#5MinuteFiction Week 54 v2

What is 5MinuteFiction, you say? It’s an adrenaline-fueled, instant-gratification sort of writing contest. Sound fun? Great! Get in there and get dirty!

Especially because this is a SPECIAL EVENING EDITION of 5MinuteFiction.

 

The Rules

* You get five minutes to write a piece of prose or poetry in any style or genre

* You must start your entry with this sentence: He’d lie awake, chilled from the cold sweats that troubled his infrequent dozing.

(Note: The prompt is the word. The picture is for decoration/inspiration.)

 
 
 
 

* Post your entry as a comment to this post.

I’ll close the contest at 1:45. That gives you 5 minutes to write and ten to accommodate the vagaries of relative time, technology, and the fickle internets. If you are confused or just want to whine, feel free to email me.

At the close of the contest, this week’s guest judge, dk Levick, @dk_levick , will nominate five finalists. I’ll put the nominees in a poll, and at 12:00 EDT tomorrow I’ll close the poll and declare the winner.

 

For updates, you can subscribe to my RSS Feed, “like” my Facebook Page, or follow me on twitter.

What’s the prize? Well, nothing, obviously. But we’ll all agree to tweet and/or blog about the winner of today’s contest so their fame and fortune will be assured.

A Few Notes:

* In the interest of time and formatting, it’s best to type straight into the comment box or notepad. It’s also smart to do a quick highlight and copy before you hit “post” just in case the internets decide to eat your entry. If your entry doesn’t appear right away, email me sometimes comments go into the suspected spam folder and I have to dig them out.

* I reserve the right to remove hate speech or similar but I’m not too picky about the other stuff.

* This is all for fun and self-promotion. So be sure to put your twitter handle at the end of your post and a link to your blog if you have one.

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11 Responses to #5MinuteFiction Week 54 v2

  1. Kimmydonn says:

    He’d lie awake, chilled from the cold sweats that troubled his infrequent dozing. His abominable fear of the dark hadn’t gotten better with age, as everyone had promised. He was still sure that his death waited in the shadows. He didn’t fear a monster under the bed or in his closet. He knew those were fantasies, fancies of a little boy. No, now he feared black widow spiders, snakes, things that were real, things that could make their way through cracks, pipes, lurking out of sight, waiting to bite.

    It was pure paranoia, but he turned on his lamp again anyway, waking his latest girlfriend. They were all so considerate at first, but after a few night even sleep masks weren’t enough for most of them.

    “Chester?” she asked groggily. “Oh, did I turn that off. I’m sorry, babe. I didn’t mean to.” Tossing she rolled over and hugged him across the chest. “You leave it on, and I’ll stay to make sure you wake in the morning.” She yawned and adjusted the mask on her face. “Go to sleep.” She started to hum until it faded into heavy deep breaths that were soon echoed by his own.

    He hoped Laurel wasn’t like the others. He hoped she’d stay till morning, and the morning after, and the morning after that.

    @Kimmydonn
    Kimmydonn recently posted..Works in ProgressMy Profile

  2. He’d lie awake, chilled from the cold sweats that troubled his infrequent dozing. The body still lay on his kitchen floor, no matter how many times he went to make sure it was really gone as soon as he closed his eyes his mind told him it was still there. He could no longer sleep.

    He went into the bathroom and splashed cold water on his face. The water ran off bright red, he screamed, jarring himself back to life and back to the swirling clear liquid running down the drain. He could not feel clean. He turned on the water to full hot then stepped out of his clothes. They were still sticky with blood even though the clothes he had been wearing were buried —in the kitchen— along with the body. He scrubbed again, it was his fourth shower since he returned, the bottom of his bathtub was caked with mud and blood and hair and nothing, he had used two bottles of bleach but it all kept coming back.

    He used the barbecue brush to scrub off the evidence again. This time the water ran red for real as layers of skin peeled off his body. The blistering heat numbed the pain in the shear volume of pain recepticles it overloaded, still he scrubbed. And scrubbed. And scrubbed.

    @DRyanLeask
    Author of “Counting Down the Storm”
    Available Exclusively Everywhere

  3. He’d lie awake, chilled from the cold sweats that troubled his infrequent dozing. He was doing it again now. Richard sighed and sat up, giving up on trying to get back to sleep, afraid of what would happen if he did. He hadn’t had a good nights sleep in nearly a week now. Not since the incident. Not since the Man in White invaded his dreams. Every night, it was the same thing. The man in a white suit, with a long white, fur lined coat, white had, white sunglasses and white cane would appear. He even had white hair. All he did was stare at Richard. An intense stair, despite not being able to see his eyes. It always made Richard break out in sweat, both in and out of the dream. He would turn to run, but he never got anywhere. The Man in White was always in front of him, no matter where he turned, laughing a maniacal laugh.

    Richard sighed again, and pulled a Red Bull from the mini fridge he kept in his room. He flicked on the computer, and once again did a search on every search engine he could find on a Man in White, in dreams, out of dreams. And once again, found nothing. He needed to figure this out soon. He needed some sleep.

    Up above Richard’s room, looking in through a small window that was invisible from below, a man dressed all in white looked down at him. He smiled, lifting his walking cane to his lips, he flipped the top open and pressed a small red button.

    “The experiment is proceeding well,” he whispered. “I am ready to proceed to phase two.”

    @blanchardauthor
    Chris Blanchard recently posted..On the Road of ResearchMy Profile

  4. He’d lie awake, chilled from the cold sweats that troubled his infrequent dozing. Every day the same. Night was always too long. But last night, last night was too short, or, more accurately, the morning came after last night was over. Harris came too.

    Harris waited below, as he always did, honking the horn one short, polite beep and then waiting, no matter how long Michael took, Harris never honked more than once.

    Michael slid into the passenger seat without looking at the other man.

    “Good morning,” Harris said.

    “Morning,” Michael mumbled into the coffee he was clutching desperately with both hands.

    “How are you this morning,” Harris asked as he glanced over his shoulder, checking his blind spot.

    Michael’s mouth was dry. Was he really going to make meaningless conversation as if nothing had happened? As if they hadn’t–

    “Fine,” he said.

    Harris reached for Micheal’s knee and Michael sucked in a breath through his nose, tensing. But Harris’s hand fell on the gear shift, moving it smoothly into first. He hadn’t noticed.

    Say something! Michael screamed silently.

    “I had the best date last night,” Harris said. “That girl my sister set me up with, you remember? I was so sure it would be awful, but it was really nice.”

    Michael’s mouth dropped open and he stared at the other man. Until it dawned on him.

    “Oh my God it was just a dream,” he whispered.

    “What was that?” Harris asked.

    “Nothing, man,” Michael sighed. “Nothing at all.”
    Leah Petersen recently posted..BLOG TOUR- dk Levick’s BridgesMy Profile

  5. Alana Mander says:

    He’d lie awake, chilled from the cold sweats that troubled his infrequent dozing, going over that moment again and again. Picking it apart, looking for any tiny way that he could have altered the outcome. What if he had left the office on time instead of stopping to talk to the pretty new girl? What if he’d called in sick that morning? What if he’d walked that day instead of taking the car? If he had done any of these things, would she still be alive? Or would someone else have taken his place in delivering that fatal blow?

    Every time he closed his eyes he’d see the fear in those young green eyes as they came through the windscreen. She had appeared out of nowhere, and now she would never be anywhere ever again.

    @AlanaMander

  6. Meredith says:

    He’d lie awake, chilled from the cold sweats that troubled his infrequent dozing. Jared’s mind wandered without his consent into visions both bothersome and enlightening. The tingling in his feet mixed with sweat sometimes distracted him from the scenes racing behind his lids. But the visions pulled harder. This particular night, the images were rife with children. Some of them played, but most of them looked at him, confused.

    He needed to help them, he was sure of that. He looked around for the tools. Wait, what did they need? They looked fine on the outside.

    “I can do it! I can do anything!” a boy screamed as he leapt from a branch ten feet in the air. Jared ran to him, but the boy simply got up and went running to play with someone else.

    Jared spent what seemed like hours chasing crisis after crisis. But what was he supposed to do? He wanted a different vision, something he could deal with, something that was clear. The tingling had coursed up his legs and into his chest. His breathing was hard. His eyelids fluttered open but the images didn’t change. And suddenly he was under water staring at the boy who had jumped out of the tree. Here was his chance!
    @dailybipolar
    Meredith recently posted..Im Not Thinking about Suicide This TimeMy Profile

  7. Tauisha Nicole @shells2003 says:

    He’d lie awake, chilled from the cold sweats that troubled his infrequent dozing. He’d like to say it came from sleeping in an unfamiliar bed. But, really, it’s only been about four days. He liked feeling useful for someone. His mother appreicated him being there, as well as Gran.

    Leah, on the other hand…

    She’s the reason he couldn’t sleep. She’s the reason he was feeling anguished. While he knew the reasons why she didn’t want to be in his life anymore, it was something he couldn’t accept.

    But, he couldn’t sleep, either. Insomnia gripping him now, he got out of bed and headed downstairs.
    Once there, he opened the fridge and grabbed a glass of lemonade. Thoughts of Leah haunted him even while awake. He remember the good times. Even the not so good ones. And what’s crazy is, despite it all, she was the only person he ever wanted to be with. It was like family, you know? Even when they get on your last nerve, the last thing you’ve ever want is to be away from them. Forever.

    And this would be forever, wouldn’t it? Things weren’t looking up, and had no chances of ever doing so.

    “Couldn’t sleep?”

    Carter turned and saw his mother. She smiled and sat at the table. “I thought I heard you leave your room. You’ve been gone for a while. What’s on your mind?”

    “You’d think I’d be tired. Gran has me working overtime.”

    His mother laughed slightly. “She loves having you here. You’ve gotten so much done already. Though, we both feel bad about you being gone from work.”

    “Best part of being the boss,” Carter grinned slightly.

    His mother folded her fingers together under her chin. “So, how long are you and Leah going to be fighting?”

    Carter huffed. Figures. “There’s no getting away from our problems, huh?”

    “Not until you deal with them,” his mother leaned over the table. “You still love her. Otherwise, it wouldn’t be so hard.”

    Carter sighed and looked down, his shoulders slumping. “Of course, I love her. That’s not the problem.”

    His mother froze, frowned…then sighed. “Not taking responsibility for your actions. Is this the way I raised you?”

    Carter glanced up and saw the shame on his mothers face. Not being able to take it, he made a haste exit to his room.

  8. Joanne says:

    He’d lie awake, chilled from the cold sweats that troubled his infrequent dozing. It was a rare night that saw him get three straight hours of sleep, and a rare morning that saw him eat breakfast with a spoon that didn’t tremor. This morning was not one of those mornings.

    The buzzer at the door hummed, as broken as he was.

    “Ben!”

    He stared at the intercom. Someone using his name.

    “I found her.”

    He hadn’t left his apartment in three months, but in that moment he soared, out of the window, across the overcrowded city, taking in every human breath, every sigh, every wish. His chair scraped across the kitchen floor as he raced across the room to press the button.

    “Can she do it?” he asked the box. “Can she stop it?”

    @todaywemade

  9. That’s it, folks. Did you have fun? Did you notice that your first sentence was the first sentence from dk’s 5MinuteFiction entry he wrote Tuesday?

    See you at 7:30 or earlier with the finalists.
    Leah Petersen recently posted..BLOG TOUR- dk Levick’s BridgesMy Profile

  10. Kaolin Fire says:

    He’d lie awake, chilled from the cold sweats that troubled his infrequent dozing. He’d curse, in a dozen languages, the turns that had brought him to this place and time. The stark walls, the bouts of screaming from adjacent cells, knowing his turn would come again. But even diplomats were not above the law. Not here. This was justice at its purest, and he knew that it was right the he be punished. The worst part was that he couldn’t tell if it had been days or just hours, had no idea what portion of the sentence he had carried out. It was all just a haze of pain and fear.

    His door slammed open, and he winced at the sound.

    “Juror 5923455, do you understand the charges and their associated penalties?”

    He coughed, then spat. His voice was dry and cracked, but he answered, “Yes.”

    “Then in accordance with the laws of this state and jury selection, section 3 subsections 17 through 21, you have been deemed fit for jury duty. The trial will begin in two days. The information will be wired to your identicard, and if you follow the blue lines out, you’ll be able to rest a bit. There’s apple juice, and cookies, and your choice of movies.”

    He stood, stumbled, and balanced himself against the wall. “I understand,” he coughed, voice still harsh. “Thank you.”

    “Do you have any questions, or is there anything else I can help you with?” asked the guard.

    “No. No, thank you. I think I’d just like to go home, now, and pray I never wind up on jury selection for a case this severe again.”

    The guard chuckled. “Tell me about it. My cousin had to undergo jury empathy training for a third strike child molester. Sometimes you just have to wonder.”

    He smiled. “I’ll count my blessings, there. I hope he recovers soon.”

    “Thanks. I’ll pass that on.”

    He stumbled out of the cell, carefully following the blue trail.

    @kaolinfire

  11. Jennifer says:

    He’d lie awake, chilled from the cold sweats that troubled his infrequent dozing. His eyes continually forming hallucenogenic images on the spackled ceiling, the big toe on his left foot twitching uncontrollably. What was he thinking, just letting her go that way? Amber had been the best thing that had ever happened to his mundane life. She was smart, funny, compassionate. And she could whip up a mean spinach and grueyere souffle, one that would make Mario Batali blush. Everything in his life was better, more interesting, and vibrant when she was around. So why had he been so stupid.

    “I’ll tell you why,” the familiar voice in his head began. His mother, long dead, but still nearly omnipresent. ” Because you’re a stupid, stupid boy who can’t tell crap from pea soup. That’s who you are!”

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