Prompt

I started taking a Fiction Writing course today, so I'm going to try to post more! Hooray! We had an exercise in class. My instructor wanted us to write a short piece (about 100 words) about something we're working on or something we read. I decided to write about something I attempted to read, but couldn't:

Vampires do not sparkle. They charm you while sucking the blood from your veins, and ripping the heart from your chest. Women are not subservient. They do not anticipate your presence with every last pathetic breath they take. Staring them down, obsessively protecting them, and not accompanying a personality with that corpse of a face won't make a woman swoon. I like a beating heart and a set of balls with my men, and an independent spirit and a self sufficient mind for my women. Stephanie Meyer will not mold me into her definition of obsession...oh wait, sorry... "love".

Stream of Concious April 11, 2010

The adorable kid in the pigtails with the ridiculous face? Yep, that’s me. That picture was printed in the Philadelphia Inquirer big enough so my grandmother could show her Bingo buddies from 5 feet away. My parents scrambled to buy copy after copy of that issue of the Inquirer. I think everyone in my family has at least two copies. I was the talk of the town, and I was so proud of it.

I remember the reporter being in my gymnastics class, and the photographer taking pictures of each kid jumping off of the balance beam. When it was my turn to jump I knew exactly what face to make. I knew how I could make that photographer think that he had captured the perfect picture. It was all me. His talent had nothing to do with it.

I hated gymnastics. I hated the way it made me feel, and I hated the way it made me look. You could never tell by that picture. I always knew what it took to get in the paper, get on television, get the lead, or get noticed. I could make them laugh with me, cry with me, hate me, and love me all in one night.

Getting a large group of people to love you is easy, too easy. It’s getting those one on one relationships. Getting one person to love you at a time.... that's the hard part.

So what face do I need to make? Tell me, and I'll do it.

Tweet me a Story Contest #2!

I entered NYC Midnight's Tweet me a Story contest again. I had to submit 3 stories with 140 characters using the word running.

1) It didn't matter how far I was running, or how much the pain consumed me. All that mattered was she was waiting for me.

2) She sat there reciting her chit chat while my bowls were running to my ass. I had to find a bathroom before this date got too memorable.

3) You look like a mermaid threw up inside an Andy Warhol exhibit. My brothers laughed, and I was sick and tired of being the running joke.

The Lesson

So I made it to the second round of the Creative Writing Championships! Whoo hoo! I wrote this story in like an hour. Ugh, and I went through a half a bottle of wine...so I really don't know how it is. We'll see when I'm sober! But for right now you can read it! Hooray exclamation points!

The Lesson

Jeanette and Kevin DeLaney seemed like the perfect couple. Kevin’s incredible golfing career provided his family with a million dollar home, a pair of Mercedes Benz, and a comfortable cottage conveniently located far from any prying eyes of the media. The pair spent their summers comfortably in the Hamptons with their son Nicholas.

Nicholas was nearly two years old, with every syllable he attempted to speak, and every step he attempted to walk; Jeanette was mesmerized with love and encouragement. Kevin had always wanted a little boy, but he wasn’t willing to trade his lineage for his wife’s affection.

On this particular afternoon Kevin and Jeanette were sitting on their private pier overlooking the bay. The breeze off of the quiet horizon swept past Jeanette’s cheeks and tossed her hair about. Nicolas sat quietly between Kevin’s legs as he stood prominently trying to catch the night’s dinner.

“Did you polish Roger this morning?” Kevin didn’t even turn to look at his wife while asking what he thought was a perfectly normal question. Roger, was the first golf club Kevin ever owned. He kept it in a glass case and traveled with it wherever he went. It was Jeanette’s daily chore to polish the old rusty 9 iron.

“I’m on vacation, Kevin.” Jeanette pressed a slim cigarette between her lips and slowly inhaled. Here eyes, likewise, did not meet Kevin’s. She stretched back and let the sun soak over her body.

“Foot! Foot!” Nicolas taped on Kevin’s big toe, and laughed at the sound of his own voice. Kevin looked down at the creature that was invading his toenail.

“Why are you being a bitch?” Kevin shooed Nicolas away from his foot, but Nicolas proceeded to use his appendage as a toy.

“I don’t have time for this shit, Kevin.” Jeanette turned her face away from him. “I’m here to forget about my problems, not be reminded of them.”

Nicolas continued to tap on Kevin’s big toe. His laughing echoed through Kevin’s ears, which made his stomach turn. Kevin moved his foot again, but Nicolas wouldn’t stop laughing and playing. “Jeanette, why does he keep playing with my foot?”

“I don’t know. Maybe he wants to play with his father? You know, learn a thing or two?” Jeanette turned back to face Kevin. “Isn’t that what a father does? Plays with his children?”

Nicolas laughed and looked over to his mother. Jeanette smiled and waved to her son, and began to laugh as well. The sight of Jeanette’s laughter sent Nicolas into a hysterical fit of laughter. He slammed his fists down onto Kevin’s feet, and with every laugh his fists slammed down harder and harder onto his toes.

“Learn something?” Kevin looked down, and rolled his foot around Nicolas’ head. Nicolas giggled and stretched his hands forward, trying to catch Kevin’s big toe. Kevin smiled, then placed the flat of his foot directly onto Nicolas’ face. Nicolas’ muffled laughter could be heard from beneath Kevin’s foot. Before committing the most heinous act, Kevin glanced over at Jeanette. Here eyes were planted on Nicolas, and she didn’t even notice that Kevin was trying to get her attention.

With that, Kevin took a deep breath, braced his foot…and pushed Nicolas off of the pier and into the water. Fragments of the splash dripped onto Kevin’s face, and he gently wiped them way. Thinking nothing of the act that he just committed.

Nicolas went under, his arms occasionally flailing to the surface trying to grab onto something that would bring him out of the water. Jeanette jumped up from he seat, but her legs were caught in her lounge chair. She nearly fell into the wooden pier. Her arms reaching for her son who was struggling in the water. She took off her shoes, sunglasses, and hat and prepared to dive into the water. Kevin’s hand reached for her elbow, and his form grip stopped her from diving off the edge.

“Don’t.” Kevin’s stern eyes met Jeanette’s this time. Her mouth hung upon in disbelief. She was frozen and unable to move. The single word that came from Kevin’s lips seemed to have shot right through her heart, and took away her mobile ability. “He needs to learn.”

“What are you talking about?” All of the senses seemed to jump into Jeanette’s body at the same time, and she began to struggle from Kevin’s grip. “Let me go!” With every movement, Kevin’s grasp got stronger. He wasn’t going to let her go. “Help! Someone help my baby!”

“What good is that going to do?” Kevin looked down at Nicolas’ struggling body bobbing up and down from the water. “We bought this place so we could have complete solitude from the outside world. Remember?”

“He can’t swim!”

“He’ll learn!” Kevin’s scream shocked Jeanette. “Think about it, Jeanette. We were so happy at one point.”

Jeanette froze once again. “What?”

“Before Nicolas was born. You and I would make love every night. I loved being with you. I loved you so much. But…. When he came here… you loved him.”

“Kevin, that isn’t true.”

“You loved him more than me!” Kevin pulled her towards him. “If he’s gone we can be the way we were.” Kevin’s arms wrapped around Jeanette’s small body. Nicolas continued to struggle, and Jeanette struggled to be set free.

“Please, let me go!” The terror in Jeanette’s voice convinced Kevin’s arms to let go. She jumped into the water and pulled Nicolas from under. Nicolas’ body flung onto the pier. Kevin stepped back and let Jeanette tend to her little bundle of joy. “Nicolas! Nicolas talk to mommy!” Nicolas’s head turned on the pier and he began to cry. Jeanette’s face quickly jolted to stare at Kevin. “I want a divorce.”

“Well, it was fun while it lasted.” Kevin laughed and turned to walk back to the cottage.

An Affair

So, in the first assignment in Round 1 of the Creative Writing Championships I placed 4th in my group! Hooray. Cheer. Jeer. Whatever. There was still one more assignment for Round 1, and here is my story.

My genre was Drama, the place was an ad agency, and my object was a satellite dish. I'm really happy with this one. Here it is:

An Affair

“Johnny is at soccer, and Jessica has ballet ‘til 9.” I tried to avoid the passing strangers as I walked down 5th Avenue. “The satellite dish is still out, but they said it should be fixed by tonight.” My heels clacked against the pavement, and my abnormally heavy handbag dug into my ribs.

“Good.” John’s voice was cold and unfeeling, just like our marriage. “I have a meeting.” He hung up.

“I love you…” Even if he wasn’t on the other end of the phone, and I knew he wouldn’t have said it back… I still felt the need to say it. A big shot like John Sparse never told his homely wife anything resembling adoration.

No, John Sparse played golf and socialized with his high clientele at Macron and Sparse, the most successful ad agency in New York. Ever since John’s name was plastered next to Max Macron’s he became a different person.

I remembered when John and I were so happy renting a one-room apartment in the Bronx. We shared a single mattress, and held each other to keep warm. We were so in love. He would kiss me and whisper; “One day you’ll be wearing so much fur you’ll be sweating like its the 4th of July in January.”

He was right. I owned the fur, the jewels, the cars, and the cloths. In return, I gave him two beautiful children. Sure, my thighs were like tree trunks, my stomach wasn’t as tight as it used to be, and the wrinkles on my face were there, but I was losing my John.

When the late night meetings started that’s when I suspected everything. He came home at three in the morning. I asked him where he was, and he would tell me it was none of my business. He would coo me with a tennis bracelet or a trip to my favorite spa.

I turned the corner of the New York street, and approached the entrance to his building. The words Macron and Sparce gleamed in the sun; laughing at me. Mocking me for all the money I had, and all the love I had lost. I was going to find out who was ripping my family apart. I was going to choke the life out of the little slut that kept my husband away from his children.

I called Alice, my long time friend and John’s long time secretary. I had paid her $500 to help me, and to keep her mouth shut. I heard her voice on the end of the line, “Hello dear.”

“Alice, I’m here.” I looked around to see if anyone would recognize me. I tried to look poor. People only knew me as the rich wife of John Sparse.

“Linda, are you sure you want to go through with…”

“Yes. Now let me in Alice.” I looked at my watch. It was 7:15, and most of the people that would recognize me were probably gone for the day. I stuck my hand into my purse. My hand gently rested on my .22 magnum. No one would ruin my perfect life. No one.

Alice let me in, and escorted past security to the elevators that lead to the top floor. As I walked through the agency I glanced at the empty desks throughout the building. I wondered which one held the little minx that was fucking my husband into overtime.

I could see her long blonde hair, her skirt reasonably lengthened to show enough leg, and the blouse that barely fit over her perfect breasts. Yes, I’m sure that how she was.

Alice unlocked John’s office, and I walked inside. His new office smelled of oak. Ergonomic chairs surrounded his mahogany desk. In place of a wall was one giant window, showing the beautiful New York skyline. I slowly walked cross the wooden floor. I walked past his cozy couch, his portable golf set, and his personal bathroom.

John loved his new office.

Then, I found my hiding place. A closet across from his desk was the perfect concealment. I opened the sliding doors. “John is in a meeting.” I turned to Alice. The bastard was telling the truth. “I have to go Mrs. Sparse. He’ll wonder why I’m here so late.” She pulled the door towards her, “Good luck…” and closed the door.

I waited forever. I was beginning to lose hope…until he walked through the door. “Sam, you really know how to make me feel young again.” Sam, the whore’s name was Sam. His smile reminded me of the happiness we once had. I hadn’t seen him smile like that in years. John extended his hand into the doorway, “Come here you.” A hand emerged from the doorway, and John pulled it closer.

My heart dropped. All of the air in my lungs evaporated. John embraced his lover, and gave a kiss unlike any I had ever experienced from him. The kiss was filled with love and life. The two enwrapped into each other. I pictured this in my mind, but one important factor occurring in front of me never entered my mind. The kiss was long, soft, and masculine. Sam was not a woman. Sam…was a man.

On his new desk, in his new office, he made love to his new lover. I was paralyzed. I couldn’t move, only watch. Then I realized…my whole life was a lie. My children, my marriage, my love…was a lie. I was a cover, a camouflage for John’s insecurities. Rage boiled up from my stomach. I reached for the gun in my purse, and slid open the closet doors.

“Linda!” John’s face was as much in shock as I was. I held the gun straight towards him. My arm shaking with anger, and tears streaming down my face. This was it. I was here to kill the woman that ruined my life. So, I turned the gun, placed the barrel in my mouth…

And sprayed my brains all over his brand new office.

They Don't Know Any Better

I placed top 25 in the Tweet me a Story contest. (yay) Unfortunately, I didn't win. Lucky for me, I entered the Creative Writing Championships! I had to write a 1,000 word story within the SciFi genre, with a petting zoo, and a fork as an object. Here is my story:

They Don't Know Any Better

I bit into my right index finger. It stung a little, but I was getting used to it. A small trickle of blood began to seep from my hand; I added another line to the wall. “One….two….wow.” I stepped back, and sucked on my finger. Three months. I had been in this place for three months.

Cindy wrapped her arms around my shoulders. Her firm breasts pressed up against my back. She giggled, “Today is going to be so much fun.” She kissed me on the cheek and scampered off. Cindy was old enough to be my daughter, and I don’t know why they would put a 55-year-old overweight ogre with a young 21-year-old sex Goddess. Maybe to show some sort of comparison.

Some days were better than others. Once in awhile I would be in a living room setting watching old reruns of Scrubs. Other days I would be in the shower repeatedly washing myself. A fat ass like me would enjoy the dining exhibit. Force-feeding myself fork after fork of meatloaf until I nearly vomited.

The most annoying part of the entire place was the sound system. Doug Masters of Channel 6 volunteered his broadcasting talents. I’m guessing it was in exchange for his life. The irritating part was their native language dubbed over it. It sounded like a cat being skinned alive while trying to speak Japanese.

“Come see humans in their natural habitat! Watch them eat! Watch them clean!”
“Kazyts ut vonsth! Xszath dur xaar! Xszath dur foazch!”

If you were lucky, you’d be in the fornication exhibit. Unfortunately, today wasn’t my lucky day. Today was probably the most degrading activity. Today…

“Now, look in amazement at the humans without their outer clothing! See them in their true form! Touch them! Feel them!”
“Xuthfg drtznmk qyes xthdf cuf th sf sxqit zassls! Zxay zu nmaz znvipl! Daxmn zu! Vazqt zu!”

The petting zoo.

Cindy was bouncing around. I didn’t know where she got her energy. Part of me wondered if they slipped her something. “I’ve never been in the petting zoo before. Is it fun? Do they touch you? Can you touch back?” She bombarded me with airhead questions. I replied with a “yes” or “no”. I didn’t elaborate. God forbid I had more than a 5-minute conversation with this Pomeranian of a human being.

The alarm sounded. “Shit… Here they come.” A wave of small furry critters hobbled into the exhibit, followed by larger and slower moving masses of ugly flesh. Their cone shaped heads swayed from right to left. Spewing clear fluid from the two holes protruding the top of their skulls. Their eight eyes never blinked in unison. Never. They were covered in hair except for their perfectly coned shaped heads.

They piled up around Cindy. She opened her arms and giggled. “They’re so fuzzy!” She smiled as they fondled her breasts and ass. She just shook her head, “They don’t know any better.”
They started to come to me. I just stood there…naked and fat. I didn’t put my arms out like Cindy. I was miserable. They poked and patted me. A small one crept up right underneath me. His small furry hand reached forward to grab my calf. A series of high-pitched gibberish began to fill my ears, and the little vermin began to foam from the head. Buckets and buckets of foam began to fall from his cone as he bounced around. Cindy laughed, “I think he’s laughing! He thinks you’re funny!”

I think she meant ugly. The little fucker was laughing at me. I gritted my teeth and spread my hands out wide reaching for his cone dome. He let out one final squeak before running off to what I think was his mother; some giant furry excuse of an organism. Reminded me of my ex wife.

Cindy threw me an infuriated look. “Why did you do that? He was cute!” She placed her arms on her hips and wiggled her ass. I shrugged. I was about to tell her to go fuck herself, when a small sensation came from my ass. I looked down to Cindy’s hands, but they were still firmly planted onto her hips.

I spun around, “What the fuck?” and saw one of those things groping my ass. I didn’t push him away. If I pushed him away I didn’t know what they would do. Another little creature reached around and grabbed my balls. “Jesus Christ!” I froze. I was being fondled by fucking E.T., and I couldn’t do a thing about it.

Cindy giggled, “They don’t know any better.”

“The fuck they don’t!” I tried to move away, but their little hands wouldn’t let go.

“Just don’t get a….” Cindy paused and looked at my cock. I liked that reaction from women, but I felt like it wasn’t supposed to happen at that moment.

“A what?” I asked. Then I looked down. All of this sensation must have caused a, well, natural reaction. There it was about to poke the small alien in its 4th eye… my dick.

“That!” Cindy pointed to my junk. She looked around frantically, trying to push away the creatures around her. “Hide it! Think of something else! Barbra Walters! Amy Winehouse! Tori Spelling!”

Then, pain I couldn’t stop streaming through my body. My muscles convulsed and I fell to the floor.

“Rosie O’Donnel! Rachael Dratch!” Cindy’s screamed.

My skin burned, but refused to char off of my body. I lost all bodily functions. My mouth filled with vomit. I pissed myself, and screamed like the animal that I was to these creatures. Blue liquid started to pour form the holes in their heads, and low moaning sounds echoed through the exhibit.

The pain stopped, and I laid there like a fish. My erection was gone, and so was my pride. Cindy ran over to me. She looked over at the creatures and their blue vomit. “I think that means they’re crying.”

Crying….right.

Tweet me a Story Contest: The Finals

So, as you all know...I entered NYC midnight's Tweet me a story contest. They gave me a word, and I had to come up with three short stories. I could not exceed 140 characters. My word was sharp, and I passed the first round. The tweet that they selected was:

"A sharp pain pulsated through my veins. The pain so real. I didn't know what to think...until the worms crawled out of my skin."

After the general public voted on the top 15, my tweet was selected for the finals. (hooray!) Today, I received my final word, tear, and wrote these three tweets:

1) A small, saline fluid began to secret from my lachrymal gland. "A tear." I looked at her. "It's called a tear. You heartless bastard."

2) I began to tear into the fresh corpse's ribcage. Her organs were slipping and popping through my fingers. "I will find my ring, you whore."

3) "Don't tear down my dreams mom!" Billy started up the stairs. "I may not be smart, but I sure ass hell can make a cardigan better than you!"

*Fingers crossed* let's hope one of these is good enough to win me something! Thank you to everyone who voted in the first round. I really needed this to get myself motivated in my writing. This is the start of many awesome things, and I'm really happy that I just made it this far. I don't need to win (but it would be nice) making it to the finals is enough to make me smile.