Tag Archives: Writing Exercises

Flash Fiction Friday: Three Friends

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I was doing a few writing exercises in December. This story came from an exercise to write the same scene from three different points of view. This story uses bits from all three of those exercises. What do you think? Is this a possible novel?

Clarise loved getting together with her old high school friends. They toasted, even though strawberry margarita was her least favorite drink. Ariel’s eyes roamed the scene behind her and Bectie was lost in thought. What’s going on?

A dark haired sun-glassed man attacked the table. The restaurant glass shattered. Ariel dove to the left and came up with a Glock, shooting. People around them dove for cover, screaming.

Her best friend, Bectie, was hit in the chest. She saw surprise cover Bectie’s face, then, to Clarise’s amazement; peace came over her just before she toppled over to her right.

Clarise dove for cover, shock curling her into a ball. The table was knocked over, covering her from the onslaught. A tear trickled down her cheek.

Arms over her head, she felt a tap on her arm. She uncurled.

“Are you alright?” Ariel asked her, Glock at the ready.

“Yes.” She unfolded from her fetal position. “You have a lot of explaining to do.”

Ariel helped Clarise up and they checked Bectie. Clarise gently turned her friend over, tears falling down her cheeks. The body relaxed into a flat shape. She checked Bectie’s breathing. “She’s breathing!”

Ariel leapt forward, ear to Bectie’s chest. “Yes!” she rejoiced. She tapped her ear. “Medic required, this location, ASAP!”

Clarise punched her high school friend in the arm. Ariel fell over to her left and in less than a second was crouched in an attack position. Clarise recoiled.

Ariel backed up, still on her heels. She glared at her friend. “Don’t do that ever again.”

Clarise raised her hands. “Don’t do that to me again. Friends don’t do that to friends. Who was that?”

Ariel stood up. The whop, whop, whop of helicopters sounded in the distance. “I can’t tell you.”

“Take me with you.” Clarise stood up. “That’s the least you can do.”

Ariel checked all points of the compass. “Yeah, come with.”

#

They stood over the emergency room gurney as Bectie woke up. She opened her eyes and croaked, “I should be dead. You both need to explain.”

Ariel walked over and shut the door to the hospital room. “This isn’t going to be easy.”

Bectic hitched herself up in the hospital bed, carefully avoiding pulling the IV tubes attached to her arms. Each time the EKG monitor began to accelerate, she stopped and took calming breathes. The monitor resumed its steady beat. She glared. “Out with it. What’s going on?”

Clarise stared at Ariel who glared back at Clarise. Clarise gave out first. “Yeah, I have a… gift.”

Ariel lifted an eyebrow. Bectie’s jaw dropped.

“What do you mean?” Bectie asked. Visions of her friend testifying on the stand in court raced through her mind.

A vision of Bectie’s yacht and husband going over the side flooded Clarise’s mind. She shook off the vision. “I see things, important things, National Security things.” She sighed. No one ever believed her, even her boss and handler. He called her a voyeur.  “It helps people,” she finished with a sigh.

Ariel nodded. “Good. I can use that.”

Bectie and Clarise turned their heads to stare.

“Yeah, you heard me right. There’s an alien attacking Earth. I need all the help I can get. If it’s my old high school friends, all the better.” Ariel shot the magazine of her Glock and tucked it into the holster on her thin leather belt. “You are both now agents of the International Protectorate of Earth.”

Bectie sighed. “Well, you may not want me.” The guilt of her actions against her husband and his lover were wearing on her conscience. “Um, well, I’ve done something.”

Ariel snorted. “Serves him right.”

Bectie stared, eyes a goggle. “You know?”

“Know what?” Clarise asked, unwilling to accept her vision. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Ariel said. “Its need to know. What you do need to know now is that an alien attack force is massed off of the coast of Copertino, California. The Pacific Ocean is big, but we can still track a force that size.”

“But that’s right off of our coast!” Clarise exclaimed. She closed her eyes, squinting them together. “They’re coming ashore!” She opened her eyes wide, in surprise. “A lot of them, machines,” she stared off at the far wall of the room. “They want our water.”

“What else?” Ariel yelled. “What else are they doing?”

Clarise took a breath, closed her eyes. “They’re setting up machines, under the ocean. Um,” she shook her head. “Um, they’re…” she shook her head, “I can’t tell. It’s a lot of machines.”

Ariel pulled a cell phone from her jacket pocket. She hit a few keys and paused. “Boss. They want water. They’re setting up machines off shore of Copertino.”

She was quiet for a moment. “Yeah, I have a source. I’ll let you know.”

Ariel shut the phone and tucked it into her pocket. “The aliens are attacking the land based communities. We need to move.”

“But,” Clarise looked at her friend in bed. “What about Bectie?”

Ariel shook her head. “She’ll be fine here.”

Bectie reached for Clarise’s hand. Clarise took it, clasping it to her. “It will be fine, Clarise. Go with Ariel. She’s going to save us all!”

“But…”

“No buts,” Bectie said. She remembered the sound of her husband going overboard, his slut screaming. “It’s for the best.” She smiled. “This is what you two were made for.” Bectie encouraged them. “Friend to friend.” She looked at Ariel who knew what had happened. “For the greater good.”

Clarise, taken back to their high school years, heard the words. Back then they meant that the trio, outcasts from the popular girls, would persevere over those girls. She didn’t think it meant that now. “For the Greater Good.” She clasped Bectie’s hand and kissed it. “Are you sure you’ll be alright here?”

Bectie smiled at the pair. “Sure. Who wouldn’t be fine with you two in charge?”

The End

989 Words

Find more of the Forward Motion Flash Friday Group here: http://www.fmwriters.com/flash.html

Finding the Endings

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Remember back in November and December I participated in the Chuck Wendig challenge or round robin story telling? Here’s my first 200 words: http://wp.me/p2AyuM-fg

I finished that story on my own here: http://wp.me/p2AyuM-fu

However, another person picked it up in round 2, here it is. It never made it past round 2 so I’m going to finish it the direction Ken Crump at http://brickhousepiggy.wordpress.com/2013/12/04/terribleminds-com-flash-fiction-challenge-200-words-at-a-time-part-two/  took it. I’ll mark his section then I’ll finish the last 600 words. When you get a minute, take a look at Ken’s site. Great wordsmithing going on there.

It’s now called Special Gift.

My first 200 words

Ewan Gilroy backed out of the library stack in a hurry. He peeked around the corner. Oh no.

He crept along the next row to watch the co-ed over the books. Ewan sweated as she checked the paper in her hand. She’s looking for something specific. Can’t be my book, no one’s checked it out in three years. She ran her finger along the titles. He froze as she pulled a book from the shelf. That book has the stolen code. I can’t finish this hack without it!

At the check-out Ewan walked up behind her with a random book.

“Nice to see you again, Brooke,” the librarian smiled. “Science of Computer MetaPhysics and Interdimensional Theory,” she stamped the lending card and her record book and handed the book to Brooke. “Research?”

“From Professor Ingles’ additional reading list for my final paper.” She tucked the book under her arm. “It looks like heavy reading.”

“You’ll do fine. Have a good day.”

“Thanks, you too.” Brooke left.

“May I help you?” the librarian asked.

“Uh, no, changed my mind, thanks.” Ewan dropped his book on the counter and hurried after Brooke. He’d follow her and with luck, get the book back.

Ken Crump’s part

Ewan’s day had been a disaster from the start.  First, he woke up late to the sound of the bus idling in front of his house.  Crap!  Then his stupid sister used all the hot water for her interminable shower ritual, which meant not only was he running to school in the rain, but he was running to school in the rain after a cold shower.  Double crap!  But the worst of it came on his iPhone.  He sat ignoring his gelatinous oatmeal (Mom makes breakfast once, and on time), and checked his email on his phone.  [email protected] had sent another cryptic note.

“Ingles list 7 pg 333 line 12 middle.  done by 10 or shes gone.”

Suddenly Ewan wished Mom wouldn’t tell people about his “special abilities”. That’s what she calls it. She nods and smiles knowingly, saying, “Yes, Ewan has special abilities.” It’s the same in every town they move to. How much easier would it be if she just talked about the weather or knitting or his stupid sister? Maybe we wouldn’t have to move so much.

Ewan tore the syllabus from his backpack and ran a finger down the page. Ingles’ class. The seventh book on the list. “Science of Computer MetaPhysics and Interdimensional Theory”.

Now since no one else picked up the story, I want to finish it. Ken put a great twist in there and I can’t let it just languish.

It was fifteen til nine. Not much time left. He followed Brooke to the Computer Science building and into the nine a.m. class, sliding into the seat behind her. Her tote bag was on the floor. He peeked; he could see the cover of his book. He pushed his bag onto the floor with a bang. She turned around. “Everything OK?”

“Just dropped my bag.” He slid out of the seat and pulled the book out of her bag and slid it into his. “Oh,” he grabbed his stomach.

She turned again.

“I don’t feel well,” he groaned, then rushed down the aisle and out of the room.

Outside the building he flipped the book open to page 333 and found line 12 middle. The phrase “interdimensional vortex” jumped out at him. A vision immediately formed of a large mirror on its own legs, the surface shimmering and a woman in front of it. He blinked. Was that his mother?

It was 9:05am. Now what? His phone vibrated. Santana6 with another text. “127 Willow Lane.”

With 6 dollars in his pocket he hailed a cab and gave the driver the address. Once there he eyed the well-kept Victorian. Hugh oak trees in the front corners of the yard. Chrysanthemums lined the front walk. It seemed pretty domestic for such dramatic texts.

At the door, he turned the old fashioned doorbell. A young man opened it. “Right on time. Come on back.”

He left Ewan standing in the door and headed down the polished wood-floored hallway leading to the back of the house. Ewan followed.

“Hey,” Ewan caught up. “You Santana6?”

“Yep. Everything will be explained.” He led Ewan down a flight of stairs to the basement. It was more clean and light than he expected.

He noticed the mirror then his mother. “Mom?” She sat at a wooden table with the woman from his vision.

“Hello, Ewan.” The woman stood and offered her hand. “I’m your Aunt Rachel.”

He stared at his mother. “You have a sister?”

She stood. “I knew you’d meet when you were ready. Now’s the time.”

“For what, Mom?”

“Time for you to take your rightful place in the Order, Ewan,” his new aunt told him.

” You have abilities, dear, it’s time they were put to use.” His mother took his bag.

Rachel motioned to the young man. “This is your cousin, Samuel. He’ll be helping you.”

“Wait.” Ewan raised a hand. What Order? What place?”

“You’ll be our newest seer, dear.” His mother patted him on the shoulder and gently moved him in front of the mirror. “Your sister and Samuel will be your agents.”

“What?” he turned to confront his mother. A motion in the mirror caught his eye. It was like watching TV. A group of men pulled on masks and checked semi-automatic weapons. The picture changed to the outside of the building they were in, the building number plainly visible. “Wait, what’s going on?” The scene changed once more, to the Federal Building downtown, again the building address plain to see.”

“Do you see this?” He pointed at the mirror.

“No dear. That’s your ability. What did you see?”

He explained. Samuel ran off. The mirror went dark.

“The mirror is the Metaphysical Interdimensional vortex. Professor Ingles is one of us.” Rachel led him to the table and sat down with him.

His mother gave him tea. “Welcome to the Order.”

The End

989 Words

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Flash Fiction Friday: The Last Stones

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I had a prompt, the title of the story. That was it. Hmm, what can I do with this?

The Last Stones

The door to the Alien’s plas-steel shelter opened and the alien Commander, Kekud, emerged with a retinue of advisors. Flags on both sides dipped and General Dane Douglas, followed by his aide, Jon Foster, crossed the smoking, blasted ruin of what was once a Kansas wheat field to the table in the center of the field. The aliens did the same.

At the small table, the two competitors bowed. The aliens’ insect manipulators weren’t made for shaking. Dane sat on the stool someone found, Kekud squatted, much like a praying mantis would.

Jon recited the rules. “Each one of you takes one move in turn until one or the other is blocked from further movement. Winner gets the planet Earth. Losers leave the planet, if Alien, or surrenders to slave-hood, if human.  First move goes to the one who chooses the white stone. He signaled a third person, the human judge, to come forward. His hands were out, closed around the stones.

Kekud pointed at the man’s right hand, Dane chose the left. The judge opened his hands, Kekud had the white stone. The human dropped a sack of stones in front of each player and both judges stepped back.

Dane opened his sack and poured out nine black stones, Kekud poured out white. He placed his stone in the middle of the nine block wooden board.

Dane swore to himself. It was too much to hope the aliens wouldn’t study the game. He could feel a trickle of sweat run down his back. The stench of the burned earth and aliens made him gag. It already looked hopeless. He put a black stone in the lower left corner.

Drones hovered over the game on three sides. The aliens were recording and broadcasting to their ships and to the concentration camps where they held captured humans. Dane wiped sweaty palms on his borrowed uniform trousers.

Kekud picked up his next stone, the pinchers of his manipulators moving delicately as the stone was placed in the upper right corner. He spoke, the translator around his neck interpreting the words from insectoid to human speech. “My government has commanded I win this game.”

Dane looked up into Kekud’s multi-lensed eyes. “We do not give up.”

The insect Commanders’ head, three times the size of a human’s, nodded gently. “I understand. You and your people have fought well.”

Dane picked up a rock and put it on the upper left square. “We fight for our home.”

“We fight to survive.” Kekud placed his rock in the lower right corner. “Your planet still has much to supply us.”

“This is our home. You cannot have it.” Dane studied the board. The alien had made a mistake in placing his rock. His heart beat faster as he put his rock in the middle right square.

“My government grows weary of this war. I must bring it to its conclusion here.” He put a white rock in the lower middle square.

Dane relaxed. There was no way for the alien Commander to win now. He put his black rock in the upper middle square. “You have found that we are hard to eliminate and harder to control.” Dane knew that the human prisoners continually escaped, rioted, destroyed as much as they could and generally made life difficult for their captors. “You must leave Earth.”

Kekud studied the remaining spot on the board, the middle left. It lead nowhere. The game was a stalemate. “I told my leaders that this game was not winnable. I ran it through our computers millions of times. They insisted that I win.” He put his rock in the square.

The humans cheered as they saw the rock go into the square on the jumbo screen the aliens had erected. There was silence on the alien side of the field.

“You played the last rock, Kekud. You have lost.”

“It was a stalemate,” the aliens’ translator hissed.

“It was not a win.” Dane tensed. Would his plan work? Would the aliens accept a stalemate as a loss for themselves?

Kekud was silent for several minutes. The humans grew quiet and tense.

Dane knew the aliens had the ability to communicate outside of human hearing. His only hope was that Kekud would be ordered to leave the planet. The aliens, the humans learned over the years, kept their word. He didn’t feel bad at all about fudging the rules. Out of materiel other than rocks, teeth and nails, this was the human’s only hope of winning.

At last, the translator hissed. “My government concedes, General Douglas.” The Commander bowed. “Congratulations on your accomplishment.”

The human side of the field erupted with cheers.

Over the noise Kekud said. “Your people will be released at once.”

Dane stood up and turned to go. There was a lot of work to be done to heal the planet.

“General,” Kekud said.

“Yes.” Dane turned around.

“My government has never failed at an invasion. They offer an alliance.”

Dane struggled to keep his face neutral and the words, “Hell no,” from escaping his lips. “Why would they do that?”

“You are a worthy adversary. Think of what our species could do, united,” Kekud said.

All of the rebuilding that had to be done, crossed Dane’s mind. Shelters needed to be built, people moved from the camps to new towns, crops planted, food found to get through the winter. It was a tempting thought. Human infrastructure was totally destroyed.

“We’ll take reparations,” he finally said. “Alliance decisions will have to be decided after we are whole again.”

Kekud bowed. “We will contact you.”

Dane bowed then returned to his camp to cheering troops. We might make it, he thought as the crowd surrounded him. Who knew it would come down to tic-tac-toe.

The End

963 Words

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Flash Fiction Friday: 12 Days of Christmas Gone Wrong

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I got the prompt for this story from the Writer’s Digest newsletter. I had to look up the Twelve Days of Christmas. This is a religious time, from December 25th until January 6th. Traditionally, like Hanukkah, a gift was given each of the twelve days. I turned the prompt into a mystery. Hope you like it.

12 Days of Christmas Gone Wrong

I received the first gift on December 24th. It was sitting on my desk when I got in that morning. The tag read, “To Bethany, The first gift for the Twelve Days of Christmas.” It wasn’t signed. I looked over the four foot cubicle walls. Hardly anyone was in the gaily decorated office. Most of my fellow sales account managers had taken today off to prepare for Christmas Day. Since David and I don’t have kids, I decided to work. With him out of work, every dollar counts.

I opened the festive package. There was no note, but there was a lovely silver picture frame with black velvet trim. How thoughtful, I thought. Just the thing to hold that picture of David and I at our third anniversary dinner last July. I slid the frame into my purse and got to work. There were still four clients I had to finalize sales with.

On the twenty-sixth, I was back at my desk. There were two gifts sitting there each addressed to me and saying they were for the 2nd and 3rd days of Christmas. Joy, across the aisle from me looked over. “They were on your desk when I got in.” She grinned at me. “Who are they from?”

I shrugged. “No idea. I found one on Christmas Eve, too.” I pulled the bows off of them and opened them up. The first was a set of two porcelain teacups and a teapot. All in a Chinese design. Joy’s eyebrows went up. The second gift turned out to be a black lacquer Chinese design tea tray.

Joy got up and stepped over to see. “They’re beautiful!”

I put the pot and cups on the tray. It was obvious the whole thing went together. “I love Chinese tea. These are so nice.”

Joy patted me on the shoulder. “Someone has an admirer.” She went back to her desk.

I shook my head. “I’m happily married. Maybe it’s David.”

Joy smiled. “That is so romantic!”

I busied myself with my clients. I didn’t say anything that night. I didn’t want to spoil David’s fun.

It went on like that for eleven days. After the weekend, I had 3 gifts on my desk. On the twelfth day I was full of anticipation. Each gift had been better than the last but today would be the final gift.

I unwrapped the box before the rest of the account reps arrived. It held a lot of tissue paper but I finally pulled out a photo. My heart stopped. It was a picture of David, sitting at a table. Piles of paper money were in front of him on a table along with a mirror covered with lines of white powder and several handguns. I blinked. This could not be real. I looked around quickly, no one was near though I could hear the voices of the others coming in. I flipped the picture over. “Put $10 grand cash in a holiday bag and leave it on your desk tonight or that photo goes live on the internet tomorrow at noon.”

I sank into my chair, picture in my hand on the desk. Where would I get ten thousand dollars? Why is David with all of that money and guns? Was that cocaine? I stared at the photo. There were other people in the picture but just arms or torsos. No faces. What is going on?

Joy approached with one of the other account managers. I shoved the wrapping paper and box into my trash can and hid it under my desk. The picture I slid into my suit jacket pocket.

“Bethany, did you get a gift today?” she asked as she pulled off her coat. “What was it?”

I shrugged. “Nothing. No gift on the desk this morning.”

Her face fell. “I thought for sure there would be something fantastic. It’s the last of the Twelve Days of Christmas.”

“Yeah. Me too.” I turned on my computer and pretended to work. I’ve got to figure this out. There was no way to pay the extortion. We had about $400 in the savings account. My only hope was to figure out who was blackmailing me. I made two calls to clients then told Joy I had to run an errand. I went to the coffee shop in the next building. At a table near the windows I pulled out a notepad and wrote down the gifts. There had to be a clue here, all of the gifts were thoughtful. The blackmailer knew me and obviously, David.

I wanted to go home and confront David, but there wasn’t time for that. Think! I told myself. Who knows us and has access to my desk? Who would do this? If they really knew us they’d know we don’t have any money. While the gears in my brain spun furiously, I watched a trio of men in the uniform of my building’s maintenance company walk by. One of the men had a snake tattooed around his right wrist.

I stared, then dug the vile picture out of my pocket. One of the hands on that table had that same tattoo!  I tapped the photo on the table while I thought. I didn’t know any of those men. I kept staring at the picture. There it is! I pulled on my coat and went to the police department.

The next morning the police were staked out in my office. The guy with the tattoo showed up at my desk at 3am where they nabbed him.

At 7am David and I were in the police station. The guy and his two partners had photo shopped David’s picture from my desk into their extortion note. The gifts were all stolen property that I had to return. It didn’t matter. David and I signed the last of the paperwork and went out to breakfast, bad guys behind bars.

The End

985 Words

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Last week of the Chuck Wendig Round Robin Challenge

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It’s been a crazy 5 weeks but a lot of fun to try and match voice and tone of previous writers for each story. Today is the last day of the challenge. I’ve picked a story to finish that has been titled, The Green Road. Part One was Snellopy, Part Two was David Kearney, Part Three was Doreen Queen, and Part Four was Samantha Dunaway Bryant. Final part is by me.

I’ll make an effort to track down all of the stories I participated in so you can see how they turned out. They may end up being special posts. I’ll see what I can do. On to The Green Road.

Part One by Snellopy

http://snellopy.blogspot.com.au/2013/11/the-forest-road.html

“Blades out lads it’ll be wet work with this lot, no doubt about that.” Some faces showed smiles, others grimaced but nowhere was fear to be seen. Eagerly they watched the carriage as it moved unsuspectingly into their ambush.

An arrow thunked into the throat of the coachman and the band flung themselves at the road with an animalistic scream. The horses, rearing in fright had their throats slashed – although they were valuable beasts, it would be too long before they could sell them and make a profit. Flintlocks poked through the windows and a few ineffective shots did little more than fill the carriage with smoke before they were torn from their owner’s hands. The door was wrenched from the hinges and the attackers leaned in, keen to ascertain the nature of their spoils.

“God’s teeth!” swore the leader, and he reeled back in shock, for one of the passengers was not human. Large yellow eyes nictitating wildly in the sudden clamour stared back at them from the being trussed up on the floor of the carriage. Green, scaly skin covered its hide, and the other passengers were torn between watching their charge and dealing with the bandits that now milled in confusion on the road.

* * *

Part Two by David Kearney

http://scenesandsequels.wordpress.com/2013/12/04/flash-fiction-challenge-part-2-the-next-200-words/

A blood-curdling screech filled the air.

The leader, Marin, rolled clear of the carriage an instant before a jet of flame engulfed two of his dumbfounded companions and set the carriage on fire. “They’re transporting a dragon!”
Two soldiers burst from the burning carriage, Flintlocks in hand, and opened fire at their scattering foes. Another bandit fell before the pair discarded their spent pistols and reached for the rapiers at their side.

Marin sprang into action, running the first soldier through before he could unsheathe his sword. “Stand your ground lads,” he said. “Surround the wagon.” The second soldier lunged at the bandit leader, who deftly parried the attack then plunged his blade through the soldier’s heart.

As the remaining bandits took up positions around their prize, the air shimmered and became deathly cold. When the flames vanished, the men shifted nervously, looking at Marin with wide eyes. He knew what securing a dragon would mean for his small band. He also knew that the spoils of battle weren’t worth having unless they could be enjoyed. But what he didn’t know was whether his rag tag company could survive a battle with the magician inside the smouldering carriage.

* * *

Part Three by Doreen Queen 

 http://dragonfyreediting.blogspot.com/2013/12/the-forest-road.html

A petite red-head dressed in a green pelisse delicately stepped out of the carriage. Once she stood, she brushed down her jade satin skirts, settled her hands on her hips, and surveyed the band with bright yellow eyes. She grinned up at Marin. “Thanks much, mates. I was growing tired of the accommodations.”

Marin swallowed heavily. “Milday, you are now our prisoner. Come forth and we’ll treat you with all respect. Otherwise, we’ll cut you down where you stand.”

“Really, heavy-handed threats? I expected more from a group of brigands such as yourselves. How on earth will you hold me? I could transform and wipe you out with a single breath.” She picked her way forward around the bodies of the two dead guards. “However, I should be grateful. You freed me from the King’s men. How best can I reward you?” She tapped her chin with a forefinger. “How best, indeed?”

His men looked at him and back at the magician, for a magician she had to be. No one had ever heard of a female magician, let alone one who could transform. Marin knew he needed to take control of the situation before he lost his men.

* * *

Part Four: Samantha Dunaway Bryant

http://samanthadunawaybryant.blogspot.com/2013/12/connect-4-writers-flash-fiction.html

Quickly he sheathed his sword, and stepped towards the magician, one hand gliding into his pocket. She cocked her head at him curiously, in a gesture that was eerily like a bird of prey. Trying to look confident, he wrapped his hand around the small stone he had stolen from the old woman in the woods, praying that it was all it promised to be. The stone seemed to warm in the center of his palm, and he grinned lecherously at the woman.

Pulling her into his arms, he kissed her. As he did, a pulse of energy shot from the stone up his arm and through his mouth into hers. She stiffened, pushing against him for a moment, then went soft. When he let her go, she stood there, looking dazed and fragile. Her eyes had turned brown. The stone had done its work. It wouldn’t hold her forever, but it would give him the time he needed to come up with another plan.

He turned back to the stunned circle of his men, all staring slack-jawed at the dragon-woman-magician who had seemingly been tamed by their captain’s kiss. He tossed back his head and laughed.

“Yes, that will do nicely for my reward,” said Marin.

* * *

Forest Road Part 5 Connie Cockrell

Marin and the band mounted up, the now docile magician on his horse behind him.  He needed to talk to the woman.

The band rode toward their cave hide out. Marin took his opportunity. “Do you know who you are?”

“Lisel Donnough. The magician took over my body two years ago. Can you help me?”

“I don’t know. The spell I used won’t hold the magician long. Can you tell me anything I can use?”

“I know she’s afraid of mirrors. She complains all the time about having a beautiful face but is unable to gaze upon it.”

“Hmm.” Marin called to his men. “Change of plans. We go to High Gate!” He wheeled his horse around.

Half a day later he’d made a deal with the resident wizard. Lisel was put in the center of a ring of mirrors with a hooded ancient crone, bound with ropes, in the ring with her. As soon as the rock spell wore off, the girl began to scream. Her form mutated from green scales to young woman randomly and rapidly. The mirrors were too much. The spirit of the magician escaped to the crone.

Marin received his gold, and the girl.

The End

Working, Working!

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I managed to get the garden cleaned up in time for Saturday’s birthday party for my hubby. Too bad the weather didn’t cooperate. We had 20+ people in our very small living room and kitchen. Didn’t matter. We all had fun and hubby got a great birthday party, Yay! Here’s a picture of the Santa Hat brownies I made for the event.  Image

Sunday we had a quiet day. I had a chance to start developing my book covers for the Gulliver Station series. So far I have draft pencil drawings. Don’t give me too much credit. The drawings look like a 3rd grader did them. However, I chose my font and made note of what goes where. The text, most of the back cover, title and author name is finished on the cover. I spent 3 hours on the background and it’s only partially done. I’m still learning Gimp, so everything takes forever. On the plus side, many of the elements for this book cover can and will be used on the subsequent covers. I love reusable work.

I have a Chuck Wendig challenge, number five of five to complete, and will post it on Friday, as my Friday Flash Fiction. I’m also going to try and post the completed stories I participated in. That may take a few Mondays or maybe special posts. I’m still behind on my 2 Year Novel Course. Sigh, I’ll get to it, I promise. I want that story for my 2014 Christmas book. I need to begin revision on The Challenge. This is the second of my four novel series about Gulliver Station, a SciFi series about a space station. I’m working toward an end of March release for the second book. Book 1, A New Start, was passed to my beta readers Saturday. Stay tuned. Will I make my January release date?

Finally, please have a Merry Christmas and Happy New Year. I appreciate all of my followers for checking in with me each week. I appreciate your support and comments on my posts.

If you’re still looking for a Christmas gift, check out my Christmas Tales. Links are below. In each of those markets you can find my other books as well. Hope you enjoy.

Links:

Don’t forget to sign up for my newsletter where you’ll get first dibs on any promotions, book announcements, and other information. Go to the button on the right side of the blog or go to my Newsletter tab to sign up. http://conniesrandomthoughts.us7.list-manage.com/subscribe?u=8c24bb15bdf9245512f722298&id=0a097feea0

I have an in depth interview on my Smashwords Author page. You can read it here: https://www.smashwords.com/interview/conniecockrell  Don’t see information about me you’d like to know? Leave me your question in my comments and I’ll try to answer it.

Links Christmas Tales:

Apple: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/christmas-tales/id761282885?mt=11Kobo: http://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/christmas-tales-3

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Christmas-Tales-Connie-Cockrell/dp/1494200570/ref=la_B009O6199C_1_4?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1385963121&sr=1-4

Barnes and Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/christmas-tales-connie-cockrell/1117497310?ean=9781494200572

Kobo: http://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/christmas-tales-3

Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/379010

Chuck Wendig’s 5 Week Challenge: Week 4

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This story was kind of left behind. First 200 words is Ely’s and 2nd 200 words is from hpetterson. I did 400 words, to bring the story up to the 4th week. I haven’t titled it and there are only 200 words left for someone to bring this story to a conclusion. They have the honor of titling it. Here’s the link to the 3rd week post. http://hpetterson.wordpress.com/2013/12/06/continuation-of-elys-from-graymatter-com/

About midday the rain stops, the clouds disperse, and the sun leaks through in all too brilliantly visible of rays. If I didn’t know better I would think things are looking up. But natural beauty has a way of blinding us to the darkness hovering behind its mask. Or so I’ve learned through years of frightening observation.

I glance toward my watch and find that I have approximately four hours twenty three minutes and nineteen seconds remaining of my life. Eighteen seconds. Seventeen. Sixteen. The countdown began only this morning, a mere six hours ago when my reality came head to head with my dreams. Really, I knew this day was coming long ago. I had seen it clearly and repetitively since my thirteenth birthday; the city illuminated with the shine born from streetlamps and puddles of rain and my body, bloodied and cold with death, slumped against the Red Panda’s dumpster.

I can’t claim that the absurdity of my gift has not plagued me since its arrival—the question of why—why be given such impeccable foresight if you aren’t meant to change the outcome? Truth is, I know why, this morning’s meeting only proved my theory correct.

“Have a seat there junior.” He said as I entered the booth.

“So…are you the guy?” I said looking at the guy who was dressed like a bum, unshaven and smelling like whiskey.

“For your needs…yes I am the guy…but not I’m not the…the big guy.” He brought up a pint that was wrapped in a paper bag and took a sip.

“I was expecting someone more…more…ah finished looking.”

“Listen up Hemmingway I got all the time in the world…you got what four and a half hours?”

A waitress walked up and looked at the guy across from me and said. “Excuse me sir…you can’t drink that in here…you’ll have to either leave of throw it away.”

“Listen Lisa…your two kids are cute…leave me alone, and I leave them alone…you don’t want little Tommy breaking his left arm again.” He looks at me and smiles.

“How did you know…” She turns and scurries off.

He was here to bargain for my life and I was holding jack shit.

He must be from the nether regions…for every action there is an equal reaction…the fact I had  been dealt four and a half hours to live must mean that there was something just as powerful working for me. 405

Part 3 and 4

I grasp at my only straw. “So, you’re not THE Big Guy. Why the meet?” I leaned back and drummed my fingers on the table. I figure this guy is only going to respect power. I need to project it.

He snorted and took another swig. “Yeah, you’re a goner for sure.”

“Oh, so you know it all?” I roll my eyes. I’m a goner anyway. What’s he gonna do if I piss him off, kill me?

He lunged across the table and jammed a finger in my face. “Listen, Hemmingway, I can off you right now.” He snapped his fingers, a wave of bad breath assaulting me. “Heart attack, stroke,” he waves his empty hand, “it’s all the same to me.”

“And what, throw the Big Man’s plans into a tail spin?” I lean forward and gently shake my finger at him from side to side. “I don’t think so. He might be annoyed. At you.”

He sulked and threw himself into the back corner of the booth to take another swig. “You don’t know jack.”

He had me there. But I was getting a few clues. There was a plan and this joker wasn’t in charge. “So what are you here for, other than to scare poor waitresses?

“Tick Tock,” he grinned with broken, yellowed teeth. “You still have something to do.”

“I don’t have to do a thing,” I told him. But I was thinking feverishly. What do I have to do? Will it change the course of this curse?

He leaned across the table. “Sure you do, Hemmingway. You’ve got four hours and twenty-five minutes to figure it out.” He got up and staggered out of the diner door.

I sank back and ran a hand through my hair. What to do next? Hemmingway, he called me. Sure, I’m a writer, but I barely make enough to cover the groceries. What else? He’s the messenger. I shook my head, that didn’t help me at all. There’s a plan. But all that meant at this point was my demise. But why? Is that the clue? That I’m a writer? My last piece was on the Chinese mob. That might explain the Red Panda dumpster. I dug a fiver out of my wallet and left it on the table. Time to see if, just for once, I could change the vision. 393

Part 3 of the Chuck Wendig Writing Challenge

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Written for the 3rd part of Chuck Wendig’s 5 week flash fiction challenge on Terrible Minds.( http://terribleminds.com/ramble/2013/12/06/flash-fiction-challenge-200-words-at-a-time-part-3/)  Basically, one picks 200 words written by someone else for the first week’s challenge, this one by Fatma Alici, (http://naharavensari.wordpress.com/) then adds their own 200 words to the mix.  Then someone, in this case, Athena, (http://devereauxcourt.blogspot.ca/2013/11/terrible-minds-flash-fiction-challenge_29.html) adds a second 200 words. Below, the story third 200 I added. The story is still untitled.

Next week I’ll give you the current iterations of the story I started and the one I continued last week. I’m finding this writing exercise a lot of fun and am delighted with the way the stories are turning out.



Another shot glass slammed down as Toops flashed her big, black eyes at me.  “Are you going to black out.”  Her tone as dry as the desert planet we had left.

“I never black out. “  I grinned motioning for another shot.  “I’m only resting my eyes.”

Toops rolled her eyes and crossed her arms.   “Yeah, I believe you, Lancer.  I really do.”  Her scarred fingers pushed her still full glass back and forth across the metal bar top.  “Didn’t you say we have a man coming in to offer us a job?

“You handle all the contracts.  I’m your simple minded muscle.”  I winked at her.  “Me big man.  Me hit things hard.”  The burning fire scalded my throat as I took another shot.

Her hand snapped out faster than my eye could follow.  Those strong fingers crushed mine into my palm.  “Do not call for another shot.  I swear I will break your fingers right now.”

A hearty chuckle rumbled up my throat.  “Alright, alright boss lady.”

My fingers were released.  “We are partners.”

“You say that now, but once the client gets here you’ll change your tune.”  She couldn’t deny it.  It was true.

—

The mark joined us not too long after that. I know they’re supposed to be clients, but I can’t help thinking of them as marks. Lancer likes to think of us as noble ruffians, taking on jobs to help the weak and disenfranchised. Truth is, we take on the jobs that pay the most. Sometimes that means we take the client for a bit of a ride.

Lancer was right about one thing: when the client arrives, I play boss. Pretty much have to; no one would buy me as the hired muscle – at least no one with all their bits in tact. Marks are always weary of a girl without a purpose. They’ll buy me as the brains, but not the brawn.

Lancer brought this one in. I let him do that once in a while because it makes him feel like we’re equal partners. More importantly, it makes the marks think that I’m hot stuff. They’re so lucky to get me, I send one of my peons first to see if they’re worthwhile instead of going myself. Doesn’t always work, but when it does, it’s a much bigger payday.

___

Lancer stood up when the client approached the table. I was surprised he could stand after all those shots.

“Master Valmetti.” Lancer performed a miniscule bow. “May I present my partner, Sword Master Toops.”

I stayed seated, if we were going to play me as the boss, I needed to act like it. Master Valmetti swept his linen robes back in an elaborate bow. I nodded my acknowledgement. The robes looked new but not unusual in this climate or part of town. Smart move, not to come to this bar looking rich.

“Pleasure to meet you Master Valmetti,” I said. “What can we do for you?”

He waved the bar keep over. “Three of whatever they’re having,” Valmetti told him. He waited until the drinks came and the bar keep left.

“I need an errand run,” he said in a low voice. “A package needs to be delivered.”

I arched an eyebrow. There were companies who did that for a living. What was the package that he needed the likes of us? “And this package,” I leaned forward, elbows on the table. “It needs ‘special handling’?”

“You’re man told me you were quick.”

Lancer scowled at the ‘your man’ comment.

Friday Flash Fiction: The Hacker and The Girl

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Two weeks ago I joined a writing challenge on Chuck Wendig’s site: Terrible Minds. http://terribleminds.com/ramble/2013/11/22/flash-fiction-challenge-200-words-at-a-time-part-one/comment-page-1/#comments  I wrote a 200 word opening for a story and posted it. I was very interested in what someone else would do with my beginning. While I waited, I went ahead and finished the story. You can see it below. Note: Someone, Ken Crump, did pick up my beginning and wrote a really good 2nd part. You can see it here: http://brickhousepiggy.wordpress.com/2013/12/04/terribleminds-com-flash-fiction-challenge-200-words-at-a-time-part-two/

This is fun! I’ll try and follow the story as others write it and post the links here. In the meantime, here’s my take on the story.

The Hacker and The Girl

Ewan Gilroy backed out of the library stack in a hurry. He peeked around the corner. Oh no.

He crept along the next row to watch the co-ed over the books. Ewan sweated as she checked the paper in her hand. She’s looking for something specific. Can’t be my book, no one’s checked it out in three years. She ran her finger along the titles. He froze as she pulled a book from the shelf. That book has the stolen code. I can’t finish this hack without it!

At the check-out Ewan walked up behind her with a random book.

“Nice to see you again, Brooke,” the librarian smiled. “Science of Computer MetaPhysics and Interdimensional Theory,” she stamped the lending card and her record book and handed the book to Brooke. “Research?”

“From Professor Ingles’ additional reading list for my final paper.” She tucked the book under her arm. “It looks like heavy reading.”

“You’ll do fine. Have a good day.”

“Thanks, you too.” Brooke left.

“May I help you?” the librarian asked.

“Uh, no, changed my mind, thanks.” Ewan dropped his book on the counter and hurried after Brooke. He’d follow her and with luck, get the book back.

Ewan followed Brooke to the Student Union. He called his partner. “Malcomb.”

“Yeah, where are you? I expected you fifteen minutes ago.”

“I’m at the Student Union. Some chick named Brooke snagged the book just before I could. I followed her but I don’t know what to do next.”

“Holy Guacamole, Ewan! If we don’t get this hack done the mob is going to string us up! Why’d you let her get the book?”

Ewan ran a hand through his buzz cut sandy brown hair. “Tell me something I don’t know, Malcomb! How do I get the book away from her?” He could hear the chair Malcomb sat in creaking. Malcomb was a good 300 pounds. He wouldn’t be able to run from the mob.

“I don’t know! See if you can’t borrow it long enough to get the codes out of it.”

“Yeah, good idea.” He hit the end button and hurried to the coffee urn. He didn’t need any more acid in his stomach but it was cheap. Until he could get out from under the gambling debt he and Malcomb owed the Mob, he watched every cent. Taking a breath, he strolled by Brooke’s table. She had the book open to the first chapter. Good, at least she’s not flipping through it.

He stepped past her table then backed up, staring at the book. She looked up at him. Ewan grinned, “Oh, sorry. Isn’t that Science of Computer MetaPhysics and Interdimensional Theory?”

Brooke’s eyes went wide. “Yeah. How did you know?”

“I read that four years ago. Deep topic.” He held out a hand. “I’m Ewan. Nice to meet you.”

She shook his hand. “Nice to meet you. I just started it. I’ve got a paper to write.”

Ewan pulled out the chair next to her. He could hardly breathe looking into those deep blue eyes. Keep your mind on business, he told himself sternly, but it was hard to ignore how fast his heart was beating. “Do you mind?” he asked as he sat. He put the cup down and deliberately tipped it over. Hot coffee sloshed all over the pages.

He leapt up and grabbed the book. “Oh no! I’m so sorry! Let me clean it up.” Ewan ran to the men’s room at the far end of the cafeteria. He ripped paper towels out of the holder and blotted the coffee from each page. The pages mostly dry he flipped the back cover open and pulled up the cover paper. There was a small square of microfilm. He pulled it out, tucked it into his pocket and smoothed the back paper down over the cover. Before he left the bathroom, he grabbed a few more paper towels. On the way to back to Brooke he made a show of blotting the pages. She had wiped up the mess on the table.

“Sorry,” he said. He wadded up the paper towels and gave the table a last wipe. “I hate defacing books. I don’t even write notes or highlight in mine.” He handed the book back to her.

She sighed. “The pages are still wet. I’ll have to dry it open tonight.”

“I’m so sorry,” he apologized again eyes on the table. He looked up at her out of the corner of his eyes. “I feel like such a klutz.”

His tone of voice finally got through to her. She stopped flipping the pages and smiled. “That’s alright. I guess it could happen to anyone.”

Ewan grinned. “Look, I’ve got to go, but I’d love to discuss the book. He scribbled his phone number down on a scrap of paper from his pocket. “Call me.”

She took the paper and nodded.

When Ewan got back to the apartment, Malcomb spun around in his chair. “Did you get it?”

“Yeah.” He pulled it from his pocket. “Who uses microfilm?” He handed it to Malcomb. “Can you read it?”

Malcomb held it up to the light. “Yeah, I can get the data.” He set to work. Now that they had the code, they finished the hack.

Ewan didn’t want to know what the buyer was going to do with a hack into the University’s research center. He only cared that they paid on time. The mob wasn’t going to wait.

Malcomb and Ewan were high-fiving each other when Ewan’s phone rang. “Hey,” he said after checking the screen. “I’m glad you called, Brooke.”

“Yeah, I’d love to meet tomorrow. Coffee at the Student Union sounds great. See you then.” He clicked off, grinning.

“You got a date?” Malcomb asked, wide eyed. “From the chick you poured coffee on?”

“I didn’t pour it on her,” Ewan protested. “But yeah, she seemed to like me.”

Malcomb shook his head. “Unbelievable.”

954 words

Find more of the Forward Motion Flash Friday Group here: http://www.fmwriters.com/flash.html

Chuck Wendig’s 5 week Challenge Part 2: A Million Cats

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I’m participating in a 5 week challenge by Chuck Wendig. The first week I wrote a 200 word story start. You can see it in last weeks blog post.

I sorted through the many fantastic story starts and chose one by Rebecca Douglas. Here’s the link to her blog: http://www.ninjalibrarian.com/2013/11/wendig-challenge-first-200-words.html

My task is to write a 2nd 200 words, moving the story forward. See Chuck’s site, http://terribleminds.com/ramble/2013/11/29/flash-fiction-challenge-200-words-at-a-time-part-two/ to get this week’s rules.

I’m keeping the title Rebecca gave the story so we all have some way to refer to it. So, here’s Rebecca’s start and my addition.

Millions of Cats Part 1 by Rebecca Douglass
November 26, 2013 at 11:52 PM //

Things never worked out according to plan when there were cats involved. I knew that, and I should have known better than to take the job. Either don’t try to plan or stay far from cats, and I knew which would have been better for me. But Keelan made it all sound so easy: we just had to pick up the consignment from Alpha-Centauri 4 and take them to Exilion 17. Four days, max, and two of them in hyperspace.

“What could go wrong?” I should really have run when Keelan said that, because you know as well as I do that anytime those words are uttered you should run, very fast, in the opposite direction.

Unfortunately, we needed cash, and the cat people had it. So we went and picked up the load of cats.

That was where the trouble first began. They were supposed to be crated, sedated, and ready to be picked up by fork lift and stowed in the cargo hold. But when we arrived, a team of cat-wranglers was still chasing them around a pen. We had to wait an extra three days for all of them to be properly prepared for flight.

Part 2: 2nd 200 words Connie Cockrell
Now we were late. We hadn’t started and penalties were being assessed. “Don’t worry,” Keelan said. “There’ll still be plenty of credits. We’ll be able to pay off the bank as soon as we get to Exilion 17.”

I knew better, Murphy’s Law was in full effect. We loaded the crated cats and took off. The first day we built up to hyperspace speed and cleared the solar system. I hit the button. Nothing happened. I stared at Keelan. “I’ll fix it.” He unstrapped. I grunted in reply. He pulled the cover off of the panel after I got up to get some tea. He was tracing the wiring when I came back, cup steaming.

“Got it.” He held up a burnt wire. “I’ll just reconnect the two ends and we’ll be on our way.”

I knew what he meant. He was going to twist the ends together and tape it. I’m supposed to trust my life to that? “What if it fries again? We’ll never get out of hyperspace.”

“No, no,” he mumbled as he twisted the wires. “This will be fine. We’ll get it fixed the right way when we get to Exilion 17.”