Brenners (Brenda) over at http://timeandseason.blogspot.com/ hosts a Write It Out Wednesday. Each Wednesday you get a writing start/idea and then you have a week to work on it. The next Wed. you post your writing on your blog. I think this is a great idea.
I didn't have time to come up with something original this week. I was busy completing a personal essay for a writing scholarship to a writer's conference. Boy was that nerve wracking. I understand that writing is an industry that one needs tough skin for... to handle the rejections, but it is harder to have tough skin when you are writing about yourself.
If I had had time to do Brenda's writing exercise, I would have had to do "D"... spy, modern day, Paris. So I'm going to post something I wrote a while ago. It's spy, future day, Pacific North West.
Arriana watched the torrents of water rage the rapids at her feet and then plunge, freefalling, into a mass of white foam a hundred feet below. Fear of death coursed through her veins, though she took care to show no outward display of emotion. The crowds would feed on it. They would love it. The morbidity of watching a body flap, without control, over the drop and then be crushed under the water's weight wasn't enough. There must be fear, shame and drama. Even now the crowd jeered and taunted. But Arriana would give them no more satifaction then her death.
"What Arianna? No tears, no begging? Don't I even get an apology." Theodore whispered in her ear and tightened the ropes that bound her wrists.
He was a short, fat little man with dark hair that fell in clumps around his thick face. His eyes were squinted into tiny black beads. His plump lips sneered with victory.
"I can't believe I married you and your moralistic ideals. You never fooled me. I always suspected you to be a traitor and a spy. But I never thought, even for a moment, that you were Christian. You know we'll flush our the rest of your network. There will come a time when your kind are extinct. The Great One will use genocide once more, if need be."
Arriana ignored her husband, the Governor of the Western North Americas. Her mind was full of things she could say but she pursed her lips and remained silent waiting for the throes of death.
I didn't have time to come up with something original this week. I was busy completing a personal essay for a writing scholarship to a writer's conference. Boy was that nerve wracking. I understand that writing is an industry that one needs tough skin for... to handle the rejections, but it is harder to have tough skin when you are writing about yourself.
If I had had time to do Brenda's writing exercise, I would have had to do "D"... spy, modern day, Paris. So I'm going to post something I wrote a while ago. It's spy, future day, Pacific North West.
Arriana watched the torrents of water rage the rapids at her feet and then plunge, freefalling, into a mass of white foam a hundred feet below. Fear of death coursed through her veins, though she took care to show no outward display of emotion. The crowds would feed on it. They would love it. The morbidity of watching a body flap, without control, over the drop and then be crushed under the water's weight wasn't enough. There must be fear, shame and drama. Even now the crowd jeered and taunted. But Arriana would give them no more satifaction then her death.
"What Arianna? No tears, no begging? Don't I even get an apology." Theodore whispered in her ear and tightened the ropes that bound her wrists.
He was a short, fat little man with dark hair that fell in clumps around his thick face. His eyes were squinted into tiny black beads. His plump lips sneered with victory.
"I can't believe I married you and your moralistic ideals. You never fooled me. I always suspected you to be a traitor and a spy. But I never thought, even for a moment, that you were Christian. You know we'll flush our the rest of your network. There will come a time when your kind are extinct. The Great One will use genocide once more, if need be."
Arriana ignored her husband, the Governor of the Western North Americas. Her mind was full of things she could say but she pursed her lips and remained silent waiting for the throes of death.
4 comments:
WHAT??? That's all?????
What's the rest of the story??????
Dana
Sorry Dana,
I've never written a short story. All my stories are novel length and I have snippets of my ideas written out here and there. This is a just a blurb. I imagine it to come near the beginning of the story. Sorry. It's good that you want more right?
I really like it. I love how you focused on just one detail of a story rather than trying to bring in a intro and ending. It enabled you to put a lot of detail into it. I look forward to reading more or your writings. :~)
You really should write the rest. ;~)
When your book is published I want to purchase an autographed first edition. Put my name down now!
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