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Finally coming around to this thread and it looks awesome and fun as hell for getting in weekly prose practice. That being said, I've read the OP and I'm still a little confused. Do you just wait until the next weekly topic, submit an "In", and then craft your story with a flash rule twist? Do you make the flash rule for yourself or does someone else assign it to you? What happens if you are "In" but don't submit an entry by the deadline? And also, if I want to duel someone, I just say I'm throwing down right? Sorry if these questions are really basic.
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Nov 7, 2013 19:58
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| # ¿ May 1, 2024 07:51 |
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Sitting Here posted:^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^blarg Okay, so you potentially have a full week to work on something (when the weekly topic is announced) but could be as short as two days time to write if you wake up on Friday and you're like "poo poo, better write my weekly scrawl!"? [e]: And for "homework", do you submit that here or just keep it in your personal collection?
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Nov 7, 2013 22:58
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Count me in.
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Nov 12, 2013 01:11
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The Tyger (933 Words) You wouldn’t blame me for making a mistake, would you? I was only sixteen. We were supposed to celebrate the beginning of my first year of high school. If only I did… Something more. Well, it wouldn’t really make sense starting from the end right? — “Shane!” my friend called for me ahead, “Come look at this!” Nicolas waved me over, a grin spread on his face. The sign overhead read: “TIGERS” “These tigers are really loving stupid. Come on, I’ll show you!” I followed my friend Nicolas over to the exhibit. “TATIANA,” the panel read, “SIBERIAN TIGER” Nicolas and I had met at the beginning of summer while I was visiting my new high school in San Francisco. He thought himself an alpha male senior-to-be at the school, being the junior varsity captain of the men’s soccer team and all. I was a recent transplant from the Midwest and he showed me around. I trusted him, and respected him. Nicolas leaned on the panel. “Shane, what if we got Tatiana to roar? You’d probably poo poo yourself!” He smiled again. He liked to mess with me, sometimes too much. Others just happened to be unfortunate bystanders. “Nick, I don’t think we should be back here so late,” I protested, “The zoo is starting to close. Plus, It’s getting dark already. The guards are probably out here looking for people like us and I’d rather not show up home in the back of a police car. “I’ve had enough issues with my Mom getting on my case for taking a few shots on my birthday because of you. It was fun, sure, but that’s not the point! I would just rather not gently caress up things any more at home before school starts up again. I’d like to party still during the school year, you know!” Nicolas and I peered through the rails. A steel wall 12.5 feet tall and a dry moat 33 feet wide separated us and the 242-pound animal. Tatiana lay curled on her nesting place, one paw out stretched. Her eyes met Nicolas’, then glanced away lazily. She ignored me. “See? I don’t think she even knows we’re here!” Nick gave his usual high-pitched haa sound whenever he got excited about something. “Shane, grab me a stick.” “Um, why?” “Trust me, it’ll be funny. Just grab me a stick and give it to me.” With some hesitation, I did as he told me. I walked across the way to a nearby bush, grabbed a branch then snapped off a piece. I handed the stick to Nicolas. “Whatever it is you’re doing, just do it quick, okay?” I looked at Nicolas, then the ground. When I looked back at Nicolas, I saw him reaching through the guard rail. Obviously he was trying to provoke the tiger into doing something. I stepped to his side and looked through the rails. Tatiana’s dark eyes were locked on the leafy branch Nicolas now taunted her with. Her tufted ears, once fluttering absent-mindedly, were now cocked back sharply. Her black lips parted to reveal yellowed teeth, faintly bending into a scowl. A low, guttural growl rumbled slowly through her opened mouth. This was so incredibly stupid, I thought. Why was I letting my friend piss off this gently caress-off huge tiger from Siberia and not doing anything about it? Why? “Seriously? What are you doing man? We shouldn’t be out here.” I nudged Nicolas on the shoulder, “Come on, let’s go.” “Hold on, dude. Just, let me get this lion to roar at us and we’ll leave, I promise we’ll go then. Hold on.” Nicolas pulled his arm back out from the rails. He tossed the branch to the side and grabbed the rails with both hands. Before I realized what was happening, he started making his way up. “Whoa. Dude, dude! No, what are you doing?” I tried hard to restrain myself to avoid attracting any unwanted attention. I just stared up at him. One, two, not even three seconds — and he was straddling the fence, one leg over the edge already. “Relax. I’ve got this.” He looked down at me hard in the eyes, “You’ve always freaked out about poo poo like this, and then what? Nothing bad happens - at least not for the long run, right? Let me have this, okay?” Nicolas turned to face the animal. He waved. The low growl grew nearer, and louder. “Okay, I think she’s going to roar now! Come on, Shane, go up to the bars already and check this out with me! She’s probably going to roar any second now!” Thoughts raced in my head. I could only look at the ground. poo poo, this is bad. We need to go, now! Didn’t this tiger attack a zookeeper last December? Oh poo poo, we have to leave… What should I do? I paused. I noticed my heart was pounding. I was suddenly searching for my breath. “Dude, this isn’t funny. If you don’t leave with me right now, I’m going to have to leave without you.” I heard a shriek. I looked up. I gasped. No sooner had the words left my mouth did my breath stop in my throat. My friend was struggling desperately, shrieking, on the top of the wall. His torso, unseen, dangled in the tiger’s domain. I heard horrible squelching noises and snarling from the other side of the wall. Nicolas’s eyes were fixed on mine. In them was a mixture of panic, pain, and sadness. They burned through, into me. “Help me!…” And just like that. He was gone. Teriyaki Koinku fucked around with this message at 05:35 on Nov 17, 2013 |
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Nov 17, 2013 05:24
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drat, didn't expect to get such a beating. And Dishonorable Mention? Cliches? Stealing? Ouch, I know I can do better than that. To redeem myself, In: Prompt: A crime has taken place prior to the story's opening line. Select two things from THE LIST and declare which two you are using in your signup post. They must be included in your story somehow. Very close substitions for setting/genre fit are allowed. THE LIST, PICK TWO: * A sumptuous buffet of hideous delicacies. * Big game hunting. For chickens. Wordcount: 1200 words. Here's to at least Honorable Mention. 
Teriyaki Koinku fucked around with this message at 14:57 on Nov 18, 2013 |
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Nov 18, 2013 14:50
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| # ¿ May 1, 2024 07:51 |
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Trying to squeeze this one in under word count, feel free to judge/critique me harshly. Enjoy! ~~~ THE LIST, PICK TWO: * A sumptuous buffet of hideous delicacies. * Big game hunting. For chickens. Baptism by Blood (1,196 Words) Dave’s thoughts were focused on one thing: April. His lungs were full of fire. Lightning shot through his legs as he ran through the forest. A solemn silence hung in the air as dark clouds gathered. A murmur of thunder rumbled as raindrops began to fall. The arthritic knees, the creeping chill — none of that were important now. His daughter was in the hands of a madman somewhere. She must be found. That’s all that matters. Dave clutched his Garmin. On it were the coordinates that would lead him to his daughter. If she is there, she will be alive. She has to be. Guilt held a tight grip over Dave’s heart. He spent the weekend in California on a business trip. Of course she was adult enough to stay by herself at the house over the weekend, he didn’t argue with that. I hate you! The words hung heavy in his mind. Before Dave left, he confronted April over an older student she was caught fooling around with at school. He is a bad influence, he told her, you need to stay away from him. I am an adult! I don’t care if I’m seventeen and I’m under your roof, I can still make my own decisions! Stop treating me like a child! When Dave came back on Sunday night, she was gone. He tried calling the boyfriend, he had no clue where she was. The school had no answers. When he notified the police, they said they had few leads but would continue searching for the girl. They would notify him when they found her. Useless bastards, he thought. Nothing turned up. On Tuesday, Dave fretted at home, still waiting for an answer. That afternoon, he received a text. It read, simply: “I HAVE APRIL. COME ALONE. TELL NO ONE. BREAK MY TRUST, SHE DIES. COORDINATES BELOW.” Dave then received a second MMS text. It was a picture of April, blindfolded on the floor. “DINNER BEGINS PROMPTLY AT 8 PM.” The light drizzle turned slowly to rain. Another burst of thunder echoed through the valley. The ground was a slurry of dead leaves and mud. Dave lost his footing in the sludge and slipped, catching himself on all fours. Is this my punishment? Does God want me to suffer? Before April could waddle, her mother was dead. Marrying someone else was out of the question for Dave. April was all he had left. The signal was coming closer on the GPS. In the distance, Dave saw a dilapidated shack between the trees, caving in on one side. He stepped gingerly across the crumbling mess of broken bricks and sheet metal. Around the corner, Dave found what seemed like what he was looking for: a trap door buried in the earth. The bronze hatch had a circular handle, seemingly waiting to be opened. A flash of light. A crackle of lightning snaked its way across the sky. A deafening boom followed. The rain, already steady, became a downpour. Dave knelt down by the trap door and gripped the handle with both hands. He tugged hard against the handle and slowly felt it give way. He lifted - straining - and finally pulled the hatch open. A ladder invited him into the darkness below. Dave had no choice but to oblige. He climbed down into the darkness. The air felt oppressive. As Dave touched the ground, he stared back up at the open sky. The thunder was distant, the rain remote. Dave shivered, remembering the cold. Dave looked into the darkness ahead. He grasped at the cell phone in his pocket Tell no one. Break my trust, she dies. Dave bit his lip, then he pulled out the cell phone and turned it on to light the path. Time passed as he walked through the darkness. He felt naked, vulnerable and alone. At last, Dave came to a dead end. He directed the light on the bedrock wall. Set in the walls was an ornate wooden door. The door knob was replaced by a golden lion head. Dave gripped his hand on the door knob. Thoughts streamed through his mind. She is going to be behind this door and she’s going to be okay. We’re going to get out of here together. She has to be in there. Dave steadied himself and then twisted the door knob. The door opened. Immediately, a horrible stench poured out and Dave gagged as he cupped his nose and mouth. The smell of spoiled, raw meat filled the air and invaded his senses. There was no place to turn to escape the awful aroma. Dave braced himself and entered the room, but was not ready for what he saw. Beaks. Feathers. Hearts. Lungs. Chicken guts were strewn across countless plates, resting in piles of coagulated blood. A gruesome display of haute cuisine if there ever was one. Silverware and plates were arranged as if the chef were expecting many more guests. Even the wine goblets were filled with blood. Then, Dave had noticed the walls. Chicken heads were mounted on plaques on the walls, covering every square inch from floor to ceiling. They stared back at Dave, blankly, frozen corpses in an audience of death. Where is April? Why is she not here? Where is everyone? Dave made his way to the back of the dining hall. He grabbed a steak knife, just in case he should find the bastard responsible. There was a second door, again with a lion’s head door knob. Dave opened the door. Before him was a long hallway. A trail of blood and chicken guts followed the path. The blood and gore grew more plentiful as Dave walked along. At last, another door — this time a steel door. Blood bubbled out from beneath the frame. Suddenly, Dave noticed a noise from behind the door. It was faint. It sounded almost like… Crying? A female voice. Was it April? A sense of doom crept through Dave’s mind. What if the man who took April was in there with her? Could he fight him off? What would he do? Dave gripped the knife in one hand, the door knob with the other. If that guy is in there, he thought, I will just have to take him down quickly. I can do it, just one quick swing. One last breath, and then Dave swung open the door. What he found shocked him. It was April. She was covered in blood, sobbing as she knelt down. A knife stained with fresh blood lay at her feet. A lanky man dressed in hunting gear lay face down, still more blood seeping out from beneath him. As soon as she noticed Dave, April sprang up. They embraced, now sobbing together. Between choking sobs, April spoke softly, “He made me eat chicken guts and drink their blood. He kept me alive on that awful poo poo. He was going to kill you. I had to make a decision. I… had to kill him. Please, forgive me…” April wept, burying her face in her father’s chest. They remained embraced, sobbing together in the carnage that surrounded them. At least now they were safe, if not sound. Teriyaki Koinku fucked around with this message at 07:16 on Nov 24, 2013 |
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Nov 24, 2013 06:57
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