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/
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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So glad to be back after such a long break. Summer and my new real person job sucked up most of my time. This #8sunday is with the same male character from my previous one.
Tapping my hand on the knife at my hip, I picked my way around downed trees and smoking craters. It looked like metal glinted from the bottom of one of them, but sulphuric smoke billowed up and choked me before I could get a good look. Spluttering, I backed away, heading towards my neighbours, the Gubsons. A nice middle-aged couple who had had their “miracle” child in their early forties. The trees began to thin and I hurried into the clearing. Black spots swam across my vision. Bookshelf must’ve come down harder than I thought. Taking a deep breath cleared my head and I ran. The twisted remains of wood and metal monkey bars couldn’t take away from the child’s shoe I had seen sticking out from what had been a red plastic tunnel slide.
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I have been trying to write from the male perspective and in a different tone; I am working on an apocalyptic story right now playing with this. Went over a couple sentences, had to chop up some run-on ones happening. The main character, Scott, is a crass young man and survivalist. Slightly crude opening alert. Thanks for reading and check out other awesome writers at wewriwa.com
I always thought when the end came I’d be ready. Safe in my steel-reinforced bunker with a year’s supply of food, water, and weapons. A good woman would’ve been nice, minus the extra yapping mouth to feed. In all those scenarios, I was never jerking off in my living room, porn on, trousers down.
I wrenched my arm from under me to pull my boxers up. They were gritty, but it was better than smashing myself against the ikea monstrosity pinning me to the couch, raining survival books and harry potter down on me. Wriggling my toes, I slithered into the tiny space between the shelf and couch. I brushed the slivers of my Nana’s coffee table from my hairy legs, standing and pulling up my jeans. My eyes adjusted, the bookshelf and coffee table were the only casualties – the shelf a new addition.
“Should’ve bolted it up first thing,” I muttered, wincing when I put weight on my leg.
Thanks again for reading! Don’t forget to check out wewriwa.com #sunday
Happy Easter all! This week’s #8sunday is a short I’ve been working on. A young girl is hardened from her mistreatment over the years by foster parents and plans to get even.
I stared at the sagging wooden bunk above me; the newcomer was crying again. I used to cry, when I first got shoved into this hell hole; when I still had hope that a nice family would come for me and I would get a happily ever after. I now knew better. This was the last stop for kids like us. The child above me hiccupped a few times and was silent, her breathing evening out. I swung my legs over the bed, pulling the jacket from under my bed and holding my shoes in my hand. Our window looked over the dilapidated garage and I slid it open. For weeks I had been greasing it with the slop the adults slid through the crude flap in our door.It slid open without a creak and I sighed in relief.
Thanks for reading, check out other #8sunday awesome writers at wewriwa.com.
For my first 8sunday, I am posting the beginning to an urban fantasy story set in Northern Ontario where werewolf hunting has been legalized. Lex is one of two rogue werewolves hiding in her town. This particular night she has been kept at work too late and is trying to make it home before she turns.
My biceps were burning and shaking, sweat poured down my face as I concentrated on making it to my house. The streetlamp blurred, and I fell to my knee as I felt my ankle pop. I gritted my teeth. I was a half block away and could see my front gate, mostly obscured by the creeper vine I had overtaking my front yard. I pulled myself up using the mailbox and stiffened as a young couple rounded the corner, arm in arm. I limped forward, head bowed; hoping my curtain of black hair would make me unnoticeable. It was not my lucky night.
I am more comfortable writing about magic and witches, but I have to say I kind of loved writing something with a creature beast in it and look forward to where Lex’s story will lead. Happy Sunday all, please check out other writers at www.wewriwa.com