I am pleased to report that the battery of physicians and psychiatrists who monitor my well-being on a daily basis have at long last declared me fit to proceed with another contest!
You remember the last one? The one I’m not even linking to because clicking over to it may crash your computer?
Well. This one will be even more preposterously magnificent than all of the others combined, as it arises out of this imponderable question: what makes good dialogue… good?
I don’t really know. I know it when I see it, but what does good dialogue have in common? Do we really know? I don’t. Let’s find out!
Here are the contest rules, which may be amended with zesty randomness and are subject to my own interpretations and opinions, which are known to be both feckless and strongly held. You’ve been warned.
The rules!
1. Please enter up-to-but-not-exceeding 250 words of dialogue and supporting description in an entry in the comments section of this blog post. The balance between dialogue and supporting description is up to your discretion, bearing in mind that this is a dialogue contest and not a supporting description contest.
b. You may enter once, and once you may enter.
*. Spreading the word about the contest is not only encouraged, it is strongly encouraged.
5. Snarky anonymous comments about entries, the weather, Barbaro the horse, Norman Mailer and/or any other subject will be deleted with relish. This is a free speech zone, or rather the opposite thereof.
f. Against strenuous doctors orders, I will be the sole judge of the contest this time.
T. The deadline for this contest is 5:00 PM Pacific Time on Wednesday May 21st. Finalists will be announced Thursday morning, and you will have the opportunity to vote on the winner, which will be announced on Friday.
PRIZES. The ultimate grand prize deluxe winner will receive the satisfaction of knowing they have written some seriously awesome dialogue, and will have a choice of a query critique, partial critique, or 10 minute phone conversation. Runners-up will receive a query critique or other agreed-upon prize.
Let the dialogue about dialogue begin!
Jen Seegmiller says
“You left me to DIE,” Sarah hissed angrily. “Some Mexican man brought to the hospital while you RAN AWAY and then LIED!”
Scott jumped to his feet and whispered fiercely. “I pulled you back, but you just kept on going. Then you fell. What in the hell did you expect me to do? Jump in the middle of a bunch of armed Mexicans and rescue you?”
“Armed?”
“Yeah, I guess you don’t remember that little detail. After you screamed, I snuck forward to see if I could help. Then I caught a glimpse of a few Uzis and changed my mind.” He justified his actions vehemently.
“That still doesn’t explain the lie. You should’ve reported exactly what you saw so the police could investigate.” She insisted.
“Yeah, well that would’ve just gotten me in more trouble. Before I left, I saw blood all over your head and someone carrying you away. I thought you were dead. It didn’t make much sense to report an accident that happened somewhere we weren’t supposed to be, only to show everyone and then whoops, you’re missing. So I came up with an alternate explanation for your disappearance. At the time, the decision made sense.” He paused. “I’m really glad you’re alive though,” he said as genuinely as he could manage.
“Goodbye Scott,” Sarah said quietly. “Here, take your gift,” she held the delicate bird toward him.
“No, it’s yours. Consider it my apology,” and he strode quickly from the room.
PamH says
“I’ve been waiting up here,” she said through gritted teeth, “pacing the floor, worrying and fretting, and you’ve been sitting around guzzling ale?”
Meyler turned. A waxen paleness replaced the usual ruddiness of his face and spilled ale darkened the tunic below his neck. He looked at her and looked away. “I only had a couple. Just to steady me.”
Her anger died away, a frisson of fear clutching beneath her ribs. She lunged forward and grabbed his arm. “What is it? What did he say?”
“I … I don’t know how to tell you.” Meyler drew his arm away and sank down on his bed. He rubbed his hands together, not looking at her.
“Start with when you met up with Ryatt,” Elica said. She walked over and stood over him. “What did he say to make you need an ale before coming up here?”
“I … I didn’t speak with him.” Elica hissed and he held his hand up. “Wait. Let me finish. I saw your signal and I spotted him. He headed back into the aisles further along, watching you. I didn’t want to corner him around so many people so I headed for the lane of stables. His horse wasn’t in any of them, so I decided to wait for him outside the city and follow him to his camp.” He fell silent, staring at the reddening sky through the window.
“And?” His continued silence unnerved Elica. “Meyler, what happened? Did you follow him?”
His sudden shudder raised goosebumps on Elica’s arms.
Anonymous says
genre: historical fiction (ancient Sparta)
At first, Melaina’s father spoke softly to her mother, exhaustion obvious in his voice. “My leg is fine. You may go.”
“Andreas, she didn’t mean-”
“Leave me, please!” His voice had risen to an angry pitch. “Do not…touch me.”
“But we all know Cleon’s death wasn’t your fault.”
“Know? What do you know, Gaia?”
Melaina peered through the doorway, drawn to the argument ensuing inside. Her father shoved the small table next to his chair, smashing an urn filled with water onto the floor with a splash and a scattering of dark orange pieces.
He stood, more blood dripping down his leg from the freshly washed wound, and his hoarse voice rose to almost a shout. “What do you know of war? Of losing a battle brother?” He turned away and limped to the main table, leaning his arms on it and dropping his head. “What do women know of any of this?”
Melaina’s mother frowned, watching him for a moment, then she strode to him. She took his arm, but he wrenched it away. “Andreas, please…”
Her father didn’t move, didn’t respond.
“You’re right,” her mother said. “I know little of battle. I can only imagine the midst of it must be terrible and frenzied.” Her father let out a breath, and that tiny movement seemed to bolster her mother who again reached out. “But I know my husband.” She caressed his uninjured cheek, and he closed his eyes. “Sit down. Let me dress your leg.”
Stormy says
‘Have your angels embittered you beyond all emotion? I just want-’
‘What you want is a lie. You can’t get back those that have died.’
‘The mirror can do anything.’
‘The fairy tale beast was royalty, the X-Men one was a genius, you’re just a nutcase. She’s dead. I’m very sorry, but she’s dead. Otherwise, you would have found her by now, right? People die. People just die. If you do get your hands on the mirror what you bring back won’t be the person you lost. You’re just trying to delude yourself because you’re scared.’
The monster simply grunted.
‘So what now?’ she asked as she scanned for an exit. ‘You want to fight me?’
‘I want the mirror.’
‘And I want a fucking pony, what’s your point?’
‘You dare compare frivolities to the love of my life?’
‘If you really did love her, you wouldn’t have left her behind. You don’t leave behind people you love. You can’t whinge about your mistake now, you can’t make other people pay for it, and you can’t fool yourself into thinking you’re doing the right thing.’
‘What would you have me do?’
‘Disappear and never come back. I’m all for the Disney aspect of your life, but you’re a danger. Rule of the majority – individuals suffer for the greater good. You might think you’re special, you might even really be special, but that doesn’t matter.’
‘I’m not going to disappear.’
Vince says
“We’re nearing the end, boys. It’s in sight. And I say with absolute confidence, you’ve put yer all in. Your one hundred percent.” He looked them in the eyes. “Pathetic. Pa-thetic. You are without doubt the most miserable, lazy, incompetent bunch of slack-jawed ignorants I have ever had the misfortune to train! Do you get me?”
“We get you sir!” came the chorus.
“You’re the bottom of the barrel, and it sickens me right to my gut to think you’ll be walking in the footsteps of the first five invasions. I’ve seen three hundred recruits through here, God rest their souls, and none of you are fit to lick the moon dust from their boots.”
“Yes sir!”
“But maybe, just maybe, you’ll surprise me. Maybe you won’t find the nearest crater and hide there pissin’ yer pants hoping fer yer mommy to come in her Honda SUV motherfuckin’ spaceship to take you home. It ain’t gonna happen! Do any of you remember why you joined up? Have you forgotten?”
“No sir!”
“Then tell me!”
“The Act of Lunacide, sir!”
“Damn fucking straight. Never forget. As soon we forget, they win. If we even think about forgetting, they win. If we think at all, they win. You get me?”
“We get you sir!” came the chorus.
“Never forget Black November.”
“Never forget!” they shouted.
“Remember Omaha! Remember San Diego!”
“Huyeah!” they shouted.
“Remember Norfolk!” a recruit screamed out.
“Huyeah!”
“Remember Paris!” Bobby yelled.
“Shut yer God damn yap boy!”
“Yessir!”
midnight oil says
Time to de-lurk again, thanks Nathan and good luck to all!!!
Cammina let out a string of curses that made them all wince, turned her horse and started for the rally point. Caleb ran until he caught up with her.
“What did I do wrong?”
“You could have gotten killed, why didn’t you use your bow?”
“I have not made any arrows yet and I just wanted to help.”
“You could have gotten killed, how would that have helped? Your shoulder is bleeding.”
Surprised to find that she was right about his shoulder, “I guess the big one got a little closer than I thought.”
“No you think? When we get to the rally point I’ll clean that and then we can cure the meat.”
“At least you know with me you will not go hungry.”
“And a fat lot of good that does for me, yes? What if my food decides to kill you, before you kill it?”
“It takes a lot more than that, I’ve been close to death before, I scared him and he threw me back. Besides for me to take care of you, my life would be a small price to pay.”
Jodi says
From my MG fantasy:
A few steps away, a mustard-coloured ball of fuzz with a head like mashed potato huddled behind a stick-thin sapling. Its eyes were scrunched like paper spit balls on a face punctured by a gummy grin.
Hoping the monster hadn’t noticed her, Rylee edged back. Quietly. Something needled her in the leg. A scream caught in her throat.
“It’s only me,” Susie whispered.
Rylee towered over her, glaring until the whites of Susie’s eyes quivered. “Where were you?”
“Shhh. He’ll hear you.”
Rylee dipped her gaze towards the monster. “That’s a he?”
“He’s hiding.”
“Hiding? From what?”
“Us.”
“That tree wouldn’t hide an ant. I can see him.”
“He doesn’t know that. His eyes are closed. We have the advantage.” Susie held her skirt to her legs and tiptoed to the monster’s side.
His body wobbled; his tummy groaned. Pfft. Pfft. Phhhhffft.
Susie pinched her nose and tapped the monster’s shoulder. A stench fouler than a wet dog choked the air.
The monster’s eyes shot open. His spindly hands masked his face. With one leg outstretched, he dropped to the ground and somersaulted backwards. “Yaaahiiii!”
Rylee hiccupped with a mixture of screeching and laughter.
Susie clapped her hands. “Found you, bubble butt.”
The monster blinked, first at Rylee, then at Susie. His toothless smile returned. “Well, evening of so good to you.” He swayed his head towards his hiding spot. “Good be this tree to be hiding me.”
Erin Miller says
~It’s the night before Valentine’s Day.~
“Who was that?” Genna asked as Dolf turned around. “Katie?”
“No?” He asked it like a question, the bastard. “Why, are you jealous?”
“Should I be?”
“I didn’t think you cared, Genna. I never thought you were the jealous type. You hated that in Kyle.”
“I’m not jealous,” Genna said. “I’m just your stand-in girlfriend.”
“Is that what you are? I’d never call you my girlfriend,” Dolf said. “It’s the sex, isn’t it. You think we’re in a relationship because of the sex.”
“Did you buy Sammy flowers?” Genna felt hot all over; even her hands ached from the heat flowing through them.
“Not yet. I was going to buy her some white carnations tomorrow for running the flower booth.”
“Let me guess. Katie got roses.”
“Why does it matter?”
“Because I started this group, that’s why.” Her voice cracked. Her face was so hot that she hadn’t noticed the warm rivers of tears.
“Yes, you did. I would never take that from you.” Dolf kissed the top of her head. “Is it lack of sex? Do we need to fuck on this to make you feel better?”
“Fuck on this? What, like a handshake? Is that all sex is to you?” Genna pushed him away. “You can keep your damn flowers.”
Brigid says
“I get it.” Jack leaned back in his chair and folded his arms, aggravation plain on his face. “You think I’m bitter? That I haven’t given up the ghost? You’ve got some romance novel thing going through your head? Is that it?”
Sarah felt a frown pull at her lips. Her eyes shifted to his ring before she could stop them.
He followed her gaze and placed his left hand on the table, splaying his fingers. His voice was quieter, raw and edged. “I remember everything about her, even five years later. I don’t need a ring for that.”
Sarah was frozen in place, chained by his emotion.
“She deserved better,” he said, and his voice was oddly flat. “I knew it then, and I couldn’t help myself.” His tone twisted, becoming almost cruel. “She probably should have been cheating on me. She might be alive if she had.”
Abruptly, he shoved his chair back. “I should have left it at your apology. I thought—well, that was more for your sake, anyway, wasn’t it?”
She jerked as if he’d hit her.
He rose from his chair, leaning down with tight hands against the table. “I wear it as a warning to myself.” He paused, and the streetlight found flecks of silver in his eyes. “It has nothing to do with her. Nothing.”
“A warning,” she whispered.
“Yeah, a warning.” He flung the chair in against the table, a scrape of metal against stone. “Don’t fucking do it again.”
Cassandra says
Neon lights from the building across the street illuminated her thrift store furniture and ripped sofa cushions.
“Nice place you’ve got here, Frankie.” Sarcasm rolled off his tongue.
Still the same arrogant prick she’d known five years ago. Any pity she might have felt for him vanished.
“Francesca,” she corrected, pulling the knife from behind her back. She sat down sideways in the recliner, one leg hooked over the armrest.
She pretended to pick dirt from under her nails. “You have a reason for stopping by?”
“Is that any way to treat an old friend?”
“We were friends?”
“Once upon a time, I thought we were more.”
“I thought a lot of things back then. None of which were true.” What the hell was he up to? Not forgiveness. She couldn’t spare any…for him or herself.
“I did what I had to do in order to save the team.”
“To save yourself, you mean.” She’d heard enough. Casual pose forgotten, she blurred in a flash of movement, blade poised to slice. “Tell me another one, Brody. I like how you’re always the self-sacrificing hero in all your stories.”
He went still. “If you kill me, you won’t find out why I’m here.”
“True. Plus, I’d have to clean up the mess.” She eased back, her point made.
“You haven’t changed much.”
“Neither have you. Tell me something, Brody. Can a leopard change his spots?”
“He can…if you give him a reason.“
JES says
“Tell me about the night he escaped,” Jay said as they stood in the control room. “Outside the blackout period, were any cameras showing his room, inside or out?”
Wozzack leaned forward. “Yeah,” he said, tapping something into a keyboard. “This one.” The scene in one of the monitors changed to show a cell door across which yellow crime-scene tape had been stretched.
“Anything special about that camera you can tell me? Where it’s placed, who made it, how old it is, who was on duty in the hall there that night, anything?”
“Nah.” The guard paused for a moment, seeming to bite back something he’d been about to say. “Nah, nothin’ like that. Just a camera. Fastened in place, don’t even rotate or nothin’.
“I was already in bed. Don’t know much about what happened, tell you the truth. Asleep. And then all the lights came on and that goddam music started up. They didn’t train us for that kind of shit. People yelling, bumping into walls. Even the fucking flashlights out. Like that.”
Jay nodded sympathetically. “Yeah. Confusing. You were probably one of the lucky ones, being asleep. Nobody expected you to be on the job.”
“You mean by that? I got up, got dressed, ran into just as many walls and tripped over just as many assholes in the dark as the next guy.”
“Don’t worry, I’m not saying anything about you, Stan, not accusing you or anything. I’m not investigating you.”
Lane says
“I ain’t kidding, Phillip!” she continued from the closet. “This ain’t funny!”
“Don’t you worry, sweet cheeks. You’ll get your turn when I’m done with your boyfriend here.”
Jesse kicked the door.
“I warned you after the last time,” I pulled out a smoke and lit it. “I told you there’d be hell to pay.”
“Damn it, Phillip!” Kick. “Let me out right now!” Kick. Kick.
“Darlin’, you’re gonna break that pretty little foot of yours,” I warned her.
Crumly looked up at me as I puffed away on my Chesterfield. Blood streamed down his cheek and dripped on his bare leg.
“You like messing with other people’s wives?” I got up about two inches from his face and stared him in the eyes.
“I didn’t know she was married,” he winced.
I knew he was lying, though. Hell, she still had her wedding ring on.
I looked down where his little frank and beans were bunched up on top of his legs.
I puffed the cigarette again.
His eyes grew wide as I lowered that cigarette.
Maddog says
For his part, Dramor had proven very aggressive in the pursuit of his duties and seemed to enjoy running headlong into every group of orcs they had encountered. Tana has somehow fallen into the role of leader of the group in no small part due to her ability to explain tactics to the stout broad shouldered mountain man.
“But if I be in the middle of the bast… orcs, beggin’ your pardon miss… why can I not jus’ tear ’em all new ones?” The puzzled look on his rough features made Tana smile in spite of her mood.
“If they have one of the demon bloods with them, Dramor, you would be killed. There is no reason to think they wouldn’t have a leader with them and you have not seen what those creatures can do.” Tana kept her face deadly serious while Dramor turned her words over in his head.
“Ya do got me there, I must admit. I hadn’ laid me eyes to ’em biggun’ orcs yet and jus’ got ta trust those that had.” He thought a bit longer then his heavy dark brown eyebrows shot up. ” I gots a answer to the troubles, I be thinkin’. I can make like runnin’ to ’em and the rest’ll hold there in the trees. Ifn’ I see a biggun’ in the bast… orcs, I mean… then I can drag ’em chasin’ me to ya here. That’ll work!”
James Goodman, Author says
“What’s so funny?” Harold asked hesitantly.
“So, what you are saying is that you had a team of people go through the bible and interpret meanings from scriptures that would further your cause.”
“We took no more liberties with the translations than the King James Version did.”
“I’m not saying you did, but we both know an interpretation is nothing more than one person’s view of what a passage is supposed to mean.”
“But it’s still the word of God. Surely, you—”
“No, it’s man’s word. God has never put pen to paper. Every bit of scripture ever written was done so by a man.”
“Not just men, but men with a vision,” Harold insisted. “These words may not be directly from God’s hand, but they were clearly written by men who felt his presence.”
“They were still men with an agenda. They preyed on man’s fear of the unknown to coerce him into living what they felt was a moral life. They were nothing more than con-artists with great writing skills.”
“How can you say such a thing? Jesus Christ, the son of God himself, died for you and you dismiss such an act as nothing more than a con?”
Kyle laughed. “He didn’t die for me. He died because he pissed off the wrong people and didn’t know how to talk his way out of it.”
“Sir, I will not sit here and subject myself to such blasphemy any longer,” Harold said, rising from his seat.
Leo says
‘Don’t jump!’ he yelled.
His voice carried just enough over the roar of the waterfall. Startled, the girl swayed upon the precipice, arms extended, toes curling around the very edge.
‘Don’t!’
Collin could see her clenched fist. She still had the stone. After all these months, it was finally before him. And on top of a cliff.
Swearing inwardly, he darted forward. He did not make two steps before the girl regained her balance. Her head shot towards him, eyes red with tears. ‘Stop!’
He froze. ‘Take it easy.’
‘Don’t come any closer,’ she shouted, her voice shaking.
‘OK.’
They stared at each other. A moment passed. Collin never was good with women.
‘What do you want?’ she asked.
‘For you to step back.’
‘Why?’
‘I don’t want you to die.’
‘Why? I don’t know you.’
He hesitated. ‘You are too young.’
She sobbed then, pitifully. She really was young. And so pretty.
‘I’m dead anyway. They’ll kill me for the emerald.’
‘Then let them have it.’
‘I’m a witness.’
Collin licked his lips. ‘I can help. I live nearby.’
She straightened up, her eyes narrowing.
‘Got a car?’
‘Yes.’
‘We can make it to town…’
‘Yes. Come.’
She seemed to relax. He closed the distance.
‘They killed Jonathon,’ she gasped. ‘They killed my brother.’
‘I know,’ he replied. He stepped up behind her on the edge, snatched her wrist with one hand and prised
the stone from her palm with the other. ‘I did it.’
Stephanie Secrest says
“Oooh, mint,” the redhead says suggestively as she thrusts a bright blue box in Grant’s face, then she sees me and asks, controlling her drunken slur, “What are you getting?”
I hold up the box of condoms and give a fake smile, like I’m doing a TV commercial. Buy Trojan Magnums! So large you won’t be able to get him inside you! Grant arches his brow.
“Magnum?” the redhead asks. “Are you serious? I’ve never known anyone who’d wear a Magnum before.”
“Absolutely. He’s at the checkout as we speak.”
She glances toward the front of the store, and it’s so obvious she’s torn between the supposed averageness of Grant and the supposed hugeness of my jerkwad soon-to-be-ex fiancé.
“Dan’s here?” Grant whispers.
I nod. “You’re getting mint, huh?” I pluck the box out of the redhead’s hand, and say, while looking at Grant, “I like mint.”
“I need to go look at cosmetics,” the redhead announces, distracted.
“Yeah, you go do that,” Grant says. She grins, kisses him on the cheek, and practically skips off. “You know, Magnums are the same size as normal condoms.”
“She obviously doesn’t know that,” I say, examining the mint condom box. “It smells and tastes like mint?”
“She was my date, and I wouldn’t know personally.”
“She isn’t very loyal. I did you a favor. Why would you want to suck on latex?”
“Some women don’t like to swallow.”
“I do.” I toss the box back to Grant. He misses.
Sophie W. says
Rich brought me to meet Mom. He was sitting on the end of a table, looking at something in his hands. It turned out to be a pack of cards.
“Hey,” Mom said. He had this shaggy cut and wore a red and brown Commie hat.
“Hi.”
“You’re new?”
“Yeah, sure, I’m new,” I said, sitting next to him.
The card on the front of his deck was the queen of hearts. He handed it to me. “So what is it?”
“What?”
“Hallucination? Dream? Acid trip? What?”
“Dream.”
“You sure you don’t want to change that to acid trip? Dream is kind of lame.” He handed me the four of clubs.
“I think I’ll stick with dream,” I said. “What are you doing?”
“Practicing.” He raised the deck to eye-level and flicked it with his index finger, pulled two cards off of the top. They were the queen of hearts and the four of clubs.
I looked at my hands. The cards were still there.
“How did–“
“Practice.”
I stared at him. Then at the cards. “Where did you say I was?”
“Limbo. Didn’t anyone tell you?”
“Limbo.” I said. “So, not Heaven? You sure?”
Mom grinned. “You see any angels?”
“No. I don’t see Jesus, either.”
blooker says
“You’ll be worked to death and there’s not an indignity you won’t suffer. You’ll be here sixty hours a week without a weekend or holiday off. Some nights we stay open until midnight and if you dodge even one day, you’re fired. You come to work with the smell of liquor on your breath; you’re fired. You get caught smoking weed or using nose candy; you’re fired. You come to work late; you’re fired. If a customer says something is your fault, then it’s your fault. Salesmen are automatically wrong, so if a manager tells you to, you will immediately apologize to the customer or you’ll be fired. You steal anything, anything at all; you’re fired. You piss off customers; you’re fired. You don’t hit your numbers; you’re fired. Do you think you can handle all of that?”
“Yes sir,” Jim answered instantly. “Like I said, I need the money. I’m broke. Stoney.”
“Good. When can you start?”
“Right now. This second.”
The big man smiled and then slowly leaned back in his chair. “That was the correct answer. Any other answer would have seen your ass thrown out the door.”
Kat Harris says
“Did you mean what you said the other night…when you told me you loved me?”
Nick knew she would ask. He couldn’t deny it. “Yeah, I did.”
Heather’s embrace offered bitter comfort. It killed him to find solace in her arms when he teetered on the brink of marrying another.
“Would you have let me make love to you?” As bold as it sounded, he needed to know.
She released him. “Then? Probably,” she said. “But not now.”
Nick figured as much. “That’s why I didn’t push it. I don’t want there to be any regret when you and I make love.”
Heather closed her eyes, turned her head as if he had slapped her. “When?” Her voice pitched in resentment. “Nico, you’re getting married, and when that happens, you and I will just be members of the same band.”
Nick reached for her hand. “Baby, I …”
“Stop it, Nico.” She pulled away and allowed the tears to slide down her cheeks. “You have to make up your mind. If you love her then you need to quit reaching for me.”
“I can’t, baby,” he admitted. “I love you . . . and that little boy upstairs. I want to be part of your lives, but I don’t know what to do.”
His confession stunned her. She swept the water from her face and sniffed back the indignation. “There’s only one thing you can do, Nico.” Heather backed away. “It’s up to you to take the first step.”
Miss Viola Bookworm says
“Hey,” I stammered, trying not to stare at his hair…or the lack of it. “You um…shaved your head?”
He shrugged and smiled, blushing as he ran his hand over the stubble.
“Yeah. I was going to dye it, but then I thought I might just get rid of it. For fun.”
I reached up to touch his head. “May I?”
“Sure. Give it a feel. See what you think.”
I ran my hand over his head in a circle, staring into his eyes. He looked different without his perfect messy mop of gold waves dangling in his face, but he was still Emerson to me. I couldn’t help but smile.
“I like it.”
His eyebrows went up. “Really?”
“You look good.”
He came closer and put his hands on my waist, then pulled me to him, wrapping his arms around me. I buried my face in his neck, breathing in the smell of sweat and sunscreen. We said nothing for a minute as we held each other in the middle of the cheering crowd. He kissed my forehead, and I finally looked up at him. The crowd roared as he spoke, so I couldn’t hear him, but I could read his lips as he said, “I’ve missed you.”
I wiped a tear off my cheek and looked at the ground. “I’ve missed you too.”
ICQB says
“Dude, I knew you couldn’t hold out for long!” Brent said. “When can you come over?”
“Well not now.” Zach balanced the phone between his ear and shoulder, ready to dig into a bowl of corn flakes on the table in front of him, “I have to do some work on that history paper and I have to take Sparky for a walk and my little sister has a recital tonight I have to go to.”
“Okay, tomorrow then, right after school.”
“Crunch, crunch, crunch.”
“Hey, man, what’s that?”
“Ihm eenig cohn flks. Crunch, crunch.”
“Oh. Hey, what topic did you draw for the history paper?”
Zach swallowed. “The history of the clock tower and the public green downtown.”
“I drew Oppenheim Park.” Brent said. Zach could hear cereal being poured into a bowl in the background.
“Speaking of which,” Zach said, “crunch, crunch, ah meht dish ahwshom chick, crunch, there today, swallow.”
“Crunch, crunch, rheally?”
“Yeah, and I’m thinking maybe I’ll see if I can change my paper topic to the history of SRA. Crunch, crunch, crunch.”
“Whai? Crunch, crunch”
“Slurruup. ‘Cause this girl goes there. Maybe she knows some stuff about the history. Anyway, good excuse to get her number.”
“Mmhmf, swallow. What’s her name?”
“Cara.”
“And?”
“She’s hot.”
“Smooth, dude. So, tomorrow after school?”
“Tomorrow after school.”
Anonymous says
“Josef?” The man wiped rain from his eyes and forehead.
“No, Dr. Bates, my name is Saif. You might say I’m Josef’s boss. I have made the trip myself to see you.” Saif casually flicked rain from his overcoat as he stared at
Dr. Bates with sharp, calculating eyes.
“But, I was supposed to meet Josef.”
“Let’s just say Josef was demoted. You will deal directly with me now.”
“Look, I know what you want. I told Josef, six grams was the best I could do.”
Bates’ voice wavered. “After 9/11, security got tight. I almost got caught.”
“You promised us four hundred grams. We paid for four hundred grams. You appear nervous, Dr. Bates.
Bates’ eyes widened as Saif’s hand disappeared into his overcoat. “Look, if this
is about the money–oh please God, don’t kill me. I can get it back.”
“Shut up, you fool.” Saif pulled his hand free from the overcoat holding a white envelope with an address scribbled on the front. “You see what I have here, Doctor? There’s a gram of anthrax in here–anthrax you supplied–with a letter naming you as our supplier. The handwriting will match the letters sent to the senators. That will be the first phase of your demise, unless you cooperate.”
“I’ll do whatever you want.”
“Yes, you will, and here’s another reason why.” Saif picked up a small digital camcorder from the floor in front of him. “Do you know where that pretty blond wife of yours is tonight?”
Kyle says
Holly went back into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. I reached down and cupped my hands around Emmylou’s head and nuzzled her chin. “You little bitch,” I said. I looked up at the bathroom door. “By the Light of Future Events sold out of its first print run.”
“Really?” The closed door stifled the sound of her voice, making it seem distant. “Dave, that’s great. Tate must be excited.”
“It was a great day.”
“I can imagine,” she said. The toilet flushed, and the door reopened and she stood holding it. “Now what happens?”
“Print run number two, more sales.”
“Who would’ve thought that book would sell so well?” she said. Of all the books Firelight has published, By the Light of Future Events was Holly’s least favorite. If I’d wanted a lecture, she’d told me after she read the book, I would have taken a class.
“You don’t like Sci-Fi,” I said, “but a lot of people do.”
She was back at the sink. “At least 5,000 must.”
“I’m glad you’re not our target audience.”
“Me too.”
I noticed a small package on the dresser. It was wrapped neatly and tied with a little green bow. I stood and picked it up. It wasn’t heavy, but there was a slight heft to it nevertheless, as if inside it contained nothing more than a wristwatch in a plastic case. After thinking about it for a moment I decided that’s what it was.
I held it up. “What’s this?”
Anonymous says
John dies, returns but his body’s gone. Here he’s looking for his body at a wake, encounters ‘deceased’, an old woman:
“My sister is going to steal those pearls before they shut the lid. You watch.”
John glanced to his right. “Beloved Grandmother” was visible through her torso.
“She’s a greedy old biddy. I heard her arguing with my daughter about them, and right in front of the funeral director! How embarrassing! What must he think?”
“Have you seen my body, by any chance?” John blurted out.
“You’re not dead, how could I have seen your body?”
Apparently you could still roll your eyes after you were dead but the effect lost something when you were only semi-transparent.
“How do you know I’m not dead?” John asked.
“Just because I’m dead doesn’t mean I’m stupid, young man. And what are you doing out of your body? Get back in it this instant, you’re starting to give me the creeps.” She edged away from him.
“I don’t understand, what’s going on?”
She turned up her nose at him. “You’re not normal, just go away.”
John opened his mouth to protest then gave it up. “Okay, if I’m not dead, how come you can see me and I can see you?”
“How should I know? Being dead doesn’t make you omniscient.” Mourners had started to come up to the casket. “Now go away, I want to hear what everyone says about me and I can’t listen to you at the same time.”
CJTRAPP says
From “The Legend of Sleepy Valley”
They reached the dining car and the steward held the door open for Jake. CJ and Lilly giggled and pointed from a nearby booth.
Jake checked his fly. “What?”
CJ and Lilly’s faces swelled then burst a spitty giggle. “Nothing”
Jake glared.
“You are always grumpy in the morning.” Lilly bopped.
“So.”
Jake plopped down across from them just as the steward clunked a mug and plate onto the table. “Your cocoa and toast, sir.”
CJ and Lilly laughed and hid themselves down in the booth so only the blonde tops of their heads were visible. Jake gave an apologetic glance to the steward, this time for the kid’s goofiness. Again… no forgiveness.
Jake whisper-yelled across the table. “Would you two sit up… So it’s raisin toast – big deal – it’s not like everything in Sleepy Valley is going to be made of raisins.”
CJ hoisted himself up. “What’s your problem, bro? We’re the only ones on this stupid train.”
Jake tried to summon his father’s sternness. “I am the oldest… you need to listen to me.”
“Nuh-uh, we need to listen to Mimi and Pop,” Lilly said.
“Mimi and Pop aren’t even… Forget it.” Jake pushed his raisin toast aside and sipped his cocoa.
CJ snatched a piece of the rejected toast. “Why do you hate raisins so much anyway?”
“Because they’re grapes with the life sucked out of them, that’s why.”
“Well I know exactly how they feel.” Lilly chimed. “They must have jerky older brothers.”
Chris says
“Is there any reason I shouldn’t chuck you out, Webster?” Maddie hadn’t woken up in a good mood.
“I’m lovable and fun to be with?” I had barely woken up at all. I sat at the kitchen table and asked myself why I wasn’t in bed.
“You’re a selfish bastard who likes taking advantage of his friends.” She put a cup of coffee in front of me on the table. At least she hadn’t dumped it into my lap.
“Are we friends then?” That was a start, at least. I wasn’t sure what we were, other than awkward roommates.
She looked at me with her pale blue eyes. “If we weren’t friends, I’d have killed you when I found my bathroom covered in blood last night. As a good friend, I’m going to let you prove your repentance by cleaning it all up.” She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “And my food mixer. It can’t go in the dishwasher, you know.”
She downed the rest of her coffee in a single gulp. “I’m going out, I’ll be back at noon. If this place isn’t cleared up, then I’ll think about brutally murdering you. If it’s spick and span, we can talk about last night, and the future.”
“We have a future?”
“Maybe. I’ve got to go. See you later.” She turned at the door. “Don’t forget: tidy apartment or brutal murder. I picked out a spot four years ago, you know. For your shallow grave.”
She turned and left. I believed her about the shallow grave.
Margosita says
Word count: Exactly 250!
—
“Do you feel we’re making progress?” Dr. Warner wanted to know. It was raining and Lo was watching water slide down the window behind him.
“Making progress toward what?”
“Our goals. Do you feel that we’re closer to our objective?”
“What’s your objective?”
“Our objective,” he corrected her. “We want to make things better. Remember, we are like spiders on a web of our emotions and experiences. Right now you are caught. Stuck. We want to untangle you a bit. You need to control your web, not fall victim to it.”
“I’m not tangled.” She paused, sliding down in her seat. “You might be stuck, but I’m fine.”
“Do you feel ready for school to start again?” Dr. Warner tried again. “I know you didn’t have a good year, last year.”
“I guess so.”
“How are the boys in your school? Maybe there’s one that makes you feel different? Inside? Maybe nervous or happy?”
“Some of them make me want to vomit more than the others. Like that, you mean?”
“Are you excited to be starting at Kennedy?”
“It’ll be nice not to have to wear a uniform.”
“You’d like to express yourself more?” Lo nodded although it was a lie.
“You have a chance to be whoever you want to be, I think. At Kennedy.” Lo nodded again and when Dr. Warner’s eyes remained narrowed she sighed and agreed.
“Yeah, I know.” Dr Warner didn’t seem convinced.
“Remember, these are just ideas, Loraine. These are ways to untangle yourself.”
sharonkatherine says
Hey, Hollywood.” Despite the walking cast on her left leg, Claire Kincaid started dancing in place as Kate jogged over to join her. Swept into an exuberant hug more appropriate for a reunion after years of separation instead of a few weeks, Kate grinned. That was Claire. Nothing less than 200%.
“How’s the leg?” she asked when she finally disentangled..
“A pain in the ass. Literally.” Claire thumped a small fist on the cast. “Do you know how hard it is to sit or sleep with this? And no pants will fit over it.” She frowned at Kate. “Those jeans are fab. Where did you get them?”
Kate shrugged, shopping was way down her list of fun excursions. “You can have them. I have more.”
“Oh, sure, like I could squeeze my butt into something of yours.” Claire shook her head. “I’ve probably gained twenty pounds since I broke my ankle. I’m afraid to get on the scales.”
“You look great. Why do you and Mom obsess over every calorie.”
“Because, unlike you, we have DNA cells that attract every food morsel straight to the hips. Better question: How do you stay skinny as a snake? “
“Guess I took after Daddy’s side of the family.” Which, of course, was true. Her red hair, pale skin and freckles were pure O’Donnell. So were the lanky body, southpaw and quick temper. “New shoes?” she asked, changing the subject.
Jay Young says
“’Lo.”
“Hey dude, it’s me.”
“Hey. What’s up?”
“Hey, question for ya. What’s the best conversation we’ve ever had?”
“The hell are you talking about?”
“It’s for a writing thing. I need to write some good dialogue.”
“So write some.”
“C’mon dude, I know we’ve had a million great conversations over the years.”
“Yeah, like this one.”
“What about that conversation we had last Summer? Remember you came back to town for your aunt’s funeral and we sat in your car and got high that night? That was fuckin’ awesome.”
“I remember laughing a lot but I don’t remember anything particularly awesome.”
“What were we talking about? I was trying to remember.”
“We were talking about how stupid carrots look with their ridges and bulges and crappy color.”
“Really? That’s … no, I remember there was this one really deep line.”
“You said carrots were ugly because they grew so shallow in the ground and I said that was a deep thought and it totally blew your mind. You were like amazed.”
“Really? But … that’s so stupid.”
“Well, we were really high.”
“Damn it. Well this sucks.”
“So are you gonna use this call as your writing thing?”
“Fuck no. I’ll think of something good.”
Vieva says
“Things aren’t going to go well if we start off fighting. Are you sure you want to start like this?”
“I don’t. But I want to be dead even less than that. If you’re not going to let me do my job, we’re going to fight about it. Might as well start off as we’ll go.”
He waved that off. “You do realize no one’s going to try to attack me, don’t you? I’m the wizard prince. I don’t need even a girl bodyguard. Your life is safe.”
She gritted her teeth. “I am a real bodyguard,” she snarled through them, “and I am going to take your security seriously even if you refuse to. That’s my job. If you don’t like it, that’s your problem and not mine.”
He barked a laugh. “Fine. Be that way. But I hope you’re not disappointed when absolutely nothing happens.”
“I’ll be thrilled when nothing happens. As long as nothing happens, you’re alive and I’m doing my job. Which reminds me, I need to know anyone that you allow and expect to be here and what times they show up. I’ve got the list of servants and your family. What I need to know is who else is expected.”
“So you can report to my father and brothers whether their brother actually sees women or not? I don’t think so.”
“If you don’t want someone to end up with a knife in them, I suggest you tell me who you expect and when.”
crabsushi says
“At least he’s actually trying. He even put forth an extra effort by signing up for these summer classes.”
“You mean at least he actually goes to school,” Andrew said. “We’ve had this argument before. You and I both know he isn’t really trying, unless you’re too blind to see the crowd he runs with. He’s on his way down and out as soon as he finds the right trapdoor to fall through.”
“How can you sound so pleased by that?” she demanded.
“Why shouldn’t I?”
“Don’t drag him down with you.”
“I’m not doing anything to him,” he pointed out. “I don’t have to. It’s the same with every other student in that building. You knew they would be lost causes the second you agreed to take a post in such a bad neighborhood. What satisfaction do you get out of watching your efforts fail time and time again?”
“What satisfaction do you derive from going absolutely nowhere in life?”
Andrew considered that for a moment, tilting his head to one side in thought. “Amusement,” he said at last. “An insatiable sort of amusement at watching people like you try to make me change and fail, at dealing with people like you who think your words and your dreams mean absolutely anything to me. Your disgust and your pity are like nicotine, teacher; they’re just another addiction. I love watching you fail. You’ll hit the ground far harder than I ever will.”
Bob Gilbert says
The Shady Elders of Zion
They’d light candles, burn incense, drink, talk, look at dirty magazines, get horny, dance, confess, get mushy and finally make love.
Can you think of anything better to do on a night when the thermometer was in single digits? It heartened me just thinking about it. But not my shady comrade.
“Singer,” said I, “you look like you just bit into a lemon. What’s the matter?”
“What is this wild goose chase? Why is she’s taking him into the woods during a snowstorm? Who is more meshugennah, she for taking him or him for going along?”
“They’re going into the woods, what’s the big deal?” I answered.
“What is the future of a relationship like this?” asked Himmelman. “Such sloth is unbecoming a Jew.”
“Unbecoming a Jew?” I repeated with a tone of disbelief. “Himmelman, let me tell you something. In the last half of the 20th century nobody wanted to be a Jew. They just want to live their lives unencumbered by their Semitic baggage.”
“That’s baloney, Kalinsky. If Bronstein didn’t want to be a Jew he could have requested that he come into this life as a Presbyterian. But no, he chose Jew and a Jew he must be. That he sets such low standards for himself bothers me.”
eCommunicator says
“Yes”, responded LiWeng, “I am a dictator. My father was a dictator and I was always expected to follow in the family business. From the moment of my birth, I was taught how to be a dictator. I was educated at Harvard and Eaton to gain the knowledge of a dictator. Right now this country can not survive under any other type of government”.
Lord Brentford was visibly startled by LiWengs response to his question. “Oh, Mr. President, I certainly didn’t mean to imply…”
“Don’t fret your lordship”, LiWeng politely interrupted, “there is no guilt, no self-righteousness or self-delusion. I don’t think I am divine, the chosen one, destined…this country is a business and I am its managing director.”
“Well, of course, my family has some knowledge of ultimate power,” stated Lord Brentford as he nervously brought the cut crystal glass of brandy to his lips. He relaxed just slightly as LiWeng feinted a brief smile. “My ancestors fought in the Crusades and the family has been a staunch defender of the monarchy.”
“Rule Britannia” voiced LiWeng as he casually pulled the small frame Gloc automatic out of his trouser pocket, aimed it at Lord Brentford’s forehead – and fired.
writtenwyrdd says
“Don’t you raise your filthy hand to me, witch,” snarled Claude Masterson. He spat, striking Drusha on the cheek.
The hot globule slid down her collar to pool against her collarbone. She stared at him, rigid with suppressing the urge to sink fangs into his throat.
Tellman grabbed the old man and muscled his raised fist behind his back, lifting the old guy up on his toes.
“Enough of that,” Tellman began.
Drusha interrupted. “It’s alright, Officer. He hasn’t done me any lasting harm.”
Tellman looked between them, frowning. After a moment, he nodded. Then the cop shoved the hunter so he staggered back a pace. “Don’t threaten the Envoy again. Don’t you know it’s a death warrant, you old fool?”
The old man sneered. “She is a demoness from beyond that Hell Gate. Let the scales fall from your eyes, Brother, and be saved.”
“I don’t think so, but thank you for the thought. Now go over by the cruiser and wait for your boss.”
Drusha stared at the gnarled old man who smelled to her of rotted teeth and the underlying sweetness of the diabetic. Disgust warred with a dried up version of pity. She’d apparently gotten tired of just loathing the man’s misguided hatred.
“Mr. Masterson. A moment, please.”
The Hunter’s shoulders hitched as if she’d offered him violence. But he turned and watched her through narrowed eyes.
“Your kidneys are failing. You should see a doctor,” she stated.
Jael says
“Luke, how is it that I can help you? Forget your password? Need me to set up personal folders? I hope you don’t want to do anything fancy. The labs got upgraded for show but the nerve center still runs on hamsters. Progress around here, Lord love a duck, is downright glacial.”
Luke has never been able to accept “glacial” at face value, not since he went to the Matterhorn with Lucy on their honeymoon. He saw the glacier there, jagged and terribly blue at the core. He’d just read Frankenstein and couldn’t help but imagine the monster bounding over that glacier, as Mary Shelley described it, leaping over the deep frozen blue chasms one by one. He can’t possibly articulate this to Emma. It would be such an English teacher thing to say.
Instead he says, “It doesn’t seem so glacial to me.”
“That’s because you don’t know any better,” Emma says, matter-of-factly. “We’re running the Preakness on a German Shepherd. So tell me what you need. Is it E-mail related?”
“Yes,” he says, “but not mine.”
“Someone else’s E-mail? I can’t do that.”
“It’s a special case.”
“Dying wish? Or subpoena? Those are pretty much my two conditions. Either would work. Both, actually, would be best.”
“Mercer Pershing,” he says, to see the effect the name has on her.
It stops her for a moment, although it doesn’t bowl her over totally. She is, on some level, prepared.
“Interesting,” she says.
Sassee B says
They’re sleeping in a truck:
The rest of my night was filled with memories of blood and death, of teeth and claws. Needless to say, I didn’t get much sleep.
Though I must have been more out of it than I realized, because I woke up with a ball of fur curled at my feet, one that growled when I lifted my head.
Broken Nose. Of course. I pulled the blanket over my head and turned on my side.
He made gross popping and tearing noises as he shifted forms. Clawed hands placed themselves on either side of me and he made his best attempt at smothering me over the blanket.
“Get. Off.”
“The locals took a lot of interest in you last night.”
“Don’t care.”
“They were going to mug you.”
“Still not caring.”
“One of them was a werewolf.”
I peeked out from under the blanket. He used the opportunity to shove his muzzle in my face, that wet nose smearing across my forehead.
“So what did you do, protect me all night?”
“Not all night.”
“How chivalrous of you.”
“Chivalry had nothing to do with it.”
“Can you pretend to be chivalrous for a few more hours so I can get some sleep?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
He nodded in a general it’s-behind-you motion. “I don’t think they’d like that very much.”
Heather Wardell says
Aaron said, “Excuse me, did you just admit to an emotion? In public? Who are you and what have you done with MC?”
“Maybe,” I said, grinning. I had done it to see if I could, and it hadn’t been all that bad. “Want another one?”
Even Dean laughed. “What have you done to her, Aaron?”
“I haf creatid a monster,” he said.
“Nice Australian accent,” Greg said, and Aaron punched him on the arm. “Shh, I want to hear another one.”
I made them wait a second before saying, “We won the exile contest.”
Four of them cheered, but Aaron cut his short to say, “Technically, that’s not an emotion.”
“It is in here,” I said, pressing my hand to my heart. “It’s a happy one.”
“Let me feel,” he said.
I slapped his hand away just before he reached me, laughing. “You’ll feel more than an emotion if you touch me there.”
I’d said it all wrong, and of course he picked up on it. “I know that, baby, that’s why I want to feel it.”
“No, I meant you’d feel pain right after you touched me.”
“It’d be worth it,” he said, stretching his arms toward me and wiggling his fingers.
—
And ‘zesty randomness’ is my new catchphrase. 🙂
L.K. Campbell says
“I knew it was only a matter of time before you came,” Joe said.
“Don’t get too excited,” Jess said. “I’m here about Andy.”
“Yeah, I heard he got arrested. I can’t believe Andy was the one who shot me.”
“I don’t either,” she said. “Have the police talked to you?”
“They don’t have any evidence that he was involved in the shooting. But I’m wondering why you’re jumping to his defense,” Joe said. “He was picked up for mailing obscene material to you.”
“That’s right,” she said. “He mailed it but not for the reason you might think.”
“What other reason would a man have for mailing obscene material to a woman?”
“He mailed it to me so no one else would see it. I didn’t know that and turned it over to the police.”
“What exactly did Andy send you?”
She swallowed back the lump in her throat. “Recordings of you and me. In your office. Having sex.”
“How the hell did he get recordings of us?”
His blood pressure monitor let out a succession of loud beeps. “Calm down. Your BP is spiking. The nurse will throw me out.”
He inhaled a few deep breaths and dropped back against his pillows.
“Andy had a camera hidden in your office,” she said. “He wouldn’t tell me anything until he talked to a lawyer.”
“He’d better get a lawyer, because he’s gonna need one.”
“I think someone put Andy up to spying on you. Who would do that, Joe?”
“If you’re going to make me list my enemies, you could be here all day.”
wolf says
My second attempt, because I’m a dork and my first entry was too long:
“Scanner?” Richard hooked onto a word he recognized and clung for dear life.
“Right, the matter scanner. Tells me if the space I’m going to pop into is occupied or not. You know, so I don’t materialize in the middle of a wall or whatnot. ‘Cause that would wreck your day, you know.”
“I can imagine.”
“It’s saved me once already, I don’t mind telling you. I thought I’d have a go at Stonehenge. You know, see how they built it and all that rot. And who’d have known – there were big rocks everywhere! I had to jump sideways fifteen chronons before I could pop back in the stream.”
The headache that Richard had seen on the horizon had decided that it would prefer to start the party early, and was busy setting up shop behind his left eye. As the stranger spoke, a dull ‘thud’ echoed his every syllable.
Richard held up his hand, to forestall more explanations. “Yet you still hit me.”
“Oh, right, sorry about that, mate,” said Bernard. “The scanner doesn’t work so well on moving objects. You must have been walking around.”
“So I was. I was minding my own business, looking for a beer.”
“Did you find one?”
“No. Oddly enough, my progress was halted by a collision with a big yellow monstrosity that I’m supposed to believe is a time machine.”
“So it was. And it is. Would you like a beer? I’ve got an ice chest inside.”
David Johnson says
from Mornings Under the Lake Street Bridge
Todd poked at imaginary hash browns on his plate until Nancy reappeared. “Can I take those from you?”
“Yes,” said Todd. He glanced at Craig, who stared back at him sourly.
“More coffee?”
Todd looked again at Craig. “Please,” he said softly.
Craig glowered at him and wiped his large hands on his apron.
Nancy returned with the coffee.
Todd marveled at the bend in her elbow, the part of her body closest to his eyes, as she poured. The pot was empty.
She put it on the table behind them and sat down across from Todd, resting her elbows on the cool Formica top.
“So, you had lost hope?”
“What?”
“You told me that you went down to the river. You said you had lost hope.”
“Did I?”
“I’m pretty sure that’s what you said.”
“Yeah, but that was in April, two months ago,” said Todd. “So, how long have you worked here?”
“Are you trying to change the subject?”
“Yeah. I keep saying more than I should.”
Nancy stared at Todd with a flicker of irritation. “I’ve worked here for about six months.”
“How do you like it?”
Nancy looked toward the kitchen and sighed. “Well, it’s close to where I live, it pays the bills, and I get along great with Craig. I get here in the morning and he says, ‘Good morning,’ and we just move along. If it’s slow, like today, I can talk to people like you without getting hounded.”
Emily says
“How did you get banned from fencing?” Abigail said incredulously.
Edward shrugged. “Broke a few rules. Pissed a few people off.”
Sylvana leveled a stern look his way. “That’s the understatement of the year.” She turned to Abigail. “To begin with, he would hit people in illegal places.”
“I didn’t hit him that hard—”
“I don’t think that guy will ever have kids,” Sylvana said.
“But don’t fencers wear protection? Bulletproof vests and all that?” Abigail grinned crookedly.
Edward winked. “I put a lot of effort behind that hit. The guy annoyed me.”
Sylvana wasn’t finished. “And he would talk back to the judges.”
“They thought I lacked ‘sportsmanship.’” Edward managed to make the word sound dirty.
“He refused to do… what is that thing again?”
“Salute. I refused to salute this annoying little bastard and for some reason that really annoyed the judges.” Edward pitched his voice lower, imitating an older man. “‘Fencing is about respect and if you cannot understand that, young man, than you cannot participate.’” He snorted. “Anyone who’s studied history can tell you that fencing is about taking your opponent’s head off, not respecting them.”
“Maybe you’re supposed to respect the decapitated head,” Abigail suggested.
“So they banned him.” Sylvana ignored their commentary.
“I still think it was so I would stop stealing all the glory,” Edward muttered.
“Was he any good?” Abigail looked interested.
Sylvana sighed. “The best,” she said.
Edward pretended to preen.
“But it was only because his social life was so crappy that he practiced all the time,” Sylvana added.
Taylor K. says
Well, here’s my entry. From a short story I wrote a few years ago called “Sights and Sounds of a Madman from Hell”:
“Psycho.”
“Freak.” Kevin put his head in his arms.
“Leave me alone.”
“HA! You don’t want us to leave you alone! Without us, you would be all alone.”
“You wife wouldn’t even be with you, that slut.”
“That’s not true,” whispered Kevin. “She loves me.”
“Loves you? YOU? You tried to kill her!”
“NO!”
“YES! You did try to kill her.”
“I thought…”
“YOU THOUGHT? WHAT YOU THOUGHT DOESN’T MATTER! YOU TRIED TO KILL HER! MONSTER!
“I didn’t know it was her.”
“You know that doesn’t matter, monster.”
“Psycho.”
“She’s moved on.”
“She’s been screwed like a dog.”
“She hates you!”
“NO,” yelled Kevin more forcefully. “She loves me.”
“You deluded freak.”
“Psycho.”
“She doesn’t love you. No one does. We are all you have left.”
“That isn’t true,” said Kevin.
“Yes it is, psycho.”
“She hates you.”
“HATES YOU!” Kevin hid his head. A large burst of flames suddenly erupted in the corner of the room. A new dark figure emerged.
“We may have a problem.”
Stew21 says
It stays with you.
“What?” My arms tensed and the car swerved.
“What what?”
“Nothing. Thought you said something.”
“Probably a ghost.”
“Not funny.”
He sat upright. “Is this like the Field of Dreams ghost? You hear some mysterious voice and it tells you to drive your ass to Key West?”
“Not exactly. I see him, too.” I swiped a hand across my face, knowing how that sounded.
“First, a noose for a tie, then a girl in a box.”
“Trunk” I interrupted. “It was a trunk.”
“Ok. Trunk. Seriously. You think your dad knew he was going to die and now you’re driving to Key West because Ernest Hemingway told you to?”
“Yep. That about sums it up.”
“Ok. What did you hear just now?”
I reached for the cigarettes in the console.
“You don’t smoke. What is up with the smoking?”
“I have no idea.”
“Did you see him this time?”
“He said ‘It stays with you’ and no I didn’t see him.”
“It stays with you,” he said, trying to get a feel for the words. “Well that sounds like a damn fine reason to drive to another state for beer and seafood if I ever heard one.”
“Go back to sleep.”
With that, Tim rolled to his side.
I put down the cigarette I hadn’t bothered to light and looked in the rearview mirror – hopeful I was not crazy.
Ernest Hemingway smiled.
“Going for it, I see.”
Adrian says
What they hay. I know you don’t do picture books, Nathan (or at least I think I know), but you can’t get feedback if you don’t put stuff out there, so here goes:
The Solitary Bear
(550 word pb)
Deep in a dark green forest, in the shadow of a great red oak, a bear watched the other animals play.
Bandina was dark and beautiful, but she lifted her lip and snarled when a fawn came too close. A scarred old buck nudged his son away. “It is not good to be so alone,” he said.
“It’s not so bad,” rumbled Bandina.
The first breath of winter tugged at her fur, carrying brittle leaves and a gentle sting of snow. The animals started to wander towards their dens and burrows. Bandina rose.
Two wolves watched Bandina, yellow eyes unblinking.
“You must be lonely,” said Smoke, “so far from your old home. Why not let us in?”
Sienna crept close. “We could bring you food, keep you warm and safe.”
“I don’t need any help,” growled Bandina. “Go away.”
“So ungrateful,” said Smoke.
“And unwise,” whispered Sienna. They slipped away.
Bandina entered her tree. Carved with her own claws, it was filled with soft grass and dry flowers and sunshine trickled through knots in the wood above. But it felt cold and empty as Bandina twisted and turned.
There was a knock. “What,” Bandina roared, rising up in waves of fur.
A rabbit crouched outside, ears bent and quivering. “I’m sorry,” he said. “My name is Leopold. I just wondered—D-d-do you like to dance?”
“Don’t be silly,” said Bandina. “Bears don’t dance.”
Wendygirl says
Puppy counted the stars tattooed on the inside of his eyelids until he heard a beating wing.
“What’s that?” he asked, just as something heavy and honking was dropped on his chest.
“Here, hold Mildred,” said his mom.
“What?”
“Hold her.” She put Puppy’s hands on either side of Mildred and pressed. “I figure we may as well take Mildred to the vet, if we have to go to town.”
“But I’m hurt,” said Puppy.
Mildred honked again, spraying a light mist across Puppy’s knees.
“Not your hands. Really, Puppy, just hold on to her. We’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”
Mildred honked and Puppy realized his face was at the business end of a very large, well-fed goose.
“Oh, God,” he said.
“What?”
“What if she poops?”
“She’s not going to poop.”
“She poops all the time. She’s practically incontinent,” he said.
“Oh, she is not and you don’t even know what incontinent means.”
“It means she can’t stop pooping.”
“Well, don’t think about it,” she said.
“That helps,” said Puppy.
“Of course it does. Just think about something pleasant.”
“Like how I’m going to kill Beatrice when I get home.”
“Puppy!”
“It’s pleasant,” he said.
“Think of something else,” she said.
“Whatever.” Puppy pictured Beatrice’s long, skinny neck, and Mildred honked as he squeezed her.
“Stop,” said his mom.
“What?”
“You were thinking about killing Beatrice, weren’t you?”
“Maybe,” said Puppy.
“Well, stop it.”
Puppy rolled his eyes and a fresh set of stars burst in his head.
Jewells says
“Stay here with me tonight.”
“I can’t.”
“Fatima, look at me.” He turns my face to his. “I’m not asking you to move in. You’re in and out of here at your convenience. I just want a little more time with you. Stay a while. That’s all I’m asking.”
I brush his hand off of me. “This never should have happened.”
My skirt is on the floor. I pick it up, grab the rest of my clothes. Need to get out of this room, out of this space.
David doesn’t let my silence stop him. He follows me to the bathroom. Pushes the door open. Pushes his way back into my space. “Where are you going?”
“Shouldn’t ask questions when you know the answer.” I move toward the door.
He puts his hand up, blocks my departure. Shows me a sign of him I don’t like.
“David, please.” I push his hand away from the door just like I pushed it off of me seconds ago. “Is that really necessary?”
“Talk to me.”
“There’s nothing to talk about. You knew where I stood before we slept together, before we crossed that line. Tonight was no different. Don’t act like this is new to you.”
David and I go way back. We have a history. But just because two people share time doesn’t mean they should be together. All we share is the past. Nothing more, nothing less.
I’m standing at the front door. Purse and keys in hand, ready to close this chapter of my life.
“Don’t leave like this,” he demands.
“Tell me. What difference will it make if I stay?”
Emischa says
“I’m telling you, I saw his feet turn to flippers and then when he dried them off they looked like feet again.”
“Just like that time you saw a penguin swimming in the lake, right?”
“I did see a penguin,” Becky said emphatically. “You aren’t listening!”
“Gee Beck, I guess he and the penguin are friends, huh?” Jess teased.
“Yeah, and here I thought the penguin just heard that the fishing was good and there were fewer whales to worry about having him for dinner.” Jimmy elbowed Jess as Becky glared at them.
“Whales don’t eat penguins, Walruses do,” Becky said.
“We don’t have many of them either.” Jess laughed.
“Randy saw it. And it did happen.”
“Randy was working then, he didn’t see the penguin. No one did, except you.” Said Jess
“I mean Zeke’s feet. They got wet and they were all scaly…
“Imagine that someone with scaly feet.” Jimmy smirked.
“…and his toes were webbed. But when he dried them off they looked like feet again. Zeke isn’t normal.”
“Well, there’s a news bulletin”
“Go ahead and laugh. I know what I saw.”
“How did that penguin get here anyway?”
“I don’t know,” said Jimmy “probably hitched a ride with the Wal-Mart refrigerator truck and then waddled to the lake when they began to unload.”
Picking up their bucket of empty beers, Becky toweled down the table. “You two are assholes.”
Robert says
Here is something I threw together – I have it labled “How to start a fight”. Enjoy!
My orginal post had an error – my bad.
——–
As the clay tankard shattered and dark ale sloshed across table, the clamor of noise within the tavern came to a sudden halt.
“I called you a cheat and I will be damned if you think you are walking out of here with my money!” Towering over the table, the bearded man’s face was flush with rage and it was only with a hair width of restraint that he had not already thrown aside the card table and began pummeling the over dressed dandy across from him.
“Well,” the seated man started with a tiny smile upon his lips, “I can see that you are rather upset now, what with the streak of bad luck you’ve been having and all, but there is no reason to be calling me a cheat, son.”
“Son! By the god’s black eyes, I’m no son of yours, you smarmy gigolo, and I-“
“Well of course your not. You are too old to be one of my bastards and there is no way I would have rutted with a whore ugly as the one whom saw fit to whelp you.”
“My…my mother-,” the bearded man sputtered. A thick vein pulsed upon his forehead and the wood of the table beneath his grip creaked alarmingly under the giant man’s quivering hands.
“Yes, yes. I am sure she is a fine woman – a queen among the whores and all that. They all are until they are getting stuffed by some prick and moaning like the northern winds.”
Susanne Sanstra says
“I say we kill him, make it look like a drug overdose. Come on, it happens all the time. Nobody would miss him.” Kat sits leisurely on the edge of the sofa, confident with her plan.
“I know people,” Rafe adds.
Cane looks at them both, “I don’t want to kill him.”
Kat goes on, “Except that could make him even more famous. I mean look at all the nutters that like to buy music from dead guys.”
“Kat, are you listening? I don’t want to kill him.”
“We could make him disappear,” Rafe says.
Kat, nodding her head, “Disappearances are good.”
“We’ve seen enough CSI, I think we could make it work, but what to do with the body?” Rafe asks.
“I want him back. I don’t want him dead. I want him to marry me. I want him to want me.” Cane begins crying again. Kat walks over to sit down next to her. Rafe and Kat look at each other.
“Oh babe, I know. This is really hard. I’m so sorry, and I think you’re right.” Kat comforts her.
”You do?” Rafe asks, surprised at his girl.
“Sure, I mean she loves him.”
“I do. I love him!” Cane cries.
“So, we get him back for her. They get married; live a month or two with the bastard cheating on you, then we pop him. That way you get all the widow money!”
Anonymous says
“Lydia, darling. I’ve heard the news that nobleman Henry has been desiring a dance with you this evening,” Miriam announced.
“Really?” Lydia ran her hand down her skirt, looking over mother’s shoulder. “Where is he?”
She smiled. “Around. I’ll find him and tell him his dance has arrived.”
“Who’s Lathena going to dance with?”
“No one, sister. I shall sit here and look pleased with the event, but that’s all,” Lathena responded.
Still looking at Lydia, but clearly speaking to Lathena, Miriam said, “You will dance with any gentleman who asks. It’s the proper thing to do, especially since this is the King’s ball. You will be involved, young lady.” She looked at Lathena disapprovingly, then back to Lydia and smiled at her prized daughter.
At once, Miriam left to fetch nobleman Henry.
“I can’t believe you,” Lydia said once their mother was out of sight.
“What?”
“Dad spent all that money on a gorgeous dress that you won’t even use. That dress should have been for me.”
“You can’t possibly think a dress is going to make a guy want you any more.”
“Of course it does. How do you think Lady Ella managed to get Lord Benevolent?”
“That’s a horrible example. Everyone knows they’re only together because of their physical attraction and money. And that’s exactly why I will never fall prey to any man. No one wants love these days.”
“You’re wrong.” Lydia smiled as she saw nobleman Henry walk her way.
“Prove it.”