Category Archives: fiction

Trifecta – Alley Confusion


Today’s Music: V V Brown – Shark In The Water
Note on Today’s Music: The rest of her album is good, and not near as pop-ie as this. But the chorus got stuck in my head, so hear it is.

This is a response to this weeks Trifecta Challenge. It plays with a theme that keeps rattling around in my head, but I haven’t figured out how to develop it. Yet.

Oh, and to the judges, I used the definition for the challenge almost exactly. hehehe.
Hope y’all enjoy it.

Wait – What?!?

Everything – every piece of fiction, even an inkling of an idea – that’s written creates a world. Bright sunny spaces, dark foreboding places, and everything in between.
I like the ideas best. It leaves us, those that populate these worlds, a lot more leeway to interpret and develop them.
Sometimes, magic can happen.
And sometimes…not.

“Dude, what the hell are you doing?”
I wore my gardening apron that says “Dig It!” in bright letters. I had my toolbelt – mini-spade, a bottle of plant food in water, and a short stake to hold the bloom off the ground until she got settled.
My compatriot was not dressed for gardening.
The boots weren’t flashy. They were tough, well worn. The motorcycle jacket fit like a coat of armor, the leather of his waist holster matching the leather of the twin shoulder holsters he wore.
The twilight reflected off the long knife strapped to his hip.

“Man”, I said, “That metal’s gonna rust while we’re planting in the valley”.
He looked confused. “What valley?”
“Didn’t you read the challenge idea he wrote?” I’m going to plant a Lily.”
His palm smacked his forehead. “Can’t. You. Read?” he asked slowly, through clenched teeth. “This isn’t a fun summer outing. We’re going to be dodging bullets, hiding behind dumpsters in cramped spaces.”
“But we agreed”, I answered. “We both said we should go with Lily for the challenge”. I held up my potted plant. “I took Lily, the word and came up with Lily of the Valley!”, I finished, grinning.

He sighed, squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose. Then he whipped out his smart phone, tapped the screen and held it up to me.

http://www.trifectawritingchallenge.com/
ALLEY
3: a narrow street through the middle of a block giving access to the rear of lots or buildings

“Nooo”, he said even slower. “We’re rescuing Lily from the ALLEY!”

I looked down at my plant, my apron.
“Dumpsters?”
He nodded.
“Rats too?”
“Yep.”

Oops.

Storie Game – 600 Words of Romance


Today’s Music: Scorpions – Rock You Like A Hurricane
Days Til Spring: 10
Vina’s Storie Book (Romance Edition) Challenge is underway. click for the Rules and Part 1
Hobbler contributed Part 2

Just a quick note – I don’t really write Romance. After reading the below, I’m pretty sure that’s a good thing.

So be it.
I tightened the leather armor around my broad, muscled chest. I drew my sword, stepping out from behind the jagged up thrust rock.
“Behold”, I announced, “I have come for my beloved.”
The tip of my sword spun decisively to the two craven fools holding her. I advanced upon them, as, sneering, they drew their weapons.
Hope cried out form within her cage – “My love!”
Was there fear in her quavering voice? I looked away from my opponents to take in her gorgeous visage, her locks of flaming red, the heaving of her bosom. The sight of her sweat besmirched décolletage, and the sadness and terror on her wide, engulfing eyes only spurred me to greater anger.
I raised my sword up high.
“Father” I bellowed. “Show yourself!”
The two guardsmen rushed at me. I dispatched one instantly with one shrewd flick of my wrist, my lean, sweat glistening limbs completing their appointed task..
His companion was more of a challenge.
We circled each other, the swarthy inner province man, his long dark hair swaying in waves as the moonlight glistened down upon us.
His eyes caught the light – glinting savagely, hungrily at me. I watched his body as his strong frame clenched, relaxed, clenched.
I found myself growing more tense as I watched for signs of what he would do, studying his handsome figure.
He came towards me, slowly.
For a moment, I was stunned, rooted to my spot by the power of his gaze.
What is this I was experiencing? What feelings were these as I imagined I could feel his hot, intamed breath against my soft cerulean skin?
I jerked my head, snapping out of it as he closed upon me.
Our swords clashed, each fighting for mastery over the other. Thrust, parry, recoil. Counterstrike.
A fluid, vital ballet, a dance with meanings layered within layers.
“Is this what you wanted?” he asked, taunting me. “Is this what love is to you? Giving your life for a woman?- I mean, a woman so easily captured?”
He stopped, unsure for a moment. My bare hand slapped at his free arm, grazing the wiry curls of hair draped on his arm. I seized his shoulder, spinning him around and coming up behind him, my arm sliding it’s sinewy way under his neck to press his back against my chest.
I heard Hope gasp. Turning to her, I saw her dainty hand covering the small moue of her raspberry red lips. The cage hadn’t been locked, and she surged out of it, her dress catching and ripping, leaving her alabaster legs exposed.
She ran over to me, fitting herself to me, under my sword arm.
She buried her head against me, the soft sound of tears muffled by the leather.
I felt my opponent writhe, seeking purchase and freedom, but I continued to overpower him. The three of us stood, our musky scents intertwining, rolling over each other.
I leaned even closer to the enemy, my hot breath on his ear.
“Where is my father?”
He stiffened, an involuntary reaction, But I felt it, his being betrayed by his own biology. I savored the moment of strength and control, the thrill of him answering to my will.
I leaned even closer, our sweat intermingling as I continued the moment of dominating intimacy.
“I’ll not ask again” I whispered, watching the thick locks of ear hair way in my breath.
Hope wriggled out from between us, her small, firm buttocks grinding against me as she escaped the overwhelming aroma of maleness.
She drew my dagger from my belt…

Part 4 is being handed off to Gillian Colbert.

Pop Culture Stories. And Mockery.


Today’s Music: Ned’s Atomic Dustbin – Intact

Comments from a previous post
Edward Hotspur | December 6, 2011 at 19:48 | Reply | Edit
I’m older, just so you know.

El Guapo | December 6, 2011 at 23:11 | Reply | Edit
but you have the soul of a young whippersnapper.

Edward Hotspur | December 6, 2011 at 23:24 | Reply | Edit
Yeah, well…. he wasn’t using it.

Which got me thinking. Which led to this. Thanks, Edward Hotspur. Glad to share the credit.

Or the blame.

This story has not been reviewed for quality.

The warm light glistened down upon Harry Cullen, a soft breeze wafting through his unkempt but stylish hair.
He sat on the shore of Lake Winsconereste, Bella Granger sitting by his side.
“Why are we out here in the middle of the night?”, asked Bella.
Harry looked at her in surprise, setting down the newspaper article he was reading about the recent strange behavior of Adam Lambert. “Night? But it’s so bright here”.
She sighed. “That’s the moonlight reflecting off your sparkles. Could you tone it down a bit?”
Harry pouted. He absent-mindedly stroked the fur of his cocker spaniel, Weasley Black.
Bella was upset. The last time Harry had come back from hunting, he had been a different person, and she was still getting used to the change…

“You know, Bella” began Harry. “Sometimes I just think that there aren’t enough words or emo styles to express the full angst-ness within me. Sure, I sparkle, sure, I wear clothes that make me look like a strung out heroin addict.” He stood up and began to pace. “But I don’t think it’s me.”
He turned to her, cupping her chin in his hand. “I think this soul inside me is-”

He was interrupted by the sound of bodies crashing through the trees. He turned to face them, tensing.
His face elongated, nose and jaw stretching out and joining in front of his face like the spout of a funnel.

He roared, a high pitched tinny sound (look folks, his whole vocal structure is pinched. Of course he sounds like that.) coming from the spout end.
Next to him, Weasley Black had turned to face the intruders, transforming from his mild mannered cocker spaniel appearance, to that of a ferocious, well muscled french poodle.
“Yip!” he snarled. “Yip! Yip!”

The intruders, making it through the treeline to the shore, regrouped. Harry recognized them by their wands. They all had the Plywood with Catgut core wands that were the signature tool of the Consumers Against WTF.
“We’ve found you” hurrahed (yes, it’s a word. Now.) their leader, Volde Gingrich. “And now we will put an end to this madness.”
“What gives you the right to judge us?” squeaked Harry. “All we want to do is finish our tale and be on a Burger King glass!”
“These stories are heavy handed”, shouted Fallwell righteously. “They are built on flimsy premises and are intellectual claptrap.” He circled Cullen and Weasley Black. “Sure, they are iconic touchstones now, and they have gotten millions of children to read. but where is the heart? Where are the depth and metaphor?”
His voice grew higher as he became more and more impassioned, until his pitch was almost as annoyingly squeaky as Harry’s.
“What happened to movies that meant something? Kramer vs. Kramer? Touch of Evil? Where are the novels of yesteryear – The Old Man And The Sea? The Hitchikers Guide to the Galaxy?”
“ENOUGH” trilled Harry Black, moving closer to Volde. Weasley Black scooted in, fierce french poodle teeth ripping at Gingrich’s Brooks Brothers clad leg.
Volde raised his wand, but was too late. Harry seized him under his arms, and, jamming his pointy snout into Gingrich’s neck, inhaled his soul.
Volde Gingrich flopped limply to the dirt.
Harry Cullen crouched over, still.

The members of Consumers Against WTF stood frozen, aghast. After a few minutes, they slowly shuffled forward, claiming their fallen leader and turning back to the trees.

Bella Granger came forward, the now cocker spaniel Weasley Black trailing quietly.
She rested her hand comfortingly on Edward’s shoulder. She knew what would happen next, but not the shape it would take.
In this amazing world, soul suckers would always have their core selves, but would take on the personality characteristics of those they had devoured.

Harry groaned, slowly rising to his feet, looking at his arms, the way his hands flexed,Bella cringed, preparing for the effects of his new soul.

“I…” creaked Harry Cullen, fingering a hole in his too tight, low riding black jeans. “I think I need to buy a suit.”
He walked off through the trees.

Bella Granger sat and cried.

You’re welcome.