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.
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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.
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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
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/