#8Sunday

Thanks for stopping by for this week’s #8Sunday blog hop, where writers can share 8-10 sentences of whatever project they are currently playing with/working on. I am in a small lull between submission calls and, as such, have been playing with prompts outside of my comfort zone. The sentences below come from a short piece set in a dystopian world, where there will be no happily ever after or revolution. That happened already and they’ve lost. The aftermath is a dictatorship where Survival of the Fittest is the law of the land and the most able bodied men and women have to participate in a Resource Run to to get resources for their families.

I pushed the balls of my feet against the starting blocks. My heart was pounding; I could hear buzzing I was sure was in my head. I took a deep breath; the hot, dry, air filled my lungs. I steadied my hands and looked ahead. I was in my final set of time trials and had two people with starting blocks ahead of mine. If I didn’t beat their times today I wouldn’t start first in the Resource Run. My stomach flipped and I could hear Gavin muttering to himself from somewhere behind me. Gavin used to mutter before all his exams in grade school; I would laugh at how nervous he was. Today I didn’t laugh.

Thanks for stopping by for that short snippet and don’t forget to check out other writers at http://www.wewriwa.com/

Weekend Writing Warriors

#8Sunday

Thanks for stopping by for this week’s WeWriWa, a blog hop where writers can share 8-10 sentence excerpts. This week’s excerpt is from a piece I have been playing with but am not really sure if I it will go anywhere yet. This scene follows after she has just moved into her new apartment, excited about a fresh start after leaving her husband.

I sat up, heart pounding. I looked around the foreign room and took a deep breath as I remembered where I was. I wondered what had woken me as I squinted at the clock showing I had hours left of sleep. A  noise from the hall caught my attention and I automatically turned to shake Rick awake – and then remembered. I ignored the clenching in my stomach and swung my feet onto the cold wood floor. I could see my breath and reached for my white robe. Shrugging into it, I headed towards the crunching noise coming from down the hall. I flicked on the light and blinked in the sudden brightness; my jaw dropped and I rubbed my eyes. There was a two foot tall creature crouched on the arm of my plastic-wrapped couch. He stared at me, his emerald eyes steady with my blue ones as he crunched on whole peanuts.

Thanks for stopping by and make sure to check out other great excerpts at http://www.wewriwa.com/Weekend Writing Warriors

#8Sunday

Good morning Sunday! This most recent break has (finally) not been due to lack of motivation or epic degrees of procrastination. I have had so many deadlines to hit that anything getting written was for submission. Focusing solely on those submissions paid off and I am happy to announce that I have been accepted into the Stitched Smiles Publication anthology for Monsters vs. Zombies. Now that I have a spare moment to breathe, I decided to work through an old book of prompts. This week’s #8Sunday for wewriwa is based on the prompt to “write a paragraph where a character apologises without using the words ‘apologise’, ‘regret’, or ‘sorry’. Thanks for stopping by and make sure you check out other great writers through Weekend Writing Warriors where they will also share 8-10 sentences from their work.

Hudson paused, raking a hand through his hair, helpless.

“Stacey, please, I want to fix this; I should have called you when I got home.”

“That’s not all Hugs, you’ve been gone three months, I’ve been waiting. I find out you’re home by seeings pics on facebook of you at a bar – what the hell?” Stacey raised her eyebrows, tears shimmering in her green eyes.

“Baby I messed up; I don’t know what I was thinking – I wasn’t thinking. I will do whatever I need to do.”

Stacey stared at her boyfriend of two years, chewing her lip. When she didn’t say anything, Hudson continued, scooting closer so their knees were touching.
“Baby, you know you’re the woman I want. You’re my priority and I know I didn’t make you feel that way – from now on, I promise, i will. Can you forgive me? Please? I’ve missed you so much.”

Stacey nodded, letting Hudson take her into his arms.

Thanks for stopping by, check out other #Sunday posts here WeWriWa

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#8Sunday Weekend Writing Warriors

Thanks for stopping by on your Sunday blog-hop. This week’s WeWriWa snippet. is from an old piece I’ve dusted off and decided to try to work on again. In this scene, our survival-ready guy  (one of the issues I have yet to name my main man), having woken up under his one piece of furniture not bolted to the walls, leaves his home.  After what he assumes was an earthquake or blast of some sort, he stumbles to the edge of his neighbour’s property, seeing a child’s shoe poking from the twisted remain of a playground.

Taking  a deep breath cleared the spots from my vision and I ran. I fell to my knees in front of the flattened, red, plastic tunnel, trying to get a better view. I could see Michael Gibson, motionless, his blonde curls matted with dark blood, his eyes closed as though he were taking a nap. Reaching into my bag I pulled out a crowbar and levered the wood plank off the boy’s leg. He slid the rest of the way down, landing in a broken heap on my knees. Fingers to his thin neck, I held my breath. I felt a hopeful flutter and scooped him up, sprinting towards the two-story country home. Opening the door, I saw that the Gibson’s kitchen had anything bolted to the walls.

“Michael! Oh my God! Michael! Michael! Dean, get in here!”  Mrs. Gibson was sitting against the flowered kitchen wall, her green fridge across her thighs, her slender feet at odd angles poking form underneath.

Thanks again for stopping by and reading! Don’t forget to check out other great writers pariticpatning in this week’s #8Sunday at http://www.wewriwa.com/

Fearsome Friday

Thanks for stopping by on this beautiful sunny Friday! I haven’t been able to do much writing this week, I have been eyeball-deep in editing. In lieu of a short piece today I have included one of my favourite scene from the story I have been editing. What I love about this scene is that Lex (finally) seems to werewolf-up to protect her family and shows some spine. I have not yet done the thorough editing on this scene, it’s a little bit long,  but wanted to share it’s rough beginnings. As always, thanks for reading!

When I was a kilometer away I could smell them. The acrid stench of sweat and fear overlayed with a smell I could only place as excitement. I recognised one scent marker as that of the younger, fatter guy that had first stalked and caged me. There were two scent markers I couldn’t place. The forest turned to shades of grey and I knew my eyes had shifted. I came to the top of the hill overlooking our home. Cheri was crouched behind the wood pile that wrapped around the cabin, Ben cradled in her lap. She met my eyes and hers widened. I didn’t want to know what I looked like right now, only my eyes and ears had shifted. I could see Danny, in front of the house, struggling with the larger man and another human. A tall, thin, man was creeping around the cabin, hitching his sagging jeans up to his lean hips as he walked. He had a tranquilizer gun in one hand and brass knuckles decorating his other hand. I waited until he saw Cheri, his lecherous grin displaying gaps where teeth should’ve been. Cheri tucked Ben behind her, crouching low. To the hunter it looked like she was protecting her young. I could tell she was ready to attack.

<<Wait>> I said, and Cheri stilled, her eyes never leaving the skinny hunter. He took a step forward, slowly aiming his dart gun. When he shifted its weight I pounced, my feet landing on his back, flattening him to the ground. I heard something snap and I jumped off. I grabbed his right shoulder and he screamed – guess I found the broken bone. I squeezed harder, flipping him onto his back.

“Why are you here” I growled. When he met my eyes I smelled urine. He knew what I was.

“Shane said…Shane said some werebitch lived up here and was all by herself”

“Shane said that did he? And is Shane the pudgy sweaty one?”

Lean-man nodded, his cap falling back.

“Cheri, take Ben inside,” I said, not glancing up from the human quivering at my feet.

My insides burned, sweat pouring down my face as I tried not to give in to my beast. Zeke was right; I was beyond needing to change.

Cheri moved faster than I thought her protruding belly would allow, and ushered Ben through the back door.

“P-please, we won’t tell anyone. I just thought he was jokin’. He’s always goin’ off bout somethin’, ya know?” his eyes rolled, reminding me of a deer looking for an escape before he accepts his end. His adrenaline spiked, and I could hear his heart hammering in his chest. I liked it. 

“What’s your name?” 

“G-gavin”

“Well, Gavin, what if I let you go?” I asked, trying to focus on his eyes, remember that he was human and I was not an animal.

“Th-then I’ll leave. I’ll never come back. Promise.” Hope surged through him, cutting through the fear, pouring from his glands.

I pushed down on his shoulder once more. He screamed, eyes fluttering.

“You might want to get that looked at,” I said, shoving him away.

He stumbled, trying to run from me.

“And Gavin?” I called softly and he jerked around.

I leafed through the wallet I had taken from his jeans.

“I see here you don’t live too far. Don’t forget your promise,” I said tossing the wallet at his feet. Tears streamed down his face and he grabbed the wallet, dropping his dart gun in the dirt before hightailing it down the mountain. When he was out of view, I crouched low, moving around the side of the cabin. I could hear grunting from a fight and peered around the corner. Danny was bleeding, his back cut up. He stood, guarding Charles, in human form, and a small wolf, both unconscious. I squinted and could pick out the red markings of the adolescent wolves. Blood thundered in my ears as Danny roared, throwing off the hunter. The hunter was fast, getting off a shot, hitting Danny in the side. He went down, the ground trembling as he hit. The movement startled a young wolf and she fell from the branch where she had been hiding. The hunter wasted no time in sticking her with a dart, her wide eyes catching mine before she crumpled. I looked up – the rest of my pack was in the trees, all in human form.

They were afraid because they were alone. They had no Alpha to lend them strength, no leader to rally behind. My breath came in fast bursts and I saw Shane, my mystery hunter from the other night, hauling a wolf’s body into the back of his truck. I caught sight of a shaggy black tail and my heart dropped. My vision blurred then came sharply into focus. I screamed, racing towards the trigger-happy hunter. I jumped on his back, a cruel mockery of the chase Zeke and I had been playing not an hour ago. I used his size and momentum, tightening my thighs around his torso. When I squeezed there was no give like with Zeke, his bones weren’t made to bend like ours. His two right ribs cracked and he dropped to his knees, pushing at my chest, trying to rip my arms from his neck. I jumped up when he went to all fours, immediately slamming my knee into his clavicle, smiling when I felt the crunch of more bone giving way. I extended my boot, knocking the wind from him. He curled into himself and I kicked the dart gun away.

“Leave, now. Go find Gavin, settle in at his place on Maple and talk about how you can make your miserable lives a little brighter,” I said, watching as he limped as fast as he could down the mountain. It had taken less than fifteen seconds to bring him down. I rounded on Shane, the tell tale stench of booze-soaked sweat emanating from him in toxic waves.

“Guess you’re the werebitch after all. Can’t wait to let your boss know,” he walked towards me, casual, ready with his gun.

“What makes you think I’ll let you get back there?” I asked. My voice was steady and I wiped blood from my face. Shane looked around, noticing for the first time that he was alone.

“I have every right to hunt here!” He spread his legs, planting his feet; his body still blocking my view of Zeke, unconscious in the back of his truck.

“You have no rights here,” my voice thundered, sending birds flying from the trees.

Two pack members dropped down, standing behind me. One after another, adults, teens, and kids, dropped behind me.

“Thanks for revealing yourselves,” Shane sneered, the motion curling his lip grotesquely.

“You are not free to leave, you have come onto our territory and we protect what is ours,” I said, moving forward. My head was buzzing, my claws extending, fur sprouting from my forearms. I needed to focus. I could not lose Zeke right now.

Shane backed up, moving closer to the front of his truck’s cab.

“Return him to us,” I said, motioning to Zeke. His giant body took up the entire back of the trucks’s bed.

“He’s mine. Bagged and tagged. Take it up with the authorities,” Shane wiped sweat from his brow and shuffled another foot closer to his truck.

“On this land, we are the authorities.”

I moved fast, launching myself at him. My claws dug into his fat sides, slicing his belly to ribbons. He shrieked, blood soaking through his bright orange safety vest.

I felt my face elongate, muzzle replacing mouth and didn’t hesitate. His eyes were rolling back, and fear saturated the air. I sunk my teeth into his neck, tearing at sinew and ligaments. Blood sprayed across my face and the ground, pulsing. His legs gave a last twitch and then he was still; his hulking mass taking up too much space. I stood, wiping my mouth with the back of my sleeve. My muzzle was gone, and the forest was green once more. At least I knew I was fully in one form.

“Dinner.” I said and the pack converged on the fallen hunter. 

Thanks again for stopping by, see you next Friday!

 

Fearsome Friday

Coming off the long weekend, Friday seemed like Thursday, so here we are, a day late and a dollar short but posting nonetheless. As always, thank you for taking the time to check out this week’s Fearsome Friday.

Sweat trickled down my forehead, running rivulets through the dirt smeared across my face. At this point everything felt like it was coated and grimy. The air was thick, the humidity making it difficult to draw any breath. I wiped my forehead, leaning on my shovel and surveying the gardens around me. I thought of the day we had moved into our small cottage, surrounded by forest for miles. The look on Paul’s face when he saw the potential for beauty, for his gardens. He was always so positive.

“A lilac tree will look beautiful here, just fantastic. You can read under it, do your knitting if you like.” He had smiled then, blue eyes twinkling when he looked at me, his young wife. He had the next fifty years mapped out in his head, a quiet life, together. Some plans just don’t work out. 

I looked over to the lilac tree now, large after fifteen years, flourishing in ways our relationship hadn’t. My throat tightened, wishing I had been more enthusiastic, more positive. No matter, I would finish this last project. For Paul.

I readjusted my sun hat and got back to work, arms aching with the weight of the dirt. I couldn’t stop, I needed to get this done before it rained, and the scorching sun was now being intermittently blocked by dark clouds. I took advantage of the shade and finished digging in ten minutes.  I dropped my shovel, looking  down at my project, the centerpiece of Paul’s garden. I thought of him, a laugh escaping when I imagined how he would react, knowing what I had dug was not measured out exactly. It would have to do. I sighed, using my legs to lift the ‘growth medium’, Paul’s favourite subject to talk about. I dragged it over and let it fall.

The sheet flapped as it landed at the bottom, six feet down. That I had measured. Paul could finally stop lecturing. I looked down at his face, finally peaceful, finally silent and I sighed, relieved. It was quick work to cover him up, planting roses on top, forever beautiful, forever in his gardens.

Thanks for stopping by, have a great weekend. See you next Friday!

Fearsome Friday

Happy Friday everyone – and the Friday of a long weekend at that! Here’s to hoping this May 2-4 stays sunny and hot, ushering in our short yet savoured summers. Thanks for stopping by to check out this week’s Fearsome Friday.

“God what a crazy night, I can’t believe so many people called in. Lazy long-weekend assholes,” Becky laughed, putting up the last few chairs in the bar while Dave counted his tips from the night.

“Yeah, but at least it meant more money for us,” he winked, fanning out his twenties.

“True. God I can’t wait to get out of here. I took off the next couple days, patios here I come,” Becky’s laugh tinkled  in the empty bar.

“I’m gonna change and I’ll help with the chairs, ” Dave said, disappearing into the back.

“Yeah, I’ll bet you will,” Becky muttered, shaking her head but smiling, hoping Dave would ask her out for a drink after he was changed.

A moment later, the lights went out, the only light the red emergency sign and light by the doors.

“Hey! Dave! Not funny!” Becky yelled, annoyance colouring her tone. He knew how freaked out she got here by herself after close.

Becky felt her way along the bar, fingers light on the just-wiped and wet bar top.  A chair behind her fell and she jumped, squinting in the dark.

“Dave? You can come out now,” Becky said, trying to sound teasing. She didn’t want him to think she couldn’t handle a joke. The bar music came on, the late night bass echoing. Becky’s throat tightened, her heart speeding up as she spun towards the music system, far from the chair that had toppled.

“Dave?” her voice shook and she moved to the back of the restaurant, trying to find her coworker.  

She saw a figure dart around the corner, the shadow bouncing on the far wall, under the emergency light. She heard deep laughter and sighed in relief. She could play games too.

“Dave, I’m gonna get you!” she laughed, running towards the light, music reverberating in her chest as she skidded around the corner, staring at the empty hall. The music stopped and she could hear footsteps from the bar again. 

“You owe me  a drink when I catch you buddy,” she yelled, following the retreating sound of steps. She slowed when she reached the bar area once more, feeling her way along the barstools. Squinting, she could make out Dave, sitting at the table where he had just counted his night’s earnings. 

“How about that drink?” Becky said, her voice low. About a foot away she slipped in a puddle, cursing the cleaning staff as she fell on her ass. 
“Thanks for the help; what’s your problem?” she muttered, pulling herself up when Dave didn’t move to help.

When she was standing, the lights came back on, and Becky could see her friend, propped against the bar, a knife sticking out of his chest. Blood dripped from him rhythmically, forming the pool Becky had just slipped in.

Becky screamed, the sound echoing in the empty restaurant as she read the note attached to the knife, “Tag, you’re it.” 

Thanks for reading, see you next Friday!

 

 

#8 Sunday WeWriWa

It’s been a rainy weekend so far, but, sometimes, that kind of snuggle-up with coffee and a good book weather is totally needed. Thanks for taking the time out of your cozy weekend to stop by and check out this week’s #8Sunday WeWriWa snippet. While I’ve been working on other stories for submission, I keep coming back to Lex. One day, Lex, we’ll unleash you on the world. For now, she can be found below, waking up after having been captured in the woods by two foul-mouthed hunters she had encountered before (but in human form).

“Look who’s up!” The fatter one punched the older one in the arm, hefting his jeans up when he stood. I growled when they approached the cage.

“Now, are you a regular wolf or did we catch a were bitch?” The fat one laughed, the smell of booze and cigarettes strong.

“How do we make ’em turn? We gotta know if we’re gonna try to sell ‘er to Cyrus.”

“You’re right. Hmm, plus then we can see what kinda penny we can get fer her. Maybe she’s cute. Maybe I’ll keep ‘er fer myself, we’ll ask Cyrus when he gets here,” the fat one leered at me and I snapped at the bars, baring my teeth.

Sweat dripped down his mottled face. He was afraid. I prowled the cage, shoving my weight against the sides and rattling the bars.

Thanks again for stopping by and make sure to check out other great authors and snippets on http://www.wewriwa.com/

Friday the 13th

Happy Friday the 13th! The rain  is unrelenting, the sky is grey and, in my opinion, welcoming this eerie day. I have hazelnut coffee and the weekend is upon us – life is good. I’ve been trying to think of themes in order to post (I know, I know, I should just post but here we are).
I’m hoping to start posting snippets of stories, complete shorts, and grisly encounters every Friday, what better way to start a couple days off than in fear? And what better way to kick it off than Friday the 13th?
Without further ado, here is this week’s Fearsome Friday.

Gage gripped his teddy bear, squeezing so the glass eyes bulged, threatening to pop out. The soft fabric, which he always loved against his face, was now jammed into his mouth, catching any scream that dared to escape. He counted to ten, as high as he could. When he got to ten he started back at one, the numbers in his head going by in time with the heavy, wet steps, ascending the stairs outside his bedroom.  One…two…three…his mom’s head popped under the bed.

“Do not move hunny, promise me. You are so brave. I love you baby,” She squeezed his shoulder and pulled a box in front of him, blocking his view of the door. 

Three…four…five…the steps stopped outside his door and he heard a sniffling noise, like the neighbour’s dog. His door creaked, the fetid stench of the demons making him squeeze his eyes shut, pushing his bear hard into his lips.

Six…seven…his mom was pleading with the creatures, useless. He heard her scream cut short and it sounded like she was gargling, gasping for  air…then silence. 

Eight…nine….ten…the monsters left. Gage wouldn’t break his promise to his mom. He stayed under the bed, listening to the screams of the neighbourhood as his mother’s blood seeped under the bed, coating his bear.

Thanks for reading, see you next Friday!

Short with Dark Chapter Press

I am excited to say that I have been selected as one of the two winners for Dark Chapter Press’s January flash fiction contest for my story, Truck Stop. Truck Stop follows a young woman, who escapes the snowy night by hitchhiking , only to have that night take a dark turn. You can read it, and the other winner, ‘Til Death by Michael James Parker, here http://January Flash Fiction Competition Winner #2 The Truck Stop by Kristen Clark . Thanks for stopping by!