It’s time of the granddaddy of them all, our sort-of-annual first paragraph challenge! Will your paragraph wow the masses? Do you have the first paragraph to end all first paragraphs?
We shall soon find out.
Let’s get to the good stuff. THE PRIZES!
The ULTIMATE GRAND PRIZE WINNER of the SUFPC will win:
1) The opportunity to have a partial manuscript considered by my utterly fantastic agent, Catherine Drayton of InkWell, whose clients include bestselling authors such as Markus Zusak (The Book Thief), John Flanagan (The Ranger’s Apprentice series) and Becca Fitzpatrick (Hush Hush), among others.
2) A signed advance copy of my novel, JACOB WONDERBAR AND THE COSMIC SPACE KAPOW, which is coming out in May:
3) The pride of knowing your paragraph was like the platonic ideal of first paragraphs it was so awesome.
The FABULOUS RUNNERS UP will receive the satisfaction of knowing that they were among the very best, as well as a query critique from yours truly.
There may also be honorable mentions, where still more satisfaction will be had.
So! Here’s how this works. Please read these rules carefully:
a) This is a for-fun contest. Rules may be adjusted without notice, but this one will always remain: please don’t take the contest overly seriously. This is for fun. Yes, the grand prize is awesome and I would have kidnapped a baby koala bear to have my manuscript considered by Catherine Drayton without so much as a query, but don’t let that detract from the for-funness of the contest. For fun. Seriously.
b) Please post the first paragraph of any work-in-progress in the comments section of THIS POST. Please do not e-mail me your submission. The deadline for entry is THURSDAY 4pm Pacific time, at which point entries will be closed. Finalists will be announced…. sometime after that. (Possibly Friday, possibly the following Monday, possibly the year 2032 but probably not the year 2032). When the finalists are announced you will exercise your democratic rights to vote for a stupendously ultimate winner.
c) Please please check and double-check and triple-check your entry before posting. But if you spot an error after posting: please do not re-post your entry. I go through the entries sequentially and the repeated deja vu repeated deja vu from reading the same entry only slightly different makes my head spin. I’m not worried about typos, nor should you be.
d) You may enter once, once you may enter, and enter once you may. If you post anonymously, make sure you leave your name.
e) Spreading word about the contest is strongly encouraged.
f) I will be sole judge of the finalists. You the people will be the sole judge of the ultimate winner.
g) I am not imposing a word count on the paragraphs. However, a paragraph that is overly long may lose points in the judge’s eyes. Use your own discretion.
h) Please remember that the paragraph needs to be a paragraph, not multiple paragraphs masquerading as one paragraph.
i) You must be at least 14 years old and less than 147 years old to enter. No exceptions.
j) I’m on Twitter! You can find me at @nathanbransford and I may be posting updates about the contest.
That is all.
GOOD LUCK! May the best paragraph win and may it be rather awesome.
Sara S. says
Hell was hour eight on a Greyhound bus. The first two hours weren’t bad–I was busy managing panicked phone calls from my parents. Hours three and four, I finished my summer reading. Hours five and six, I slept. Hour seven, we crossed into Missouri and the bus started swaying and groaning like a bad actress on Showtime. Now we were pushing towards hour nine, the engine was possibly about to explode, and I was inspecting the graffiti around my seat. On the bottom pane of the window, someone had used Wite-Out to draw a heart with the initials TR+ML in the middle. Had TR and ML loved each other that much? I wondered. Or had they, like me, simply hit the boredom wall of hour eight? The plains bounced past me in dark rectangles, dirty fields passing through the clear center of the heart.
Jen says
If I’d expected the women of my household to greet me at the door with a cup of Falernian, a dish of nuts and a cloth with which to mop my troubled brow, I was out of luck. As it was it took ten minutes to rouse the door porter, and at least another ten for Juba and him to pour me out of the litter and drag me inside on my toga. There was an art to it I was mostly unaware of – I was trying to unlace my sandals.
Ash says
Various shades of brown, the primary color of New Mexico, greeted Raelinn Madison as she ran –as fast as her stilettos allowed- through the Albuquerque airport. While the adobe walls, leather chairs and Mexican tile tickled the edges of her memories, her mind was elsewhere. The sooner she got her bags, rented her car and was on the road, the sooner she could allow the tightly coiled serpent within her freedom. Step one was releasing June. Step two was to feed the serpent within and that meant finding a man. After throwing her luggage into the trunk, honking at a beat-up pickup in her way and speeding through the exiting airport traffic, she let out a long exhale and said, “You can come out now June.”
Matthew Rush says
NOTE: Nathan, please don't make this an official entry. The MS is not ready for a partial critique from Catherine.
I’m trapped—in a room at the Thunderbird Motel near the airport. It’s a cheap room in a cheap motel. The carpet is thinner than a punch ballot at a polling station in the ghetto, and the windows vibrate like Baghdad each time a plane takes off. My wrist is shackled to the same chair my ass is plastered to. The cuff is not so tight to cut the skin but it chafes my wrist to the bone. I am ashamed. The old guy leans against the door, suspicious. The fat fuck lounges on the bed, the TV illuminating his dark hair and sloe eyes with flashes of color. His boredom barely outweighs his contempt. He could easily be a Puzo soldier, but he’s not. They’re bounty hunters. And not bail skipping, deadbeat junkie hunting servants of the bench either. Even those men have honor. These cowards hunt troubled teens. Delinquents like me.
H. Pinski says
It all begins on a mountain that had no business being there at all. It was not a large mountain by any standard, in fact it barely qualified as much more than a very steep hill. It was a curious mount, boasting a lush expanse for foraging creatures; grasslands that grew out of nothing but solid ledge, and near blizzard-like conditions at its peak even in the scorching heat of summer. But perhaps the most curious thing about this mountain was that it was some matter of debate as to whether or not it existed before the year thirteen hundred, an observation that simply baffled geologists because it implied that the mountain was somehow man-made.
Ben says
If they had me when Humpty Dumpty fell then Humpty Dumpty would not have been a nursery rhyme. He would have been just another fat egg with a balance problem. That is what I do, piece things together. I have the ability to see a crime scene and know what happened. I can sift the unnecessary from the necessary and relevant in a glance, and help the police understand what took place. The Chief of Police loves me for this.
Francine Howarth says
Tethered to the mainmast of a sailing ship and fifty lashes of the whip supposedly raining down on his back, Ricky Lindon sensed something or someone on the quayside. It was just a flash of creamy white in his peripheral vision. Instinct and aversion to the paparazzi kicked in. He inclined his head to see what had caught his eye: Yee Gods.
lori says
He’s crazy. I’m sure of it. Taking one high school psych class hardly qualifies me to diagnose anyone’s crazy, but he must be . . . at least a little bit. As soon as the disinterested waitress had presented our lunch, he had begun the ritual. We were settled into opposite sides of the dingy booth now, me watching, and he oblivious. He detected none of my irritation, which generated a greater sense of his madness within me. He was doing his thing again. Being in Robert’s presence for an extended length of time was arduous when he refused to reign in his crazy. This time, his need for all foods to be sufficiently sequestered in their proper pedestrian places on the plate induced a tangible physical reaction I found difficult to suppress. No items made contact. No food juices of said items made contact. Robert’s plate looked like a strange collection of trophies not to be handled. I wanted to reach across the table and smear all his perfect foods together, and walk away. I didn’t. I wouldn’t. But, oh, how I wanted to.
Spencer says
Here's my first paragraph:
Father will never forgive me for what I will do to him, then again that is if he can survive what will come to him. For far too long has the feeble minded fool ruled, making mankind dance to his every desire by pulling the little strings that tie them to him. Not that they have much choice but to obey, he and the other gods did create them. From nothing were they created therefore nothing will they be according to him. I doubt even father truly understands what he and the others did when they created life, you can’t create something from nothing and take it back without consequences.
Kira Holt says
Lindsey seized Samantha’s arm as the lights dimmed. The two jumped to their feet and joined as clapping escalated in a semi-rhythmic fury of anticipation. Lindsey’s knees shook as Austin’s Frank Erwin Center rocked from excitement. Latecomers rushed their seats after intermission, tee-shirts in hand. flicking lighters and cell phones in individual luminarios as Lindsey blinked, looking at faces in hopes she wouldn’t come spy students she counseled. Even the air gasped inhalations of anticipation as pot-soaked exhalations permeated Lindsey’s space. She dropped her head but secretly wished someone would offer her a hit. She wouldn’t take it, of course, but she reasoned it would be nice if someone thought her hip enough to offer.
Nilina says
"Win-i-fred O-Neilllll," came Coach Hale MacDougal's amplified call from behind a bullhorn. And with that, Winifred knew she'd rather forfeit than try for a shot at the colored target 70 feet ahead of her, a shot now sullied by her summoning. Archery hadn't been her first choice in sport, or even her third, but nevertheless not only had she taken to the practice, but embraced the solitary sport for exactly that reason. Far way from her hometown of Seattle, hidden at a camp deep in the Ozark mountain range in South Carolina, Winifred had finally escaped. Or so she had thought, because with every yelp of her name, it became clear that she hadn't. She knew why Hale was being so insistent even before she slowly turned around to face him to see the phone he held in his hand yards away. She knew who was on the other end of the line. Her parents always had to ruin everything.
Liz S says
As I scurried down the narrow Parisian sidewalk, I saw my mother by my side, clipping along in her high heels, her lips a bright red, her hair pulled back in a severe bun–but the image of her disintegrated as I turned the corner of Rue Benjamin Delessert. Reality closed in as the wind pulled at my pink scarf, almost tugging it away from my neck.
Samantha says
Starts with the scissors. The scissors go in the laundry basket. Four wire hangers, six belts and an extension cord. I’m the only damn one who can handle this without feeling it. Feeling is stupid-useless at this point. I try not to startle the kid—move slow. One thing to the next. Unscrew a lightbulb, but yeah, the lamp too. Can’t leave the chair. Strip the sheets. Pillow goes in the basket. An armful of shoes with laces. Pencils. Bottle of peroxide. Mirror. Outside the bedroom door people talk. Front door opens and closes. This is a good kinda show for them, damn depressing extravaganza. Photos hung-up with tacks go in. Anything he could swallow. Desperate makes for determined. Take the basket out, it hits the kitchen floor and rattles. Hundred tiny dangers. Hell, but I’m sick of this shit. Back to the bedroom and kid’s got himself smashed into a corner. I wrapped his damn arm but the blood’s already showing through. I leave him. Nothing to say. Not that matters.
Lyon says
“Look at me. Look. At. Me.” Becca focused on the back of James’ head, willing him to turn around. Would James’ hair be as soft as it looked? To her right, her best friend, Sam stretched his gum out on a dirty finger. “Gross.” she thought. She caught his eye and grimaced. He bolted upright, dropping his hand, a sheepish grin on his face. Becca dragged her attention to the lecture. Honestly, couldn’t they teach stuff that made sense in her life right now? Like how to not be invisible to the cute boys? She slid down in her chair and peered through her bangs at James. He might not be looking at her, but her skin prickled as if someone was. She swept her eyes around the class. Something shimmered behind the teacher, smoky and green, almost the exact shade of the chalkboard. She scrunched her eyes shut then looked again. Gone.
Meg Leigh says
Levi should have hugged his dad before he left. He slipped out the front door and down the stairs pretty sure that Dad's eyes saw only Jeopardy. That foreboding feeling churned his stomach, but who listens to that when you’re ten, frustrated, and trying to prove a point the only way you know how?
He knew Dad wouldn’t follow him, but as he ran to Hunt's Park, flinching at every shadow, he kept telling himself that he would, that he’d come gather him up and take him home. That’s what folks do, right? Forgive and protect their kids?
Debbie Maxwell Allen says
"Peter." I wake with his name on my lips. I’m sure I spoke it just before I surrendered to sleep. Same as most every day of my seventeen years. But waking up this morning is far different. I haven’t spoken his name in one hundred years.
The Pollinatrix says
Transplants to Taos will tell you that the diva of the mountain either accepts you or kicks you out of town. Because such people have obviously received the diva’s blessing, they tell glowing stories about how they serendipitously ended up in the Mecca of the Land of Enchantment: They felt drawn to stay the moment they got out of the car and inhaled the sage-infused air; someone approached them at the organic grocery store their second day in town and offered a free place to live in exchange for feeding their alpacas. This isn’t how it was for me. My first year in Taos was a nightmarish struggle every single interminable day. Perhaps the diva didn’t approve of my reason for barging into her sacred territory: I fled another small town in northern New Mexico when it got too suffocating, picking Taos solely because it was the closest decent place to go with little money and no job. We packed my van and my boyfriend’s 22-foot ‘78 Dodge camper with as much stuff as we could fit around four kids, and sold or threw away everything else. We then resided at the Taos Valley RV Park (“An All Season Adventure!”) for two of the most disagreeable months of my life. The diva hurled insults and laughed, but I stood my ground.
Susan Carpenter Sims
Daniel Audet says
"what little was left of his humanity bore all corporate. Soulless vacant eyes raked her face, her form. Methodically, he pulled on latex gloves. The fun part.
Mercifully, she was already dead."
tangynt says
I’m going to kill him.
Caleb found comfort in that thought. And he meant it this time. It would be quick and clean. He could leave the body in a ditch where they were widening the highway on the side of I-70 West. No one would bother to start looking for at least a week, and that would be the last place they’d check. Even if someone caught on, he figured he’d make a sympathetic defendant. At seventeen he was still a minor, and a public servant to boot. He could imagine the news lineup. Caleb Azriel Dunnelly, local lifeguard, was acquitted of a second-degree murder charge. Jury says they ‘would have done it too’.
Chelsey says
Connecting to people from behind a guitar was what I understood. I should have taken the bus to New York instead of waiting the extra hour for the train, but I was desperate to play. Outside of Boston’s South Station, I’d become just a girl with a guitar again, the anonymous face I’d worn for most of my seventeen years. I couldn’t do that during my suburban exile. The late-April sky was the blue of the Parisian afternoons I’d been forced to leave behind two years before. The atmosphere wasn’t exactly the same, but elements were. The chords drove Uncle Rob’s threats out of my mind, reaffirming my choice to leave. I had to go somewhere no one would attempt to lock my music away.
Mark Hancock says
The demon crouched unseen on the city wall as his host slept in the house below. The city was quiet in the predawn darkness. The inhabitants were sufficiently oppressed. He enjoyed his assignment – as much as oppressing could be enjoyed – and prided himself in the job he had done in securing the city of Masaria for the Principal.
Orchid says
The screeching whine of metal on metal mingled with the screams of the commuters on the subway platform in a sickening harmony that made him smile. Gabe Shaw did not wait to see the looks of horror, or to see the damage done. Instead he headed for the street, lightheartedly bounding up the concrete steps of the station, his long legs taking them two at a time.
Durango Writer says
For years I escaped to a private place in my mind and daydreamed about killing my daddy. The thing is I never really thought I’d go through with it. When I shot him in the back that July morning, I surprised myself as much as everyone else.
[from Mandy Mikulencak]
D Shipway says
To the untrained eye it was a mad scientist's lab; a haphazard explosion of wiring and flickering screens. To the advanced, trained eye of an expert it was also a menagerie of random technology, but clearly it all held some important purpose. From deep within the tangled mess of a demented robot's dentist chair, a small voice squeaked, "Are you sure it's safe?."
Leigh says
"So, do you want to talk about it?" Trish asked, pushing aside a pile of clothes to sit on the edge of Sef's bed. "Or are you just going to continue torturing your eyebrows until they confess?"
"I'm not torturing them, I'm shaping them. Ever pick up a Cosmo?" Sef huffed at her cousin's reflection, studiously ignoring the flash of purple that flared behind her irises.
Trish leaned back onto her elbows, a study in relaxed calm, and raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow at her. "I pluck my eyebrows. You perform something that looks like it should be forbidden by the Geneva Convention. You could be tried as war criminal for that."
Ruby Blue says
“No, I will not use my employee discount to save you fifty cents on tampons,” I told Tonya again, just in case she didn’t hear me the first four times.
“Why not?”
She stuck her lip out in a pout that made her look like a bad-tempered bulldog.
“Because then I would get fired,” I said.
She huffed and shoved a five-dollar bill across the counter.
“Don’t know what’s so great about working here. If I was you, I’d want to get fired.”
“But then I wouldn’t be able to spend my eighteenth birthday selling you cheap tampons,” I said, handing her back her change and receipt. “Thanks for shopping at Stop and Save and have a great day.”
justinistired says
“Sarah.” Mr. Clemens said, in that quiet way of exclaiming something that he had. He would never resort to an actual outcry in the direst of times, I suspect, so there was really no way to know whether this particular situation was an emergency or not. I dashed up the stairs to the wheelhouse.
Perri says
On the lake, men were shouting. Leanne scanned the choppy water of Orange Lake, the reedy inlets to the East, but Daddy’s canoe was nowhere to be seen. Instead a bass boat headed for the put-in by the highway. “Holy shit!” the men in the boat hollered, two strangers with high, frightened voices. And Claudette was hunched in their bow, her pale hair streaming, her face all fury and fear. She leapt free and splashed the few feet to shore, stood a moment in the wet sand her eyes not catching on any one thing. “Claud!” Leanne wedged her feet into tennis shoes and ran towards her sister. It wasn’t far; the ramp had once been part of the Idylwilde’s scant allure. But before Leanne reached her, Claudette took off running down the state highway and into the brushy woods.
Kevin says
The video triggered a tsunami of horrified expressions on the faces surrounding the conference table. I was the only person at the hastily arranged meeting who managed to watch the screen without flinching.
Anonymous says
A) Yes
B) No
C) Both
D) None of the Above
These were the four choices to the last question on his history exam, his ticket to temporary freedom, and he didn’t have a clue. It was the one thing his father’s money could not buy for him. One of two honestly, but the other he’d rather forget. Much like money couldn’t buy love, the similarly titled Beatles tune played in his head; money could not buy him a passing grade. He wasn’t going to attempt bribery at least, for his last attempt at something he believed in left him dreaming of this day ever since. His grade was important, but to Johan Steyn answering this question correctly represented much more than what is healthy for any adult. Not to mention a love-struck teenager who quite simply, stuck out.
Jean-Luke Swanepoel
sbjames says
Rose Woodman loved storms. Whether they blew in from the sea or the mountains rumored to rise beyond the forest, the result was the same: even the mightiest trees bowed down. Not that she disliked the trees, not at all, but a power that could bend those ancient trunks, that could rip the night apart revealing beautiful flashes of silver- who wouldn't admire that? Everyone, she reminded herself, turning away from the window. Everyone, except me.
P Andrew says
When you give a Banshee a screaming orgasm, everyone hears. Things talk and whispers get around. They began to find me.
It helps that I’m good at my job, better than I need to be as competition is not fierce. You will not find cheaper than I. An internet search will not throw up any alternatives. I am one result of one. The first and last of my kind.
I hear hooves approach on the landing and it is completely normal. Then the knock comes on the door. I don’t need the thing on the other side to prophesise my immediate future. Sweat, tears and deprived magic.
The last and last of its kind. And me, the one and only servicer of last things.
To do this for a living, what the hell am I?
Run-on-Imagination says
Old don’t like disturbing, Anna realized, as the crisscross weave of the wicker jabbed out unrestrained at her crawling along the dirt floor, displacing the decaying baskets. Clumps of mummified vegetables rolled beneath her knees, letting out a foul-smelling swoosh. Tucking herself under the splintered remnants of the wood shelves that lined the wall she hoped was farthest from the entrance, wiry arms coiled around bare calves, tightening her small. Spiders and mice that crept in from her imagination, became real enough to feel. She dared not move. The fear of her father outweighed fear of any unseen creepy crawlies she’d pissed off by trespassing on this, their turf. Clumps of blonde, long, dirty and tangled, fell over her knees as the fetal position offered a semblance of safety. Her sanctuary, the old root cellar, reeked of putrefied decay that rotted the air. Each breath squeezed through her throat like a lit match. The booming voice grew loud. He was getting closer as he crashed and banged his way through the house. She knew he was in the kitchen now, above the basement, above her hiding spot. Her hands flew to her ears, and the wicker's finger-like claws took advantage of the movement, ripping and tearing skin. Anna squeezed her eyes shut so the tears couldn’t get out and mouthed the only prayer she knew, though not remembering how it made its way into her memory. "Four posts around my bed, four angels around my head: one to watch, one to pray and two to keep the devil away."
Maggie says
Liddy's face said it all. Nini rolled her eyes at Jess. “Not again!” they chimed together, turning their heads in unison. “No, not again,” Liddy said. They sighed in stereo relief. “For the last time. There's no way we'll fail tonight!” In her excitement, Liddy tossed her finger straight into the air, almost yelling the last two words. Several girls in the hallway shot furious glances into the room. Semester terms were in full gear, nerves were fried, and Liddy wanted to bust out, for the fifteenth time.
Jennifer Rose says
I do love the smell of crazy. It makes me weak in the knees and I get a little tingle just above my tailbone at the first whiff. I suppose I’ll never quite be able to rid myself of the inner nut that still dwells within. It’s been a good two years since I was booted out of Montclair and the sight of Nurse Eleanor Frump hurled me right back to the days of whale covered pajamas and self-indulgent sessions. I smelled the hospital on her clothes and I went right back there. I went right back to moment she waddled into my life, round head and all. She has always had some nerve.
Evalyn7 says
Into the hole that was now her heart she put her work. Words didn’t just appear on paper. On her desk: the phone logs of the recurring harassment by government officials and the news footage of the press pack camped out on a cable crossed lawn, plugging into the county grid, violating the metal panelled integrity of local street lights, hacked open by some AT&T freelancer, so that the news trucks could fire up, live, for the seething mass of stand-ups broadcast, world-wide, via satellite. She hadn’t kept Richard safe but it was his choice to die.
Why Would I Lie?
Laura Campbell says
Rebecca placed her hands on her knees gulping air. The cold burned her lungs. Looking over her shoulder to the top of the grassy stairs, she realized she had a head start, but the barking was getting louder. She stood up looking for her boat, stumbling from the blood rush to her head. It was gone. Squinting through the fog, she saw it, a five-minute swim away. The sun is coming up. I need to hurry. As she climbed onto the small boulders making up the shore, she slipped. She sucked in air, cringing at the pain. Blood ran down her shin. She glanced back up the hill. The erratic movement of a flashlight announced the dogs at the top of the stairs. They ran down, barking their determination to stop her. She stood up, trying to keep her balance on the slippery rocks.
Iliadfan says
"If your plan includes survival, we have to leave now," Dahab said. She stretched up on bare toes, peering over her mother's shoulder and through the window just as the mob surged past yet another roadblock. Rioters churned around the houses of the elite, setting fires and overwhelming any guards condemned to the wrong side of barricaded doors. But those distant houses weren't the real target. As if the ground tilted to pour them down the myrtle-lined avenues of the restricted quarter, the mob swept closer. They were still several streets away. Her mother, however, was an immediate danger, and even as she strained for a better look, Dahab made sure to stay well out of reach.
Wen Baragrey says
We’d been on my parents’ front porch for almost ten minutes, a kiss that hadn’t happened yet hanging in the air between us. It was as if another person stood in the shadows, impatient, waiting for us to make up our minds.
Tracey Neithercott says
I knew the pain would come.
My fingernails dug into my palms. Henry swabbed my arm, raising goosebumps with each swipe. My teeth chattered.
(YA sci-fi)
Cathy C. Hall says
As a general rule, Tish didn’t believe signs just fell out of the sky. But if one (a sign, that is) ever dropped from the sky again, Tish hoped she’d have the good sense to get out of the way first.
Remilda Graystone says
Here's my first paragraph:
It's a positive thing. Lavender would be the best color. There it was again. The whispers I'd been hearing for the past few days. Around me, behind me. Everywhere. I didn't bother to look. There was no one there, and the voice didn't belong to anyone I knew.
Brad Green says
Of course, he’d be punished for this. After all, he was disobeying his father. Nevertheless, Elias watched his breath quicken into a white fur on the bedroom window, his right palm forming a print in the fog. What was happening outside was more interesting than studies. Between his fingers, the eastern barbwire crackled with blue spark as the dust storm pushed before it a wave of quiet in which he heard and felt all the house’s contained suffering and timbercrack. Even small crimes called down the wrath.
djpaterson says
Despite having spent the afternoon dreading its arrival, the harsh sound of the bell caught James by surprise, and it took him a moment to realise where he was. But only a moment. Before the ringing died away, James had grabbed his bag and jacket and was running.
Ant says
All this business with sneaking Big Macs was going to have to stop. I knew it, yet it was just so hard to actually follow through. One of these days, I was going to finish eating my clandestine Big Mac behind the Dumpster on Fourth Street, drive home in my VW beetle, and she’d smell the meat on my breath. Somehow, she’d be able to tell that I’d eaten an animal. Maybe I actually wanted her to know. Maybe that’s why it was so hard to stop. I was hiding it from her, yet I wanted so badly for her to notice that something was different, that I was wolfing down animal products at an alarming rate just so she’d pay attention. Or, you know, not. That was the problem with the two mile drive home, it was turning me into goddamned Sigmund Freud.
The Writer Gal says
The phrase, “ego-maniacal, self-centered pig,” doesn’t come close to describing Jonathan Simmons. My boss was definitely the type of boss every employee fantasizes about running down with a large SUV…maybe even backing up and taking another run…or slowly poisoning to death with a combination of arsenic, drain cleaner and bleach.
Mayowa says
Oh the measured prance, the dance of hip and tanned buttock under linen. The lungful snort and the classy giggle. Genteel jingle of spurs and the cultivated clink of champagne flutes. Cubes of sugar licked, hors d’oeuvres devoured. When the rich and their horses gather, it is a synchronous symphony of possessor and possession. Funmi Haruna thought it was all bullshit.
Anonymous says
The blanket covering her was beautiful, brilliant with colors that sparkled. She could see red, gold, and orange. The colors lay over her as she rested in the valley. The clouds seemed to float down, down, down, trying to reach her. The mistiness brushed against her blanket. The blanket broke into tiny pieces. The pieces started to dance. They circled. Mocking her, they made no sound. Dancing in intricate color patterns the pieces changed shape. There was roaring, roaring, pounding, rhythmically against her aching ears. She couldn’t remember. Where was she? Mercifully, darkness closed over her mind. Pain left. The pounding, and the dancing blanket ended.
C.J. Smith
lovethatcj@gmail.com
Holly Roberts says
Today was the day my life would change forever.
Ok, so it wasn’t that dramatic of an epiphany, it was more of a gentle prodding from my gut to be on the ready.
“Charlotte honey, you need to get a move on,” my mom called from the kitchen downstairs.
“Coming mom,” I yelled back.
I crouched down to tie my navy Converse shoes, smirking at the thought that Elizabeth would be especially opinionated in regards to my attire this particular morning. She would disapprove of my causal jeans and plaid shirt look. My straight chestnut brown hair swept up into a simple ponytail, swinging cheerfully along with each movement of my head. Yup, she would have something to say.
Bob Jones says
A chill tickled up Gail Cullen’s slender thirty-four year old neck. Not the kind that breaks into a cold sweat; rather a sense of unreserved excitation one feels a few times in their life. The same sensation when her ex-husband asked her to marry him, and again when her first book published. A few hours ago, when she spotted the yellow and black for sale sign on 50 Stonegate Street, it hit again.