
"Tell that to the hundreds of girls outside who want to fling themselves at our feet and worship at your altar." Asia perched on the piano bench beside him and watched him play.
"Not one noticed me as I headed down here. I didn't make it to commander because I'm oblivious." He hummed a gently counter-melody; his talent really was wasted on this bubblegum pop.
Asia smiled faintly. "Congratulations."
Chase's smile was equally faint. "Thanks. I noticed you, by the way."
"Coming to the restaurant? I wasn't trying to hide it."
"At the orphanage. En Paris. Vous avez été une fille pour ma classe, oui? Quand j'ai eu huit ans. I don't forge faces easily, but at first it was easy to pretend coincidence."
It was bad when he reverted to French.
She said, "You have an excellent memory."
"Your name was Amélie, then."
"I've used many names."
"You haven't aged a day."
She reached up and brushed a lock of hair out of his eyes. "In some ways, neither have you."
(203 words)
Chase played a jazz riff absently, long fingers dancing on the keys. "I don't need a bodyguard. JC does, but right now I'm not him."
"Tell that to the hundreds of girls outside who want to fling themselves at our feet and worship at your altar." Asia perched on the piano bench beside him and watched him play.
"Not one noticed me as I headed down here. I didn't make it to commander because I'm oblivious." He hummed a gently counter-melody; his talent really was wasted on this bubblegum pop.
Asia smiled faintly. "Congratulations."
Chase's smile was equally faint. "Thanks. I noticed you, by the way."
"Coming to the restaurant? I wasn't trying to hide it."
"At the orphanage. En Paris. Vous avez été une fille pour ma classe, oui? Quand j'ai eu huit ans. I don't forge faces easily, but at first it was easy to pretend coincidence."
It was bad when he reverted to French.
She said, "You have an excellent memory."
"Your name was Amélie, then."
"I've used many names."
"You haven't aged a day."
She reached up and brushed a lock of hair out of his eyes. "In some ways, neither have you."
(203 words)
Saturday, March 21, 2009
A Quiet Moment to Self
David lay underneath his car, a classic black Camero. It was a bright spring morning, the sun was high and the breeze was fresh off of the river that ran nearby, it was the perfect day to be puttering with his car. David thought fondly back on his father, the car had belonged to him. A radio lay near the car playing a classic rock station.
David scooted out from under the car after having finished his work, his shirt was greasy and stained black in places. He leaned over and picked up a red cloth and wiped his hands on it. Dropping the hood into place, he reached in the window and turned the ignition, the car roared to life and settled into a seductive rumble. A smile spread across David's handsome features and he slid into the drivers seat.
Shifting the car into gear, David followed the old dirt road along the river.
David scooted out from under the car after having finished his work, his shirt was greasy and stained black in places. He leaned over and picked up a red cloth and wiped his hands on it. Dropping the hood into place, he reached in the window and turned the ignition, the car roared to life and settled into a seductive rumble. A smile spread across David's handsome features and he slid into the drivers seat.
Shifting the car into gear, David followed the old dirt road along the river.
Friday, March 20, 2009
David squeezed the trigger, the gun spitting silently in the night, smoke rising almost lazily from the barrel. The figure at the far end of the block jerked and crumpled to the ground.
David lowered his gun slowly to his side; he did not hurry away from the scene, he did not skulk or even walk fast. David approached the cooling body on the pavement and looked down at the once vibrant face of the woman. He told himself that it didn't matter, that she was a traitor, that he was just doing his job. He wondered however, why the gun felt so heavy at his side.
David lowered his gun slowly to his side; he did not hurry away from the scene, he did not skulk or even walk fast. David approached the cooling body on the pavement and looked down at the once vibrant face of the woman. He told himself that it didn't matter, that she was a traitor, that he was just doing his job. He wondered however, why the gun felt so heavy at his side.
Jump In, Let's Go
"This is starting to turn into a routine," Asia said.
Bob started violently and almost dropped the cymbal stand he was carrying. "How the hell did you get past security?"
Asia laughed and steadied the cymbal stand in his hands. "I've been inside security all night."
Bob shifted uncomfortably under her gaze. "That's pretty ninja of you."
"Hardly, seeing how my brothers and I opened for the Acid Crashers in the smaller show room." Her smile was amused. "Not used to seeing the same girl two nights in a row, I see."
Bob ran a hand through his hair. "I don't mean to be --"
"What, a musician?" Asia stepped closer. "I'm a musician too, remember. At least I know that you have good hands."
Bob eyed her, considering. "All right. You're on."
Asia's grin was fierce. "Baby, I'm always on." She tugged open the luggage compartment door so Bob could stow the cymbal stand.
He darted a glance over his shoulder, checking for his brothers. Then he stowed the last of his drum set and shut the luggage hatch. "C'mon - the others are out drinking with the roadies. We have a couple of hours before they get back." He pulled open the door and climbed onto the bus.
Asia stood at the bottom of the steps, bemused. "What, no 'jump in, let's go, sit back, enjoy the show'?"
Bob blushed. "Are you trying to make the roadies think I'm wenching every night?"
"Would you rather they think you're a civilian informant for an international underground paramilitary organization?"
Bob sighed. "All right." He gestured for her to enter. "Jump in, let's go..."
Bob started violently and almost dropped the cymbal stand he was carrying. "How the hell did you get past security?"
Asia laughed and steadied the cymbal stand in his hands. "I've been inside security all night."
Bob shifted uncomfortably under her gaze. "That's pretty ninja of you."
"Hardly, seeing how my brothers and I opened for the Acid Crashers in the smaller show room." Her smile was amused. "Not used to seeing the same girl two nights in a row, I see."
Bob ran a hand through his hair. "I don't mean to be --"
"What, a musician?" Asia stepped closer. "I'm a musician too, remember. At least I know that you have good hands."
Bob eyed her, considering. "All right. You're on."
Asia's grin was fierce. "Baby, I'm always on." She tugged open the luggage compartment door so Bob could stow the cymbal stand.
He darted a glance over his shoulder, checking for his brothers. Then he stowed the last of his drum set and shut the luggage hatch. "C'mon - the others are out drinking with the roadies. We have a couple of hours before they get back." He pulled open the door and climbed onto the bus.
Asia stood at the bottom of the steps, bemused. "What, no 'jump in, let's go, sit back, enjoy the show'?"
Bob blushed. "Are you trying to make the roadies think I'm wenching every night?"
"Would you rather they think you're a civilian informant for an international underground paramilitary organization?"
Bob sighed. "All right." He gestured for her to enter. "Jump in, let's go..."
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Helping Hand
It had to have been near 12 hundred when David paused on his way to his quarters. He was near the large multi-purpose room that served all functions when he heard sounds coming from the dim room. Poking his head in he saw Joe. David leaned against the door frame for a few minutes watching the young man. It looked like he was practicing on the fighting moves that they had worked on this afternoon.
"Joe, what are you doing?" David asked, shouldering his way away from the door.
Joe spun around and snapped off a sharp salute. "Practicing sir."
"At ease Joe," David said, entering the room fully. Joe relaxed a little, wiping sweat from his brow.
"It usually helps if you have another person to practice with."
"Everyone else is busy sir."
"Your form could use some work Joe."
"Yes sir." Joe looked down a little.
"I am not busy, so let's see what we can do about your form."
"Yes Sir!" Joe said enthusiastically.
David guided Joe through the motions of the attacks, gentle in his corrections and advice.
"Joe, what are you doing?" David asked, shouldering his way away from the door.
Joe spun around and snapped off a sharp salute. "Practicing sir."
"At ease Joe," David said, entering the room fully. Joe relaxed a little, wiping sweat from his brow.
"It usually helps if you have another person to practice with."
"Everyone else is busy sir."
"Your form could use some work Joe."
"Yes sir." Joe looked down a little.
"I am not busy, so let's see what we can do about your form."
"Yes Sir!" Joe said enthusiastically.
David guided Joe through the motions of the attacks, gentle in his corrections and advice.
Fifteen Minutes
"You look - panicked." Asia looked up from her laptop.
The young man who stood over her was panicked indeed, hair and clothes disheveled as if he'd run through a human gauntlet.
"Please," he gasped, breathless, "you have to hide me!"
Asia raised her eyebrows. "Are you a criminal?"
"No!"
Asia was on her feet. She tossed Keith's old army coat across his shoulders, tugged Gabriel's baseball cap over his hair, and then dragged him down to sit beside her on the couch. She dropped an open VisualBasic textbook on his lap. She said, "Look studious."
He obeyed. It worked, because half a dozen teenage girls burst into the café, alert and tense like bloodhounds on the scent, but they didn't find what they were looking for. One of them hurried over to Asia's table.
"Have you seen Jesse Carlisle?" the girl asked.
He kept his head down.
Asia arched an eyebrow. "In person?"
"He came this way."
"Then he'd still be this way."
The girl tossed her head impatiently, then sneered at the coding textbook. "You're a nerd."
"And you're blind," Asia returned sweetly.
One of the other girls beckoned. "He's not here. Let's go!"
Asia watched them scamper away. Then she turned to the young man beside her.
"Give them fifteen minutes, Jesse Carlisle, and they shall tire of searching for you."
(224 words)
The young man who stood over her was panicked indeed, hair and clothes disheveled as if he'd run through a human gauntlet.
"Please," he gasped, breathless, "you have to hide me!"
Asia raised her eyebrows. "Are you a criminal?"
"No!"
Asia was on her feet. She tossed Keith's old army coat across his shoulders, tugged Gabriel's baseball cap over his hair, and then dragged him down to sit beside her on the couch. She dropped an open VisualBasic textbook on his lap. She said, "Look studious."
He obeyed. It worked, because half a dozen teenage girls burst into the café, alert and tense like bloodhounds on the scent, but they didn't find what they were looking for. One of them hurried over to Asia's table.
"Have you seen Jesse Carlisle?" the girl asked.
He kept his head down.
Asia arched an eyebrow. "In person?"
"He came this way."
"Then he'd still be this way."
The girl tossed her head impatiently, then sneered at the coding textbook. "You're a nerd."
"And you're blind," Asia returned sweetly.
One of the other girls beckoned. "He's not here. Let's go!"
Asia watched them scamper away. Then she turned to the young man beside her.
"Give them fifteen minutes, Jesse Carlisle, and they shall tire of searching for you."
(224 words)
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Pranks
Mark and Brian were huddled in the far corner of their barrack room, just out of sight of the door.
"Shh, you'll wake up Joe." Mark said, elbowing his twin in the side.
Brian stifled his snickers as best he could. his eyes darting back to the bucket of water that was perched precariously on top of the door. Mark had thought that this prank was a little to unsophisticated for them, but Brian had insisted. "It's a classic," he said as he filled the bucket. They knew that Steve would be back soon.
"Shh," Mark said again as they heard the faint footfalls in the corridor. They heard the creak of the door being opened and the clatter and splash as the bucket hit the ground. The yell of surprise however did not sound like Steve.
Brian peeked around he bed and saw a very wet Commander Cole.
David was brushing his wet hair out of his eyes and looking around the room, his gaze finally fell on Brian and Mark.
"Uh oh," Mark said.
"Uh oh is right," David said, advancing on the two soldiers.
"Shh, you'll wake up Joe." Mark said, elbowing his twin in the side.
Brian stifled his snickers as best he could. his eyes darting back to the bucket of water that was perched precariously on top of the door. Mark had thought that this prank was a little to unsophisticated for them, but Brian had insisted. "It's a classic," he said as he filled the bucket. They knew that Steve would be back soon.
"Shh," Mark said again as they heard the faint footfalls in the corridor. They heard the creak of the door being opened and the clatter and splash as the bucket hit the ground. The yell of surprise however did not sound like Steve.
Brian peeked around he bed and saw a very wet Commander Cole.
David was brushing his wet hair out of his eyes and looking around the room, his gaze finally fell on Brian and Mark.
"Uh oh," Mark said.
"Uh oh is right," David said, advancing on the two soldiers.
Reclaiming Phillia
"When to the sessions of sweet silent thought --"
"Your thoughts are hardly quiet." Gabriel tuned his guitar absently.
Keith's brow furrowed. "Why do you always hate me?"
"My Fender Strat - the first genuinely nice guitar I owned - is charred scraps and you have to ask?"
Keith was curled up on his favorite gaming chair, poking through Tobias's copy of the Riverside Shakespeare. "It was an accident."
"Don't be so petulant."
"It was an accident."
"Then I accidentally hate you." Gabriel strummed an easy jazz riff.
Keith's eyes slide closed; the music was soothing.
Gabriel said, "I don't hate you."
"You lie."
"We kill with each other, for each other. We're brothers-in-arms, comrades-in-war. I wouldn't sacrifice myself for you if I hated you." Gabriel's hands on the guitar stilled.
Keith opened his eyes. "I know." Then he closed the book and said, "You read Tobias's dissertation on reclaiming phillia, didn't you?"
Gabriel shrugged. "Maybe."
"Just checking."
(159 words)
"Your thoughts are hardly quiet." Gabriel tuned his guitar absently.
Keith's brow furrowed. "Why do you always hate me?"
"My Fender Strat - the first genuinely nice guitar I owned - is charred scraps and you have to ask?"
Keith was curled up on his favorite gaming chair, poking through Tobias's copy of the Riverside Shakespeare. "It was an accident."
"Don't be so petulant."
"It was an accident."
"Then I accidentally hate you." Gabriel strummed an easy jazz riff.
Keith's eyes slide closed; the music was soothing.
Gabriel said, "I don't hate you."
"You lie."
"We kill with each other, for each other. We're brothers-in-arms, comrades-in-war. I wouldn't sacrifice myself for you if I hated you." Gabriel's hands on the guitar stilled.
Keith opened his eyes. "I know." Then he closed the book and said, "You read Tobias's dissertation on reclaiming phillia, didn't you?"
Gabriel shrugged. "Maybe."
"Just checking."
(159 words)
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Training
David was flat on his back again, his opponent disarming him with amazing speed. All around him were other pairs sparring in the large room that was practically the hub of his world now. It was here that he learned how to fight, how to shoot, how to disarm and build bombs. It was here that his path to revenge was taking shape.
"On your feet Dave," James said from above him.
David arched his back and flipped onto his feet, falling into a fighters stance.
"You moved to soon again," James said, demonstrating the move again. "It is all about knowing how and when to strike. Speed is not so important at this point, it will come in time with the muscle memory. Now, try it again."
James was one of David's frequent sparring partners, and the closest person he had to a friend. James had taken care to show David the ropes, helped in his training.
David flowed through the movements again, waiting until he thought the time was right to strike. David suddenly jerked his arm forward, grazing James across the jaw. David grinned, but suddenly found himself on the floor again.
"Never lose focus."
"On your feet Dave," James said from above him.
David arched his back and flipped onto his feet, falling into a fighters stance.
"You moved to soon again," James said, demonstrating the move again. "It is all about knowing how and when to strike. Speed is not so important at this point, it will come in time with the muscle memory. Now, try it again."
James was one of David's frequent sparring partners, and the closest person he had to a friend. James had taken care to show David the ropes, helped in his training.
David flowed through the movements again, waiting until he thought the time was right to strike. David suddenly jerked his arm forward, grazing James across the jaw. David grinned, but suddenly found himself on the floor again.
"Never lose focus."
Blue Blazers on a Tuesday
“Bottoms up!” Keith cried, and tipped his tankard back. Green beer spilled down his chin and the front of his shirt; Asia was going to put him on laundry detail for a month if he didn’t get cleaned up before he went home.
“Haven’t you had enough for the night?” Tobias asked. Gabriel was sipping spiced mead that Christian had managed to sneak into the bar.
“There’s never enough alcohol in an Irishman on St. Paddy’s Day!” Keith poured himself a shot of Glenlivet and, to the onlookers’ delight, dug a lighter out of his pocket and set the drink on fire. And then drank it. The already-inebriated onlookers cheered, and someone poured Keith another shot. He’d had enough alcohol to the head in a short enough time - immortal bodies burned through the stuff impossibly fast to really get drunk - that he was high on the energy of the crowd, so this time around he waved a hand over the shot glass, and with a magician-like flourish of his hand, set the drink ablaze. With his gift. Across the bar, Angel’s eyes narrowed with fury, but Keith drank the shot and there was more cheering.
The skinny young man perched on a bar stool beside Tobias winced and ducked his head at the sound.
“The irony of all this,” he said, “is that St. Patrick himself was Scottish.”
“I was thinking the same thing.” Tobias nodded toward the man’s glass of green beer. “You don’t seem too into the spirit of the holiday.”
“Not Catholic,” the man said.
“Never stopped anyone before,” Tobias said.
“True.” The man eyed his glass, shrugged, and drank. Then he shuddered.
And then Gabriel was up on the bar, mandolin in hand. “Who wants to hear some Flogging Molly?”
(296 words)
“Haven’t you had enough for the night?” Tobias asked. Gabriel was sipping spiced mead that Christian had managed to sneak into the bar.
“There’s never enough alcohol in an Irishman on St. Paddy’s Day!” Keith poured himself a shot of Glenlivet and, to the onlookers’ delight, dug a lighter out of his pocket and set the drink on fire. And then drank it. The already-inebriated onlookers cheered, and someone poured Keith another shot. He’d had enough alcohol to the head in a short enough time - immortal bodies burned through the stuff impossibly fast to really get drunk - that he was high on the energy of the crowd, so this time around he waved a hand over the shot glass, and with a magician-like flourish of his hand, set the drink ablaze. With his gift. Across the bar, Angel’s eyes narrowed with fury, but Keith drank the shot and there was more cheering.
The skinny young man perched on a bar stool beside Tobias winced and ducked his head at the sound.
“The irony of all this,” he said, “is that St. Patrick himself was Scottish.”
“I was thinking the same thing.” Tobias nodded toward the man’s glass of green beer. “You don’t seem too into the spirit of the holiday.”
“Not Catholic,” the man said.
“Never stopped anyone before,” Tobias said.
“True.” The man eyed his glass, shrugged, and drank. Then he shuddered.
And then Gabriel was up on the bar, mandolin in hand. “Who wants to hear some Flogging Molly?”
(296 words)
Monday, March 16, 2009
Another Beginning
David jerked awake at the klaxon call of 0500. Bleary eyed he stumbled out of bed and grabbed for his uniform pants. He growled in frustration when he realized, a few futile moments later, that he was trying to pull them on over his shoes. Hopping around he tried to get them off again when he over corrected and fell over. The cement floor of the barracks was ice cold against his bare back.
"Here," a voice said from above. David squinted, trying to make out the figure above him, the halogen lights above making it difficult. David focused and grabbed a hand that was offered to him, he was quickly hoisted to his feet.
A smiling face greeted him when he was able to pry his eyes open all the way. Bright green eyes set in a friendly face, the man's blond hair buzzed close to his head.
"The first week is the hardest." The man said laughing. "Well actually the second and third weeks are the toughest, but at that point you're either committed or you're not."
David smiled wryly, "Where else would I go?"
The man grinned broadly, "Me too. Hey I'm James," he held out his hand again, this time in greeting.
"I'm David." David said, accepting the hand again.
"Better hurry up, the commanders will be in in a few minutes to inspect us." James stood up and stepped a few feet away to his own cot and made the bed. He pulled a quarter out of his pocket and bounced it off the bed after he was done.
The inspection was mercifully brief, though David did have a strike against him for not having his cot made up proper. He vowed to have it right the next day.
"Come on," James said, throwing an arm around David's shoulder, "let's go get some food."
"Here," a voice said from above. David squinted, trying to make out the figure above him, the halogen lights above making it difficult. David focused and grabbed a hand that was offered to him, he was quickly hoisted to his feet.
A smiling face greeted him when he was able to pry his eyes open all the way. Bright green eyes set in a friendly face, the man's blond hair buzzed close to his head.
"The first week is the hardest." The man said laughing. "Well actually the second and third weeks are the toughest, but at that point you're either committed or you're not."
David smiled wryly, "Where else would I go?"
The man grinned broadly, "Me too. Hey I'm James," he held out his hand again, this time in greeting.
"I'm David." David said, accepting the hand again.
"Better hurry up, the commanders will be in in a few minutes to inspect us." James stood up and stepped a few feet away to his own cot and made the bed. He pulled a quarter out of his pocket and bounced it off the bed after he was done.
The inspection was mercifully brief, though David did have a strike against him for not having his cot made up proper. He vowed to have it right the next day.
"Come on," James said, throwing an arm around David's shoulder, "let's go get some food."
Nectar and Rotten Fruit
Christian scowled. “Stop laughing.”
Tobias at least had the good manners to hide his laughter behind one hand. Angel had managed to school his expression into one of faint amusement. DJ was armed with a camera and clicking away with the detached studiousness of an artiste. Keith, by sharp contrast, had his hands on his knees and was laughing uproariously. The sound didn’t disturb the butterflies one bit, for they were content to form a comical halo around Christian’s head.
Gabriel said, “So the lovely flutter-bys know a Quislai when they see one.”
Keith could barely speak for his giggling. “Look! Butterflies on the f-f-faerie!”
“Sh!” Tobias hissed, but he was giggling too.
“Stop scowling, Christian - you’re ruining a perfectly good shot,” DJ said.
A little girl jabbed a finger in Christian’s direction. “Look, mommy, the butterflies are in love!”
The entire procession of tourists in the butterfly biodome had screeched to a halt when the butterflies descended en masse to gather around Christian, perched on strawberry-blond curls and fluttering around his ears.
At ‘in love’, Keith only laughed louder.
I’m an assassin, dammit! Christian snarled. This is an indignity!
Let it go, Gabriel said, and keep walking. The zoo staff will rescue you at the door.
The butterflies followed Christian all the way along the biodome path. The zoo worker opened her mouth to start the usual spiel about ‘hitchhikers’, and then her eyes went wide.
Keith said, blithe as can be, “I guess he smells like flower nectar.”
Tobias added, “Or rotten fruit.”
(259 words)
Tobias at least had the good manners to hide his laughter behind one hand. Angel had managed to school his expression into one of faint amusement. DJ was armed with a camera and clicking away with the detached studiousness of an artiste. Keith, by sharp contrast, had his hands on his knees and was laughing uproariously. The sound didn’t disturb the butterflies one bit, for they were content to form a comical halo around Christian’s head.
Gabriel said, “So the lovely flutter-bys know a Quislai when they see one.”
Keith could barely speak for his giggling. “Look! Butterflies on the f-f-faerie!”
“Sh!” Tobias hissed, but he was giggling too.
“Stop scowling, Christian - you’re ruining a perfectly good shot,” DJ said.
A little girl jabbed a finger in Christian’s direction. “Look, mommy, the butterflies are in love!”
The entire procession of tourists in the butterfly biodome had screeched to a halt when the butterflies descended en masse to gather around Christian, perched on strawberry-blond curls and fluttering around his ears.
At ‘in love’, Keith only laughed louder.
I’m an assassin, dammit! Christian snarled. This is an indignity!
Let it go, Gabriel said, and keep walking. The zoo staff will rescue you at the door.
The butterflies followed Christian all the way along the biodome path. The zoo worker opened her mouth to start the usual spiel about ‘hitchhikers’, and then her eyes went wide.
Keith said, blithe as can be, “I guess he smells like flower nectar.”
Tobias added, “Or rotten fruit.”
(259 words)
Project #20: Open Challenge
Sorry I disappeared for a few days. This week is open writing. let's keep it to 300 words.
Saturday, March 14, 2009
Writing Jar
It was clear with an appliquéd pattern, yellow daisies and bright flowers and an assortment of Easter cheer. Someone had stuffed it full of writing tools - sparkly pens, swirly pens, old-fashioned pencils made operable with a sharpener, cheap ball-point pens, and some worn-out highlighters from someone’s ardent studying. It was perched precariously close to the edge of the table, ready to topple with a single mis-pulled pen. Some of the pencils poked high above the pens, unsharpened and taller for it. Someone had shoved a receipt down the side of the jar as well, and the barcode was distorted beneath the pattern of the leaves. The jar would either fall - or someone responsible would push it back.
Friday, March 13, 2009
Papyrus
If it was ancient, its dark wooden frame made it an anachronism in its own time or in the present. And the colors are too vivid to be ancient, but they are genuine colors - lapis lazuli, ochre gold. The papyrus is dark, darker than anyone ever remembers seeing in Hollywood, but that means it’s older, because it was years before anyone realized one could bleach paper and make the ink on it more visible, legible, stark. A woman in a dress that looks like fish scales kneels on a tiny pedestal that’s barely long enough to support her legs from knee to toe, and her arms are up, unfurling her lovely wings of white, red, silver scales. So many scales for a woman so like a bird. Hieroglyphics litter the wall behind her, the panel beneath her. One day someone will be able to read them.
(146 words)
(146 words)
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Curly Yarn
It curled, as if someone had turned a poodle into a ball of thread, dyed it variegated blues, greens, and whites, and then unwound it, slowly, slowly, slowly, fixing it into a skein to be sold at a superstore for some granny to turn into a hideous sweater for a grandchild. Soon enough it would be a simple scarf, a novice’s attempt at knitting, stark against the cheery magenta of a knitting loom. It would curl along the edges, knitted in all the wrong places, but it would be soft and warm, and maybe it would fend off the chill of a cold winter’s night.
(105 words)
(105 words)
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Gift from a Friend
Silky smooth and cool to the touch, it lay on the table, full of promise. A heady aroma floated up from the soft and supple leather. Finely stitched and even finer grain spoke of elegance and a touch of anachronism. Gilt edges are slightly worn with time and use. The paper is thick and off-white; covered with a close and careful hand at times and loose hurried scrawl at others, capturing words. Words that flowed, occasionally, from the delicate quill pen that lay near the inkwell on the table, other times from a serviceable and worn fountain pen. Words expressing a soul, a life and a passion. Words that are hidden from the world, tucked carefully away on the shelf, waiting for an addition.
Spring Joys
Brightly stitched cloth flutters up into the sky, born aloft by a warm breeze out of the south. The fresh scents of spring lay heavy in the air that sends up a kite. Blues and greens swirl across the nylon fabric, it looks like waves in they sky. String is played out bit by bit, keeping just enough tension to keep it in the air. As it rises slowly in the golden light of they day it takes less effort to keep it in the air, and more to keep it connected to the ground, and the hand that controls it.
Mask
It hung half in, half out of a battered black shoe box. Someone had twisted two lengths of wire into large almond shapes - eye holes, and then covered the wire with delicate black stitching, delicate black knots that expanded outward in a complicated swirl of rings and chains, picots and clovers, a bridge for over the nose, peaks from which to hang crystals, holes to string through a ribbon. Lying there it looked incongruous, the blank eye holes and the medallion of clovers where the forehead would be, like a target to taunt an assassin. But when the ribbons were taught, knotted, high in a girl’s hair, and the mask was settled in place, it was mysterious and haunting, and turned any girl into an unspeakable beauty.
(127 words)
(127 words)
Clock
The frame was made of wood, a deep, dark, reddish hue that was inconsistent in gradation around the frame, as the frame was clearly constructed of multiple panels not all of the same section of tree, if from the same tree at all. The face was parchment-colored, off-white, like fine paper, and roman numerals were gracefully calligraphed in even intervals around the circular face, upside down at the bottom but legible all the same. Smaller rectangular notations formed a broken circle inside the implied ring of roman numerals, marking off each minute. A hole cut in the center of the face revealed an extensive network of golden cogs, wheels, dials, and spinners, out of which sprouted delicate wrought-iron hands in black, one long, one wide, one hours, one minutes.
Together they all spun and kept lovely time.
(140 words)
Together they all spun and kept lovely time.
(140 words)
Valentine's Gift
It hung from the corrugated steel snakes that kept the lamp bulbs aloft, a snake itself of green velvet. It drooped, bent under the relentless draw of gravity, a bright beacon of color against the industrial colorlessness of the floor lamp. The green velvet stem became fuller green velvet leaves, became brazen red velvet petals, curled and curved to become a rose. A rose, hanging from a floor lamp, in one corner of a small, cramped, messy apartment. A cloth tag jutted white, stark, incongruous from the stem, probably offering up laundering instructions. A white, heart-shaped tag printed with a bar code dangled from a petal, but it was an eternal bloom.
(113 words)
(113 words)
Throwing Knife
It was shining steel and smooth, graceful lines. The edges were smeared in rust-red, and a gentle notation on one flat surface read, in faded black, Pakistani Steel. It whistled through the air and spun with breathless clarity, and it thudded when it landed hilt-first. It ripped when it landed point-first, and when it missed the target altogether it clanged like a misplaced triangle chime amidst the otherwise perfect synchronization of an orchestra. It slid neatly into a leather wrist-sheath, up a sleeve, down a boot, and, when twined with flowers, nestled gently into a girl’s hair.
(101 words)
(101 words)
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
New Skin
It is strange how such a little drop of goo can cause such pain at the same time that it begins the healing process. Strange how a small point of pain spreads with application to cause widespread throbbing, intense pain. What a strange invention, a single swipe provides you with protection and essentially a new skin to protect your wounds as your own skin heals and regrows. And I suppose it is an improvement, at least we are not using superglue anymore to close a cut in a pinch. The included antiseptic is also an improvement, sanitation is a big thing these days. I wish they would add a numbing agent to it as well.
Monday, March 9, 2009
Chain of Civilization
O necessary chain of civilization I spurn you!
Small you are; and growing smaller year by year. I shall have no leash to tie me to the world. When I walk about, I wish and want no interruptions. And I thumb my nose at you; you who would connect me to work. Ha Ha, you can not reach me. I have no need of you, with your bright lights, buzzes and rings, alarms, cameras, and now internet and music. I refuse to be cowed into admitting you to my presence until I deem it to be a necessity. So leave me be, I heed not your siren call.
(Am I getting any better in grammar or is it still abysmally bad?)
Small you are; and growing smaller year by year. I shall have no leash to tie me to the world. When I walk about, I wish and want no interruptions. And I thumb my nose at you; you who would connect me to work. Ha Ha, you can not reach me. I have no need of you, with your bright lights, buzzes and rings, alarms, cameras, and now internet and music. I refuse to be cowed into admitting you to my presence until I deem it to be a necessity. So leave me be, I heed not your siren call.
(Am I getting any better in grammar or is it still abysmally bad?)
Sunday, March 8, 2009
Project #19: Object Lesson
Describe an object. A single object, not a person or a place, just a thing. Feel free to wax poetic about it in ways that are usually frowned upon in actual novel-writing. Capture the detail of the thing and make it come alive. Maybe study an actual object around you and do your best to commit it to paper. Sadly, we do not have a thousand words, so keep it 100-300 words in length. Happy writing and good luck!
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