The Kindness of Strangers

Thunk.
I heard it,
refused to stop.
I was almost home,
but my hands were
shaking and I
knew I had no choice.

The tire was worn down,
falling apart,
just like my life.
Another problem to add
to the list.

But that nice man,
he stopped.
He helped.
And I wonder how long
it will be until I
can be that stranger.
Until I can help.

(67 words)

Twisted Perceptions

Earth above and sky below;
Moonshine and the sunlight's glow.
Winters growth and Summers snow;
Rivers stop and Deserts flow.









(There will be more to this eventually, I just have to work it out first.)

Space of Human Minds

Between the voices of one or two women -
Director, secretary - arguing policy, procedure
Lingers golden light particles
Broken between smoke-black clouds.

Attention is the ticking of a watch
And the tap, tap of a benchmate’s pen.
Stardust is human thought
Hurtling through the space of imagination.

Staff meetings are
The best places for stories to be born.

(58 words)

Project Assignment #29 - Poetic Moments

That's right kids, in honor of me joining M&M, you get to write poetry ALL WEEK LONG!

Tee hee.

What do I mean by poetic moments? Oh, I don't know. I'm the kind of person that believes that there is a poem lurking in the corner of every day, whether it be simple or complex, an epic or a haiku. Just take something, anything from your day that made you stop and think, and try to explain or describe it in poetry.

Yeah, I couldn't think of anything else for an assignment. Let's keep them pretty short too... these are moments after all. How about a 200 word limit? It can be shorter than that though, if you want.

Good luck!

Overview #28 - Description

I really failed too. I realized the first day of the challenge, that even though I had issued the challenge, it was going to be no good for me this week. I am good at descriptions of places, but not necessarily objects. And more often than not I found myself in a blank, trying to think of anything; but nothing would really come, or to me it would sound pretty lame. I did sorta like a few that I posted, but on the whole, it was a bad week for me. Next week should be better.


Again, a hearty welcome to Jaded Chaos.

Mod Post and Rules 2.1

Let's give a big master and madness welcome to Jaded Chaos, the newest player in the game! She will join the challenge rotation between Madness and Nagi, so this week it's her turn to issue a challenge.

Rules 2.1 - New players must be apply/be invited by a current member and be screened by the admin (in this case: Nagi) before being allowed to join the game. Even though this is a free country, this corner of cyberspace is being guarded closely and the mods have discretion as to who is allowed to join the game.

Rules 2.0

First, check the project posted at the beginning of the week. Post questions in the comments of the weekly project post if any portion of the topic confuses you at all. A week begins on Sunday (with the posting of overviews from the previous week and the new assignment for the next week) and ends on Saturday. Challenges may only be reused once every six months and not more frequently, and the same challenge may not be used thrice in one year, so check back to see what previous challenges have been issued.

Second, try to write every day. Leave lots of constructive criticism in the feedback and do the best you can to help each other.

Third, your word limit is set forth in the weekly challenge. Look at the challenge and keep an eye on the word count. At the end of the post, add your word count so we know what gives. Never go under 100 words unless there's poetry invovled.

Fourth, label your posts. Can be anything from "random" to "Dagaz" (but really, only use that one if you must). Try to use a consistent system of labels, so check the existing list of labels before randomly slapping one on your post.

Fifth, there will be overviews. At the end of the week, we make our confessions - strengths, weaknesses. Posts of our own we liked most and liked least. Types of writing we found typical, we thought were experimental, we enjoyed doing or were like pulling teeth. Places we improved. Places we screwed up.

Sixth, if you discover midweek that you're going a challenge alone, finish it out by yourself and then do your best to nudge the person whose turn it is to issue the next week's challenge.

Seventh, if for any reason life hits all the writers at once and a challenge is dead for an entire week, it is automatically renewed at the end of the week to run for another week so that no challenge is wasted.

Eighth, these rules ares subject to alteration and change as the game progresses.

In the meantime, game on.

Overview #28 - Description

I think I totally failed at this game. I did totally let loose as far as waxing a little purple on the lurid descriptions of whatever, but I don't know that my writing improved any. In fact, near the end of the week it seemed to devolve into fragments, lists, and run-on sentences. When I was trying to make a puzzle of what I was describing (save the entry inspired by Millay) my writing fell apart, but if I was pretty open about what was what, my writing was better. Of course, in a novel or short story one rarely plays hide the ball to quite this degree or one risks losing readers altogether. Still, it was fun to attempt to pick apart the details in daily objects.

Back Row All To Himself

Heartbeat. Military march. Machine guns. Swing dancing beneath candle light. Whiskey jazz in a smoky club. Punk and metal, pop and country, rockabilly and ska. All it took was solid rounded wood, smooth, sleek metal rounded into discs, plastic pulled taut over open mouths, hinges and screws galore, pedals and petals, a pair of nylon-head sticks and a pair of even better hands. He could play it all, was the backbone of a song, was the little row of pearls beneath blazing riffs and thumping bass, jumping from crash to ride to splash, from verse to chorus to bridge, and at the end of the day he could still hear himself play, the steady double thump-thump of a heart beating strong.

(123 words)

Six-String Shine

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

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

Smoke in the Night

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

Waves of Grain

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

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

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

Mr. White Keys

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

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

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

Whispering...

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



(grr... Writers block)

In the Sun 'Tis a Woe to Me

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

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

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

(101 words)

Bells on the Wind

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


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

Play the Game

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

And then a door loomed ahead.

Someone said, "Kick it down."

No response.

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

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

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

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

Overview #27 - Characterization in an Instant

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

Project Assignment #28 - Description

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

Lets limit it to 200 words.

Overview #27: Characterization in an instant

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

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

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