Posts Tagged ‘#NaNoWriMo’

#5MinuteFiction #NaNoWriMo Edition Week 4 WINNERS!

November 24, 2010

What do you mean you didn’t see this post last night at 9:30? It was here! You need a new pair of glasses, I think… OK, OK. You’re right, I didn’t post this last night. See, I had a headache so around 8:30 I took something, lay down for just a few moments while it went to work and… woke up this morning at 6:00. So there you go.

Good thing, too. I don’t think I could have handled the excitement. Yep, that’s right, winners. Both Paul Freeman, @PolFreeman and R.C. Murphy, @RCMurphy took the crown this week. (Don’t you hear them squabbling over it?)

Yet again the entries have been too excellent for only one to triumph. I heartily agree with all of you, they were both too good to pick from among. That why I cheated and voted for both. KIDDING. I can’t cheat. Well, I suppose I could. But the thing records my IP like everyone else’s and gives me no preferential treatment. (I’ve tried.) 😉

So here they are, the winning entries. Enjoy these with some turkey and a huge slice of pie.

Congratulations you two. See you next week!

Paul Freeman, @PaulFreeman12

Bjarni Olafson stood with his back to the burning building, wind and snow lashed his face as the blizzard grew in strength. He watched the expression on the man’s face in front of him, as it changed from shock to horror and then outrage. Dark smoke from the flaming thatch hung in the air. With a grunt, Bjarni hauled his sword out with both hands gripping the leather covered hilt, the blade rasped free of its sheath.

He watched the other mans eyes dart about the scene, taking in the three youths lying face down in the thick carpet of snow. Two boys and one girl, their throats slit, then to the woman, lying with her skirts hitched up over her hips, exposing white legs and fleshy buttocks. His eyes widened when he saw the tiny form of a babe lying at the foot of a tree, a bloody trail of pulp and bone leading from the trunk.

“Your woman squealed your name when I humped her, Lars,” Bjarni taunted. With a roar the man charged, even though he was weaponless. It was easy work for Bjarni, he swept the sword up in a wide arc, and with a spray of blood and hair flying the other man’s head flew through the air. Bjarni spat once on the decapitated husk.

He was not proud of the evil work he had done this day, nor was he ashamed. Ten years previously Lars Henrikson had led a band of hard men into Bjarni’s village. Under cover of darkness they crept into the settlement and locked the doors of the feasting hall before setting it alight. Anybody who tried to escape by breaking down the walls or cutting through the thatch were shot at with arrows or hacked with great Dane axes. Everybody inside had died. Bjarni had not been there that night, he had returned the following day to find his home a blackened, charred mess and all his family dead.

It had taken him ten years to hunt them all down. Now the ghosts of the dead could rest in peace.

R.C. Murphy, @RCMurphy

“There’s white crap everywhere.”

Alex rubbed her forehead, wishing the persistent headache she’d come to call Titivillus would stop throbbing long enough for her to form a coherent thought. “You’re so observant.”

“Then allow me to make another observation: we aren’t going anywhere.” He leaned into the window, hot breath fogging the glass as he exhaled.

Her teeth came together and ground, a habit she’d formed since his arrival. By the time he vanished back to Hell, or wherever demons called home, she would need dentures. And one hell of a psychologist.

“The wheels are stuck.” Alex slammed her hand against the steering wheel and stared out the windshield.

All around them there was nothing but white, like someone upended a huge bucket of paint on the landscape before their arrival. The storm she’d seen on the news came a day early, carried on the back of the wind shaking the small rental car. Why did she think showing the demon the snow was a good idea? They could have easily stayed home and watched Christmas movies. At least at home she wasn’t in danger of frostbite making one of her nipples fall off.

“How are we-”

“I don’t fucking know, Titivillus!” She turned and glared at the menace. “Can’t you just poof us out of here?”

Titivillus gave her a strange look and shook his head. “I can’t transport you unless absolutely necessary. When you start to freeze to death, then I can move us.”

Alex rubbed her forehead again. By the time a tow truck crawled up the mountain pass, that may very well happen. “Shit. Hand me the phone.”

What was the point of having a demon around if he was forbidden from doing something to actually help her?

#5MinuteFiction #NaNoWriMo Edition Week 4 Finalists

November 23, 2010

Lots of people already on vacation or in frantic-vacation-prep mode. I bet Tony Noland, @TonyNoland didn’t mind that. Judging from among the entries is plenty hard with ten entries, much less twenty five.

And he pulled through for us, handing me, in a nice thick envelope with lovely calligraphy writing on it, the names five finalists. (OK, so there was no calligraphy.)

Paul Freeman, @PolFreeman

Aisling Weaver, @AislingWeaver

R.C. Murphy, @RCMurphy

Sessha Battos, @SesshaBatto

Raziel Moore, @_Monocle_

Agree? Well, whether you do or not, that’s them. 🙂 Here are their fantastic entries. Read, vote below, and then come back at 9:30 for the results. Easy, simple, and fun.

Paul Freeman, @PaulFreeman12

Bjarni Olafson stood with his back to the burning building, wind and snow lashed his face as the blizzard grew in strength. He watched the expression on the man’s face in front of him, as it changed from shock to horror and then outrage. Dark smoke from the flaming thatch hung in the air. With a grunt, Bjarni hauled his sword out with both hands gripping the leather covered hilt, the blade rasped free of its sheath.

He watched the other mans eyes dart about the scene, taking in the three youths lying face down in the thick carpet of snow. Two boys and one girl, their throats slit, then to the woman, lying with her skirts hitched up over her hips, exposing white legs and fleshy buttocks. His eyes widened when he saw the tiny form of a babe lying at the foot of a tree, a bloody trail of pulp and bone leading from the trunk.

“Your woman squealed your name when I humped her, Lars,” Bjarni taunted. With a roar the man charged, even though he was weaponless. It was easy work for Bjarni, he swept the sword up in a wide arc, and with a spray of blood and hair flying the other man’s head flew through the air. Bjarni spat once on the decapitated husk.

He was not proud of the evil work he had done this day, nor was he ashamed. Ten years previously Lars Henrikson had led a band of hard men into Bjarni’s village. Under cover of darkness they crept into the settlement and locked the doors of the feasting hall before setting it alight. Anybody who tried to escape by breaking down the walls or cutting through the thatch were shot at with arrows or hacked with great Dane axes. Everybody inside had died. Bjarni had not been there that night, he had returned the following day to find his home a blackened, charred mess and all his family dead.

It had taken him ten years to hunt them all down. Now the ghosts of the dead could rest in peace.

Aisling Weaver, @AislingWeaver

The mountain road snaked back and forth, moving through the trees and in and out of vision as the wind tore at the Wagoneer and swirled the snow around. Nikisha whined worriedly from behind my seat and I twisted, reaching to soothe her.
“This isn’t good,” Lex murmured, slowing still further, the lack of forward momentum allowing the storm to gain purchase on the bulk of the vehicle and rock it with rough insistence. “We should have hit the turnout by now.” I looked behind, then forward, seeing nothing but a wall of white.
“Have you seen anything noticeable?”
She brought us to a stop and slid the transmission into park. “No, and the storm’s worsening. I think we’re going to have to ride it out.” Our eyes met and my stomach flipped.
“At least we’ve food, blankets, and so forth, right?” I said. I looked out the windows again as the wind shook us, seeming to grow angrier that it couldn’t reach us inside our metal shelter.
“Yep. Guess we’ve plenty of time to talk now, too, hmm?” The tone in Lex’s voice twisted my stomach into knots and I met her eyes, taking a deep breath.
“I’d say so,” I whispered, and she reached out to touch my cheek.
“We’ll find our way out of this,” she said, and I wondered if she meant out of our quandry or out of the mess our relationship had become.

R.C. Murphy, @RCMurphy

“There’s white crap everywhere.”

Alex rubbed her forehead, wishing the persistent headache she’d come to call Titivillus would stop throbbing long enough for her to form a coherent thought. “You’re so observant.”

“Then allow me to make another observation: we aren’t going anywhere.” He leaned into the window, hot breath fogging the glass as he exhaled.

Her teeth came together and ground, a habit she’d formed since his arrival. By the time he vanished back to Hell, or wherever demons called home, she would need dentures. And one hell of a psychologist.

“The wheels are stuck.” Alex slammed her hand against the steering wheel and stared out the windshield.

All around them there was nothing but white, like someone upended a huge bucket of paint on the landscape before their arrival. The storm she’d seen on the news came a day early, carried on the back of the wind shaking the small rental car. Why did she think showing the demon the snow was a good idea? They could have easily stayed home and watched Christmas movies. At least at home she wasn’t in danger of frostbite making one of her nipples fall off.

“How are we-”

“I don’t fucking know, Titivillus!” She turned and glared at the menace. “Can’t you just poof us out of here?”

Titivillus gave her a strange look and shook his head. “I can’t transport you unless absolutely necessary. When you start to freeze to death, then I can move us.”

Alex rubbed her forehead again. By the time a tow truck crawled up the mountain pass, that may very well happen. “Shit. Hand me the phone.”

What was the point of having a demon around if he was forbidden from doing something to actually help her?

Sessha Battos, @SesshaBatto

Kenshin dragged his unconscious apprentice through the rapidly deepening snow. He knew he’d spotted a hut nearby. If they were still anywhere near the path it should be visible an minute, even in the white out of the blizzard.

When the dark shape of the shelter loomed in front of him the samurai breathed a sigh of relief. Heavy snow was nearly unheard of in this part of the country. They lacked the provisions to survive out in the open.

Kenshin kicked open the door and dragged Hiroshi over the threshold, dumping him on the rough pallet against the far wall. ‘First things first,’ he decided. ‘We need to get warm and dry or we won’t last long.’

He quickly stripped the still unconscious form of his clothes and wrapped him in the ragged blanket he’d found. ‘Too bad there’s only one blanket. I don’t think we have anything dry left to wrap myself in.’

He briefly considered joining Hiroshi, eyes shutting briefly as he imagined how warm the younger man would surely be, and how soft he suspected his skin was. Kenshin’s hand reached out to touch . . . but jerked back at the last moment as he, once again, pushed down the feelings the sight of his apprentice aroused.

He finally squatted uncomfortably on the far side of the room, suffering the bitter cold in silence while his mind avidly explored all the possibilities he refused to succumb to.

Raziel Moore, @_Monocle_

“Daciana!” My voice barely rose above the howling wind, and I could barely see Daci’s fur-clad form three paces ahead of me in the gloom.

I was freezing, despite my own many layers.

As well I should be. I was born near the equator, and hadn’t seen snow until I left home, many decades later. It didn’t matter that in the intervening centuries, I’d traveled the world and seen all kinds of climates. No matter who’s blood I drank, mine would always be on the thin side.

Daci stopped and turned toward me.

“It’s not much farther, Alak, I promise!” She called back.

“It had better be! I can’t tell up from down here!”

I staggered up to her and she took my gloved hand in hers.

“Don’t worry. Nearly there, and then we can rest safe – all winter.”

Even in the blizzard her voice soothed.

“I’m sorry we had to run. I’m sorry I slipped. Again. Chuluun…”

“It’s Ok, Alak. We both knew it would take a long time to escape his demons.”

His demons, she said. Not mine. She never called them mine.

“Once we reach the village, we rest there for the long night. And we’ll go somewhere new come spring. I’m thinking the Dutch colonies in South Africa.”

Chasing winter again. Always chasing the darkness and running from the light. This is not what I had imagined those centuries ago.

At least I had Daci with me now. She was almost as good as the sun to guide me.

Ahead in the distance, faint flickers of lanterns – the Kvenlander village of our destination.

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#5MinuteFiction #NaNoWriMo Edition Week 4

November 23, 2010

This, in case you somehow missed the title of the post, is 5MinuteFiction. You have been assimilated.

And welcome to 5MinuteFiction. That means we write fiction. In five minutes. Shocker, I know.

NEW for NOVEMBER: In honor of National Novel Writing Month, since most of us have lost our minds– I mean, are writers attempting NaNoWriMo–we’re going to add a NaNoWriMo twist to #5MinuteFiction. If you’re lucky, you might get to include your entries among the 50,000 word goal for your NaNovel.

The prompts for the month of November will focus on the main character of your WIP, and will be more specific than our normal one-word prompts. It ought to be interesting to see how some of these adapt to the more fantastical worlds some of us run with.

Now, if you’re one of those who has a brain and uses it, otherwise known as isn’t crazy enough to do NaNoWriMo, feel free to participate.

The Rules

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

* You must directly reference today’s prompt: Your Main Character is lost in a blizzard.

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

photo by Daves Portfolio on Flickr


* Post your entry as a comment to this post.

I’ll close the contest at 1:45. That gives you five 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,Tony Noland, @TonyNoland, will nominate five finalists. I’ll put the nominees in the poll on the side of the page, and at 9:30 PM EDT I’ll close the poll and declare the winner.

For updates, you can subscribe to my RSS Feed, 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. 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.

#5MinuteFiction #NaNoWriMo Edition Week 3 WINNER!

November 16, 2010

This one was one to watch. It wasn’t just a contest between two, but three ran neck and neck for a time. Fantastic.

So did your favorite win?

Well someone won, and it was T.L Tyson, @TL_Tyson. In the end she built up a commanding lead and was once again champion. Well done! Whether you voted for her or not, you gotta admit that’s a fine piece of writing there.

Here’s the winning entry again. Enjoy and y’all come back now, y’hear?

They say bitterness is like a poison, filtering through your veins, crippling you emotionally. They say it shuts you down, rendering your heart useless. My mother told me to release my anger, to let it out. She said if I held it inside, bottling it up, that one day it would get the best of me, and, like a snake coiling around my legs, it would squeeze the life from me.

When I was four, I went in search of good, but only found the pornography my father kept under his bed.

The poison of jadedness staunches the flow of happiness. Cynics the world over know exactly what I’m talking about. And the defeatists hold their noses in the air and say, “I’m a realist.” The misanthropes move past, harbouring their disdain for human kind, and snuffing out the good intentions they once possessed.

And last week I realized, there is nothing humane about humans.

They say resentment will freeze your growth. That it’s like cyanide shutting down your vital organs, slaughtering your reasons for living. And the animosity blooms in your chest like the blood red flower of hate, consuming everything you thought you were, until when you look in the mirror you don’t recognize the reflection fazing back at you. I cannot confirm whether this is fact or fiction.

The facts are far bleaker than the fiction anyhow.

What I can confirm is the pain shredding my dignity into tiny pieces. Doubled over on the bathroom floor, I shove my fingers down my throat, trying to discharge the tiny pellets from my stomach. I said I wouldn’t cry. I promised the person I used to be that no matter how hard it is to breathe I wouldn’t beg the Grim not to take me.

This morning when I awoke, I realized I’ve always been sad.

Do you know how rat poison works? It’s a blood thinner. It thins the blood and they bleed to death. It works the same for humans, you just need a bigger dosage.

I thought…

I don’t know what I thought. But as the pain ebbs and a numbing void takes it place, I feel…

Nothing.

#5MinuteFiction #NaNoWriMo Edition Week Three Finalists!

November 16, 2010

Oh, did you like that one? I thought for sure it would just be a random throw-away scene, but I’m starting to think that might add an interesting angle…

I’m loving this NaNoWriMo #5MinuteFiction. I think even once we go back to the standard prompts, I’m going to try to apply them to my WIP while it’s still IP.

There are some fantastic entries this week. I hope they’re going in the novels for many of you, because they’re too good to leave out.

But for all that, there can only be five named finalists and one winner. So here are the finalists Sessha Battos, @SesshaBatto sweated blood choosing.

Chris Blanchard, @blanchardauthor

Paul Freeman, @PaulFreeman12

R.C. Murphy, @RCMurphy

Aisling Weaver, @AislingWeaver

T.L Tyson, @TL_Tyson

Give their entries a read and then vote for the winner in the poll at the bottom. (I figured out that fancy trick. Aren’t you impressed?) Come back at 9:30 to see who’s won it.

Chris Blanchard, @blanchardauthor

Aries and Amanda looked at each other across the table. Aries smiled. He couldn’t help it, he’d been smiling since the ceremony. He wondered if the two of them looked like the newlyweds they were. He realized then that he hoped they did. She smiled back. He looked around the room briefly, just to pull himself away from her deep blue eyes and his desire to just hold and kiss her. The Lunar Lounge was a hot spot for vacationers, and Aries could see why. It was only his second time off Mars, and the Moon was far more like he was used to than Earth was. Still, this place offered an unparallel view. The whole roof was open to the dome, and thus everyone in the restaurant could get a view of Earth. It truly was beautiful, blue and green. From here, Aries could almost think it was innocent.

Aries took a few bites of his food. The pasta was made from a locally grown wheat, and a light flavor that he enjoyed. Amanda ate a chicken breast covered in a tomato sauce of some kind that looked amazing. He looked in her eyes again and started feeling dizzy. He smiled, but the look on her face was concerned.

“What’s the matter?” he said, but the words came out in a slur. “What’s going on?” came out as more slurs.

He tried to stand, but the dizziness was worse. His stomach lurched. He fell to his knees, grasping the table. Amanda was smelling his plate and hunched over him. He couldn’t get a solid look at her, but he could hear her.

“Aries,” she said. “Aries, can you hear me? We need to get you to a hospital. I think you’ve been poisoned.”

Paul Freeman, @PaulFreeman12

I lay on my back panting, arms outstretched as if I had been crucified to the floor. She stood above me, one foot on my chest, pinning me down. My gaze crawled up the length of her nylons, her skirt split either side of her leg, revealing a tantalising glimpse of caramel-cream flesh at the top of her stocking. I yearned to reach out and touch the soft skin of her thigh, to explore her secret places, feel comfort and exhilaration from the warm moistness. But I daren’t move.

My eyes wandered up over the curve of her hip, across her heavy breasts that threatened to spill from her low cut top, to the dark curls cascading over her shoulder, her full red lips parted in a sneer, into her round, brown eyes, so full of contempt. How I hated her… how I loved her.

No, not love, how could I love someone who despised me so. Lust. I wanted to fuck her, I wanted to rip her clothes from her, to push her naked body over a table and hear her scream my name as I rammed her from behind, I wanted to be the dominant one. To hear her beg. Beg for what? For me to stop? For me not to stop?

I realised then she had a gun gripped tightly in both hands, how had I not noticed that before? Because I was like a fly trapped in a spider web, already intoxicated by her venom, poisoned by my passion.

‘Don’t,’ I pleaded. I didn’t want to die, I couldn’t die, not before I had sampled the forbidden fruit. I imagined her skin would taste of butterscotch, that would melt on my tongue. She pulled the hammer back with her right thumb. I squeezed my eyes shut. I flinched when she pulled the trigger, I counted, one second… two seconds… three seconds, nothing, no boom, no excruciating agony. I opened my eyes and she was laughing.

She spat once, I watched it fall, felt it land on my face, could feel the wetness dribble down my cheek. She turned her back on me then, the ultimate sign of contempt. She knew even if or when I came at her again she would put me down, beat me into submission one more time. Maybe it was love after all.

God help me.

R.C. Murphy, @RCMurphy

The juice tasted funny. Vyvyan hoisted the glass into the air, looking at the color of the orange juice. Had it gone bad? She couldn’t see one of the kitchen staff sending up spoiled juice. Maybe they switched to a different type of oranges.

Something swirled in the bottom of the small glass. With a frown, she lifted the glass higher. A small pill fizzled away in the sea of orange.

“William!”

Her body guard was in the room within nanoseconds. He was never far off. Never. Thank God for that.

“What is it?” He loomed, a whole lot of pissed off marring his handsome features.

“I think I’ve been poisoned.” Shaking hands held out the glass.

Vyvyan went to work analyzing her body’s reactions while William glared up at the base of the cup. Her heartbeat, normally sluggish when she hadn’t fed on blood, was elevated. Breaths came in short gasps. Sweat broke out on her brow. But those were all normal signs of distress. What if the poison killed her without symptoms? Was that possible?

A laugh cut off the litany in her head. Green eyes snapped to William. “This isn’t a laughing matter. I’m going to die!”

“Its a vitamin, Vyv. Your father ordered everyone on them last week. The new batch of donor blood isn’t up to his usual standards.” He handed the glass back to her.

Of course. Her father always pulled crap like this without telling her, as though she were not allowed to make decisions about her own body.

“You can go now.” She needed a moment to sit with her shame.

Aisling Weaver, @AislingWeaver

I stared in the mirror, holding my own gaze for the first time in years. When had the last time been, honestly, that I’d done so? I couldn’t remember. I’d developed, by virtue of self-preservation, the ability to comb my hair, brush my teeth, and other such necessary activities without actually looking into the portals to my own mind.
Until now.
I left him six weeks and four days ago. Broken and battered to a point where I’d given up, only to remember there was one, tiny little soul reliant on my survival. And I couldn’t abandon her to him. So I packed everything up and took Niki and my poisoned mind away.
Now I needed to put myself together. How do you do that when you’ve not only been broken but shattered then ground into dust?
You start by looking in the mirror.
And finding something familiar. A glimmer. A flicker. Some shadowed reflection of something you once were before his words slid into your heart and mind and soul like arsenic and turned you into some faded, withered thing.
My eyes were the same color.
Lashes still long and thick.
The tiny scar over my left brow still there, though pale white.
And a smear of color, vibrant purple, marred my cheekbone.
Paint.
Not a bruise.
Paint.
Just oil and pigment.
Just . . . proof.

T.L Tyson, @TL_Tyson

They say bitterness is like a poison, filtering through your veins, crippling you emotionally. They say it shuts you down, rendering your heart useless. My mother told me to release my anger, to let it out. She said if I held it inside, bottling it up, that one day it would get the best of me, and, like a snake coiling around my legs, it would squeeze the life from me.

When I was four, I went in search of good, but only found the pornography my father kept under his bed.

The poison of jadedness staunches the flow of happiness. Cynics the world over know exactly what I’m talking about. And the defeatists hold their noses in the air and say, “I’m a realist.” The misanthropes move past, harbouring their disdain for human kind, and snuffing out the good intentions they once possessed.

And last week I realized, there is nothing humane about humans.

They say resentment will freeze your growth. That it’s like cyanide shutting down your vital organs, slaughtering your reasons for living. And the animosity blooms in your chest like the blood red flower of hate, consuming everything you thought you were, until when you look in the mirror you don’t recognize the reflection fazing back at you. I cannot confirm whether this is fact or fiction.

The facts are far bleaker than the fiction anyhow.

What I can confirm is the pain shredding my dignity into tiny pieces. Doubled over on the bathroom floor, I shove my fingers down my throat, trying to discharge the tiny pellets from my stomach. I said I wouldn’t cry. I promised the person I used to be that no matter how hard it is to breathe I wouldn’t beg the Grim not to take me.

This morning when I awoke, I realized I’ve always been sad.

Do you know how rat poison works? It’s a blood thinner. It thins the blood and they bleed to death. It works the same for humans, you just need a bigger dosage.

I thought…

I don’t know what I thought. But as the pain ebbs and a numbing void takes it place, I feel…

Nothing.

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