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!
The Rules
* You get five minutes to write a piece of prose or poetry in any style or genre
* You must BEGIN your entry with: He was tall, dark, and handsome, and incredibly ugly.
(Note: The prompt is above. The picture is for decoration/inspiration.)* Post your entry as a comment to this post.
I’ll close the contest at 12:45. 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, J.P. Sloan, @J_P_Sloan will nominate five finalists.
I’ll put the nominees in a poll, and at 9:00 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. Or follow us on twitter with the #5MinuteFiction hashtag.
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.
He was tall, dark, and handsome, and incredibly ugly. He was human after all, and the novelty factor only gets you so far in the Courts these days. A lady might understand how his features were perfectly symmetrical, how his eyes were just the right shade of blue, how even his body fit into the Golden Mean that defined even our own standards of beauty.
Still, what seethed beneath the surface of his thoughts was just that primal sort of rage that meant in the thousand years since our kind walked the Earth, they hadn’t changed. The trappings of technology meant his teeth were straight, his skin unblemished, and he could walk like a giant where when I was a child, they’d barely been taller than I, on average.
I shuddered every time my gift allowed my mind to touch his. We’d left to protect us from this, not just their iron and crosses. He might rail at me, call me devious and whore and devil and worse, but I am not the one who doesn’t understand my true nature.
He was tall, dark, and handsome, and incredibly ugly. The ugly rolled off him in waves, I am pretty sure not everyone could see it. He had the kind of ugly that hides. It’s just under the surface, and it will show itself as soon as he opens his mouth. Or it comes out in his actions. On the outside he looks like the perfect man, desireable and hot. But I knew better, so I let the other girls in the bar fawn all over him. I wasn’t going to waste my time, I knew the type. I saw the ugly swimming in his eyes, and I realized that what I usually call my curse was a gift tonight.
@adenpenn
‘He was tall, dark, and handsome and incredibly ugly. All at the same time.’
“Yeah, that’s all I got,” Jon said.
“What do you mean that’s all you got?” Sarah asked.
“I mean that’s all I got. I can’t really think of anything more to write.”
“Well you just blew like seven minutes of writing time on that ‘Tallarnan Mind Shield’ idea so you better come up with something and fast.”
“Ugh,” he moaned. “Okay. How about this?”
*copy*, *paste*
@redshirt6
He was tall, dark and handsome, and incredibly ugly. So ugly, to the natives, that if he looked at the wrong kw-ellar, the creature would probably attack. The native life of Ellas found the human body repugnant, and Tam couldn’t afford the shape-concealing exosuits that human ambassadors and merchants normally wore.
Mind you, he didn’t think much of them either; they looked like dry cowpats, with a dozen short, slimy legs poking out from underneath. The slime protected their bare skin against the alkaline soil, but was toxic enough to kill by even brushing contact.
All he had to do was get past the town and out to the spaceport without being seen. The ambassadorial compound would be safe. If all else failed, he could rely on his good looks to get help from the ambassador’s wife.
Title: Space Flight Can Be Dangerous for Your Health
He was tall, dark, and handsome, and incredibly ugly … such an attractive man with such a horrible personality. Sure, he was pleasant to look at but as soon as he opened his mouth, it was downhill from there. It would’ve been perfect if he was the strong, silent type. However, he was of the loud, boorish variety.
If I didn’t have to put up with him for my job, I would’ve shoved him out of the airlock one cycle ago. Seriously. Even now I was starting to wonder if the credits I earned for my time were worth this kind of torture. Maybe I could inquire for hazard pay. Dealing with him was truly a life-threatening experience.
“Where’s my cargo?” he blared through the intercom, not even bothering to ask if I was busy.
I rolled my eyes and pressed the comlink. “All cargo is kept in the suspensor bay by the main airlock, Mr. Schrock.”
“I need it now.”
“Access to the suspensor bay is not permitted during the flight.”
“Well, stop.”
I wanted to bang my head against my control board. “I cannot stop the ship mid-jump, Mr. Schrock. Our ETA at your destination is less than four hours. You will be able to retrieve whatever you need at that time.”
“Unacceptable.”
I gritted my teeth and tried to remember why I was doing this. It was hard to remember when faced with this kind of passenger. Would it really be noticed if Mr. Schrock never made it to his destination? Would anyone really miss him?
A plan began to develop in my mind …
@MLGammella
He was tall, dark, and handsome, and incredibly ugly.
That’s right. You know, you can be handsome and ugly at the same time. Doesn’t take a lot of work either. Just a single word. A glance. A sneering remark. Blows the pretty face all to hell…
Ryan breezed into the office, his cloying cologne making all of the secretaries swoon as he walked by in his perfectly pinstriped grey suit. You could almost hear the collective sigh rise above the cube farm as he walked through.
“Hello, gorgeous,” he said, winking at Marianne.
The vapid redhead giggled and blushed furiously as he sailed by, standing up to watch him go.
I rolled my eyes at their transparent behavior. I admit. I used to stare just like the rest of them. But last night changed everything for me.
They’d all have given their right arm to have been in my shoes last night. I got to see Ryan in wild, as they would say. Out at one of the bars. Black leather pants hugged every curve of his ass. He was fine – no doubt.
But I heard his words when the slightly plump blonde approached him. She was stumbling a little, already tipsy. Her unfocused blue eyes were wide as she raised the courage to talk to the handsome man at the bar. He sneered at her before she even opened her mouth, his words lost to the dull roar of the bar crowd, but I saw her face fall. I saw the way he cut her to the core. She lost her shine with just a single sentence falling from his perfectly formed lips.
And the illusion died for me forever.
@JenD_Author
He was tall, dark, and handsome, and incredibly ugly. His jaw was chiseled, his eyes shone with an impossible blue, his entire face was constructed to be perfect in every imaginable way.
And that was the problem.
“No,” said Anne. “No, he won’t do at all. Look at him.” She circled the man before her, as he stood naked and silent. His pecs were tight, his buttocks firm, his abs stood out as a perfect row of ridges. His…well, that was pretty decent too. But it was all wrong.
“What’s wrong, Miss Henders?”
“He’s…he’s just all wrong, can’t you see that?”
“We’ve focus grouped every part of his appearance. Everything from the color of his skin to the length of his calves,” they were just the right length, Anne realized, “designed to match the widest possible demographic definition of physical perfection.”
“Can we bring it back about five percent?”
“Five percent, ma’am?”
“Just. Not quite perfect. Something that actually goes together a little better. Something that could actually pass for human. Something that didn’t look like it crawled out of the Uncanny Valley.”
Scribbling on clipboards, whispering. “So what should we do with this model?”
“Scrap it for parts. Reuse anything you can.”
“Understood.” They took the man by the elbows, and led him out the room. All the way she watched the tight butt walking. Really, she thought, collapsing into her chair, a good man should be this hard to make.
@DL_Thurston
He was tall, dark, handsome and incredibly ugly the way his face scowled and his eyes flashed. The poor girl stood in front of him, dripping wet and he made not a move to help her. She’d tripped on her way to the table, his third gin and tonic in her hand, when his wildly fluctuating arms flashed in front of her knocking the drink back. The tears ran indistinguishable down her face from the alcohol and she turned and fled, kicking the speared olives as she went.
I watched my twin from across the table laugh at the girl’s misfortune. We really were nothing alike. I realized this all at once and as much as it pained me, I called the manager over to deal with my asshole brother. It’d be a cold day in hell before I gave him another minute of my time.
“Call him a cab,” I said quickly and went in search of the girl who’s name I couldn’t remember from her chipper speech at the beginning of lunch. I found her in the back by the panic door, wiping her face down with a heated towel, my expensive suit out of place amongst the starched white uniforms of the wait staff.
“Hey,” I said quietly, holding my hands up at the anger on her face. “I’m not him, I’m the other one.”
She smiled after a second, embarrassed to have been caught as such.
“You’re right,” she said. “You aren’t him.”
@krob_author
@corinneoflynn
He was tall, dark, and handsome,
and incredibly ugly.
The ladies would swoon and then some
until they got a good look-see.
The children would hear his baritone laugh
And run to just be near him
But once he looked them in the eye
Their view made their courage run thin.
He couldn’t help that he was ghouly
He was born that way, you see.
A face only a mother could love
His own mother, specifically.
He tried to find his calling
But all attempts had failed
Until the day he opened the box
And saw what was in his mail.
Back models wanted, call today
He got chills just reading the ad
no need for rosy faces
Just a tall dark handsome-back lad
He called and went to meet them
And wore a hood down low
He stripped his shirt around his waist
And turned his back just so.
You’re the one, we found him!
A back so great and clean
Just keep that hood on boy
‘cuz that mug is not to be seen.
@corinneoflynn
He was tall, dark, and handsome, and incredibly ugly. Its not that I was confused at all, but the fact is he had two heads.
I know, I know, people don’t come with two heads, at least not right out of the factory, not standard issue, not at all.
But here’s the thing: He didn’t come out of the factory. Not the mommy parts factory, anyways. It was more like the alien hominid breeder parts factory. So there, now you know. He was an alien.
Or an alien hybrid. I’m not entirely sure.
One thing I DID know for sure is that my Dad was not going to approve of my blind date. No, not one bit.
I led him by the hand into the living room where Dad was sitting in his favorite, overused and broken recliner. I secretly enjoyed the nonplussed look of horror he gave my date.
“Good evening Mr. Cavanaugh.” said one head. “What a blithering moron! is that my date’s father? This can’t be good.” said the other head.
Dad kept looking back and forth between each head, trying to decide what to think, or do, or say. I don’t think he succeeded in coming up with anything approaching appropriate, so he just blurted out:
“Hey, now!”
That was it for a minute, just “Hey, now!”. Glib, my dad is.
“This is Howard/Rance, the blind date the online dating service set me up with, dad.” I tried gamely to salvage the situation. It fell into the room like a lead weight and crashed through the floor into the crawlspace and probably into China.
Dad folded his newspaper up and set it aside.
“um…ok, I need to know your intentions with my daughter” he began.
“Dad! its just a first date!” I keened.
“It’s ok, Meg, I’m happy to answer. I intend to wine and dine your daughter and then take her up into my spaceship and start breeding little…”
“HEY! shut up, Rance! No, no, that’s not it at all Mr. Cavanaugh. I’m only interested in your daughter’s…”
“SMOKIN HOT BOD!” Rance yelled. My Dad actually jumped, it was so loud.
“NO! I was going to say interested in her company for the evening to take her to a movie and dinner”
“AND THEN we’ll jump her, dirty style and make her scream like a rutting pig. SQUEAL, SQUEAL!!”
Howard reached over and punched Rance’s head, hard, knocking him out cold.
A big silence settled over the room.
“So, how do you support yourself?” my dad asked.
He was tall, dark, and handsome, and incredibly ugly.
His firm mouth curled into a sneer and I really just wanted to smack that look right off his face. But he was the one holding all the cards. Literally. My cards, all the credit I’d carefully stored up on money cards over the past two years. Money for a rainy day. Specifically this one, when I was all packed, ready, and hiding in the bushes to sneak away from that man forever.
“Going somewhere?” he asked, his supercilious fake accent curled under my skin like nettles. Really, smacking him might be worth the consequences this time.
“Yep,” I said, my voice trembling, betraying me. His smile broadened.
“Oh, good, I could use a little day-trip. Mind if I join you?”
Ummmmmm. Huh?
“Come again,” I said.
“We’re going somewhere, you said. Anywhere I know.”
I saw it then, the tensing of his body, the way he leaned forward on the balls of his feet. The cruel glitter in his eye. Oh yeah, buddy. Somewhere you know very well.
“Yep, I’m taking you home,” I said.
His brow creased in confusion for a moment before the pretense fell away.
“Oh. This is your home. Always will be. Always.”
“I didn’t say my home.”
He frowned.
“What the hell are you talking about!”
I pulled out my last resort fund.
“This.” I pointed the shiny barrel straight between his eyes.
He was tall, dark, and handsome, and incredibly ugly.
His soul was, that is. How could something so beautiful house such a mean, despicable spirit?
I sat watching him day in and day out in our shared History of Western Civilization class. Every Monday, Wednesday, Friday in class. Every Tuesday and Thursday in the coffee shop where he worked and I got my morning caff fix.
First time it happened, my eyes must have gotten wide when I realized he strolled into our 9 am class in the same clothes I had seen him wear the day before at the coffee shop.
Not that I noticed what he wore.
At all.
Not that I noticed the rumpled jeans. The wrinkled tee shirt or button up. Every week for three weeks.
He was a senior and I’m only a freshman. He can do whatever he wants with whomever he wants. Doesn’t mean I have to notice it.
Nope.
Doesn’t mean I have to…Who am I kidding. I’d love for him to notice me. But he doesn’t. At. All.
I hang my head at the thought as I approach yet another day of Western Civ.
I swear I saw him smirk at me as I scooted past him on my way to my assigned seat, a hospital visitor sticker plastered to his shirt. I paused when I saw the folded piece of paper in my chair.
I picked it up and debated opening it.
I felt eyes staring at me so I glance around. Everyone seems to be in their own little world.
Coffee? reads the paper.
Maybe he’s not so ugly after all.
@dejeansmith
Desmond awoke with a start, the fringe of his dark hair in his eyes. He looked around, gagging at the gore around him, the blood on the walls. When he spotted the body of the prostitute on the bed, his stomach gave a heave. He ran out of the house, a cloak pulled up to hide his chiseled, bloodstreaked face. The blackouts were only getting worse, the ugly darkness in his soul growing.
He straightened the tie on the elegant suit looking at his reflection in the mirror, the face that made the ladies of London high society blush and giggle… A cringe marred the striking features as he heard the paper boy in the square, shouting how Jack the Ripper had struck again. He struck the mirror, shattering it, distorting his reflection. How long before the ugliness inside came out?
He was tall, dark, and handsome, and incredibly ugly.
He did the costume justice, with the lopsided padding and bulbous nose.
He was scaring the children, but all the adults were covering their mouths, trying to keep from laughing. Obviously, the rental store had run out of Santa costumes. Not surprising, since he always waited until the last minute to do anything. But he’d raided three different dollar stores and the Good Will that afternoon to put together a costume in time for the party.
Her heart melted all over again. This tall, tan, utterly gorgeous man… and there he was, surrounded by a gaggle of kids, happy as a clam even though his beard kept falling off.
Maybe she should have said yes. Maybe, if he asked her again…
And then Santa had one little box left. And Santa got down on one knee…
He was tall, dark, and handsome, and incredibly ugly. Don’t believe me? Take a look at him yourself!
No woman could resist his perfectly tanned skin, model like looks, and thick dark hair. His hunter green eyes only added to his beauty. And don’t even get me started about his smile. His many hours spent in the gym was well worth it, if his sculpted body were any indication. His voice was the perfect bass that flowed well through any conversation. So much gorgeousness to look at for one woman to handle. She could get lost fast!
And then, he opens his mouth.
Oh, if only there were a way to keep him silent!
I shook my head in wonder watching him sit down with a gorgeous blonde at the pool. She smiled brightly when he started showing her attention at this party. Poor, unsuspecting woman. She was so blinded by his pearly whites that she failed to see how quickly the others had run away.
As a server, I happen to see all the excitement. If only she knew the reason why his shirt was off.
Walking past with a tray of champagne, the gorgeous blonde grabbed one without thanking me, still in her conversation…
“I’m so glad Jenna invited me today. Otherwise, we never would have met.”
He smiled and nodded, sipping from his own champagne flute.
“So, what brought you here today? Besides Jenna, of course.”
“It was just Jenna.”
The gorgeous blonde smiled. “She’s great, isn’t she?”
“Yeah, one of the best. But, you wouldn’t know that. You weren’t here last night.”
She frowned. “Last night?”
“Or, this morning,” he continued, smiling. “But there’s always room for one more, if you’re game.”
Shaking her head, the gorgeous blonde replied, “I’m not sure I’m following…”
By this time, I wasn’t in ear shot anymore. There was a great shady spot I could stand until I was needed again. It was the perfect place to watch…
Yeah, he’s doing it again. He’s still talking, and the blonde is finally getting it. It’s like she’s trying to hang in there, but now that his hand is reaching for…oh, no…not again…
Yep. He grabbed her boobs.
And there goes the rest of her champagne in his face.
Oh, and she’s yelling.
Aww. Tall, dark and handsome is now the cheese that stands alone.
He shrugs it off and settles in for a nice tanning day. About five minutes later, here comes a beautiful brunette. I smile to myself, ready to walk past with a flute of champagne.
I could watch this all day. How sad is that?
Time’s up, kids! See you at 2:00 with the finalists!
He was tall, dark, and handsome, and incredibly ugly. This was by design. He was also short. Blonde and raven-haired, winsome and depraved, loving and hateful. When he’d finished interacting with someone, the person was never sure whether he or she had just been flirted with or threatened with physical violence. He left a ripple of furrowed brows behind him when he strode and shambled down a crowded street, and if he got you alone in a room…well, anything could happen.
It was a physical and psychological modification package that most people wouldn’t use even if their work required it, and his work most definitely required it. No others in his chosen profession, however, went quite so far as he. He was the walking embodiment of the uncanny valley, wrapped in a full body suit of wet nanoware that mimicked flesh and pumped out waves of psy that reached right through your skull, leaving little bursts of random neuronal arcing where any clear memory of him might have formed.
And, if he wanted to, he could blow your brains out through your ears with a well-directed pulse.
All of these morphings of form and spurtings of waves and pules took a tremendous amount of energy: while on the job, upwards of 10,000 calories a day. The morning that he vaulted over the counter of the Magnolia Bakery on Bleeker Street and began cramming fistfuls of cupcakes into his molten, distorted face, he hadn’t eaten for three days.
@writebastard
Whoops, damn.
@writebastard