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Post by Battlechantress on Sept 20, 2011 16:57:54 GMT 1
I had a brain cramp when I tried going back to the fiction idea today. Maybe I can figure it out tomorrow.
20 September 2011
"We going for a run yet?"
"'We?' You seem to think that the leash is a chew toy and squirrels are cause for 100 yard dashes."
"But they *are*! Besides, you're slow."
"I run ultras."
"'Cause you're slow."
Pause.
"If I take you along, you aren't allowed to run onto the neighbors' yards. Even if there are squirrels taunting us with their spastic tails."
"You're never any fun."
"Yeah, I've heard that before."
"Slow *and* boring. I wonder why I put up with you."
"Because I feed you."
"I can feed myself!"
"Dead skunks don't count."
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Post by MarianneClaus on Sept 21, 2011 4:15:04 GMT 1
Something I wrote for a play I'm working on. I was really pleased with this snippet and it turned out to be exactly 100 words.
15
EDWARD: It was God’s provision that I was born first. You should know better than to contest divine will.
THOMAS: Then why is it that God then gave me the looks, the charm, the easy way with women, the ambition –well, ambition we both possess in equal measure; I’ll grant you that at least. Why did he give me all of that and none of it to his chosen first son?
EDWARD: God must not like you very much, Tom, to give you so many blessings and nowhere to go.
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Post by Cali on Sept 21, 2011 5:25:15 GMT 1
Damn. Really behind and it's pretty late over here. Jotted down the first thing on my mind just to get ahead.
14 "Welcome to St. Goettel We've got chocolate Come and wear your clothes all light It's 70 Fahrenheit
"You know this may be Germany Hence no la fartirnite' Better used to that big ol' frown Cause we're just another bumpkin town
"(Up in Deutchland!) Welcome to St. Goettels Give yourself a little room for your Ja-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta ellbogen ellbogen Machen Sie sich selbst zu Hause Frauline!"
"Once you've tried your first Warsteiner You will never go back Go back Go back Goooo baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaack!"
"JAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA JA JA JA JA JA JA JA!"
*Insert passionate accordion solo*
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Post by Mister Buch on Sept 22, 2011 2:18:38 GMT 1
This is getting hard. I ran out of ideas about a month ago. I'm now at the stage where I'm just looking around the room and at random wikipedia pages until something seems like I could write about it.
20.
-Let's av no more o' this, lad. Come on, get to work. We're over't top within the ower.
-I'm sorry, sir, it's just...
-Out wi' it.
-Absol... terrified, sir. I'm... I'm fucking terrified. Sir.
-Yeh.
-Sir?
-I know. So am I. So's everyone 'ere, and all the jerries oo'l be carvin' us up out therr. 'Cept the ones on the machine guns, I reckon, and them's firin' whizz-bangs. You ever fired a whizz-bang, praavit?
-Oh, yes.
-Ow'd it feel?
-Exhilarating.
-Raht. I just 'ope that I get killed face-to-face, so I know he's scerred too.
-Sir.
21.
Josephine leaned over and gave Eli a gulping grin, her lips cracking the dirt on her cheeks a little.
"Tell you somethin' 'bout bein' hanged," she breathed. She still smelled like perfume and for a moment Eli remembered this was a young lady right up against his mouth. "Makes you prisoner here forever.
"Folks what get hanged is folks with unfinished bizniss, right?" She recieved no answer but nodded impatiently anyhow. "And ghosts wear what they died in. You and I wear nooses 'round our necks tonight. Shackles on our hands.
"Get used to me, sugah. I'll wear a smile."
22.
I must say, I loved that film, 'Music and Lyrics'. Well... not exactly 'must'... not at all, actually.
I must say 'Sorry!' and 'Sorry?' and 'Sorry, I'm married.' I must say 'I love you', 'I promise' and 'About half-past' and 'Tea's ready!' and 'If you need someone to talk to...' and 'Yes, fine!' and 'You'll be fine.' That's what I must say.
I must laugh when people I've never met make a joke and I must nod if they seem to be making a point but I can't hear them. I must make certain noises in bed. Mustn't grumble.
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Post by Battlechantress on Sept 22, 2011 4:35:02 GMT 1
This question really was asked on a Brittany rescue site. The rescue had a more diplomatic answer than the one I came up with. 21 September 2011 "Does my Brittany have an 'off' button?" Dear Querant: I do not know the circumstances in which you have found your Brittany, but in all likelihood your dog does not have one. This means that you, too, will get to experience many more months (if not years) of your damn- I mean precious angel- counter surfing for pizza, landscaping your entire neighborhood, chewing holes in literally anything (s)he can get his/her jaws around, inspecting contents of the garbage, and bringing out your undergarments for your guests' amusement. That said, if you find said button, PLEASE let us know! Edit: Just realized that I overused "said" at the end. Grr. Oh well.
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Post by MarianneClaus on Sept 22, 2011 21:24:25 GMT 1
16
He's looking at me over the top of the divider and I don't know what to do. He has amazing blue eyes They're framed by glasses but in more of a... painting effect than a nerdy thing.
He's looking at me and then his eyes dart back to his screen and then he looks again. I can't do anything. I wait a while to see if he'll do something else but no. I turn off the monitor, gather my things, and leave. Passivity is a bitch.
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Post by Battlechantress on Sept 23, 2011 3:29:49 GMT 1
I wrote an ode to my insomnia for today's entry. Two nights on four hours of sleep... awesome! (Not really.)
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Post by Battlechantress on Sept 24, 2011 4:50:20 GMT 1
Caustic Agent is a roller derby name; it was either that or Wreck-O-Matic for some of my faceplants.
23 September 2011
New girl. New venue. New city. The introductions make me feel like we're back in the locker room in high school. "Up next is the new girl, Caustic Agent." What isn't said is what I can almost hear anyway. "She doesn't look like much." "I doubt she's fast." "Bet she's already had her nose broken before." I'm sure at least some of it's true, but my ability to take a pounding and give a few right back can't be measured in here. And yet that's all we do, we make assessments on strangers and wonder why we stand at impasse.
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Post by Mister Buch on Sept 26, 2011 2:33:27 GMT 1
23.
Michelle stands in the sports hall, pulling her blazer tighter and looking over the boys who are left. Obviously Vince and Ash were picked by their respective girlfriends: no-one else would dare. Then their best friends picked, and then Michelle hesitated too long. Now this.
First semester dance class. So much hinges on this moment.
Andrew is fat and cries a lot for obvious reasons. Nial is creepy and has asked Michelle out three times. Peter is wierd, in that nobody knows anything about him.
Fat, creepy or wierd. 'This is just what girls have to do,' she wonders.
24.
Lowenstein had run out of patience with the fat, spiky-painful swelling on her nose. Finally she found a brooch pin in her pack and gently pricked the red, stretched-out skin. The lump squirted a hyperdermic runoff of stickyish water, then lolloped blood like fondue chocolate across her lips and down her chin and neck.
As she stood shivering, her face seemed to sink and clinch at her muscle and bones. Her jaw ached with the pain of her teeth clamping together, her canine points chipping and rattling in her narrow throat.
And she never cheated Headhunter Charley again.
25.
Natalie kissed James on the cheek after P.E. James didn't know what to do at the time, except become very aware of his tongue and the cold, rusty taste of his own spit.
Now James feels an insatiable sense of expectation. Natalie is beautiful now, and like a woman, and his saviour. And he kind of wants to give her something, but everything he owns is now a bit shit and immature and unsuitable and shameful.
For fifteen minutes he squirms between terror and pride, then he makes himself choose. He kisses her strangely-pointy, perfect lips. She screams.
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Post by Battlechantress on Sept 28, 2011 3:43:00 GMT 1
I'm dealing with a lupus flare so bad that I want to crawl out of my skin. My meds have been changed and it doesn't keep me lucid, or upright. I literally fell over on the floor by the TV last night and began thrashing uncontrollably, so I know this can't keep going. I see the doc tomorrow because I almost started screaming today from the pain on the phone. My supervisor is trying to be understanding but I think sometimes I just end up talking to myself because nobody really gets it when the flares hit full force. Sorry for the rambling, I should just post the damn entries and get caught up already.
24 September
I'm trying to hold it together. I know I shouldn't be swerving while I am driving. So. Damn. Tired. I can do this. I can drive while I am awake. I can get to work alive. Fuck it. I want to sleep by the side of the road. Eyes close, open again and the trucks in front of me blur in small squares of red as dawn grows around me. I wish I could levitate, become transparent. Then I could slide through the ether and not be confined to a little green metal box. I could leave the shell behind.
25 September 2011
The lesions sometimes rupture and burst, causing light yellow pus to form in rivulets which run down my legs. I try to clean it up with paper towels, which only stings more. I can't escape this. I think back to the myriad drugs that the specialist wanted me to go on and know none of them would make me feel better. Hell, I'd probably feel worse and I am barely functioning right now. Two cold showers a day, just so the needles of water can splash the skin and bring both relief and yet more pain, numbing pain, briefest relief.
26 September 2011
The puppy comes to me for comfort and reassurance, even pressing her weight against my shins. I keep telling her that she's too close, I can't handle the pressure, and I feel like an asshole for doing it too. How could she understand what this illness is doing to my body? She likely only smells the swollen, angry flesh on my limbs and that it as put me in a hell of a mood. Still, in her calmer moments, stroking her forehead and rubbing her belly calms me, it lets me forget about the war being raged beneath my skin.
27 September 2011
I see silver wheels spinning in my head, bits of cogs attached to brass that spin. Walls behind them spin slowly toward another, then collide, and the ghosts of exes walk between then, glaring at me and my obvious faults. A wall grinds slowly towards the right, and reveals a winter scene I wish I could join, though I expect I would know the ghost standing there, waiting in the shadow of a swiftly-moving wheel. I try to turn my head to the left, and see large eyes of owls turn on me in scorn. I yearn for sleep.
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Post by Mister Buch on Sept 28, 2011 23:08:07 GMT 1
Just wanted to say the Thomas and Edward bit was cool, Chantress' entries this month have been very well-written, and Cali your debut for this has been incredible.
More excitement from me coming later.
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Post by Mister Buch on Sept 29, 2011 0:56:00 GMT 1
26.
You just watched Father Cooper drag a steel dagger's edge into the leg of a werewolf (and it is, quite clearly, a werewolf) only for the flesh to heal behind it. The priest loses the momentum of his cut, as if trying to kick through quicksand, and he just leaves the blade stuck securely in. The hair is disturbed and a little blood-wet, but otherwise the animal looks fine.
"You need silver, y'see," he says happily. "You look shocked?"
You are, yes.
"Better adjust to this one quickly, my mate. Sun's coming up. Get ready to watch him change."
27.
When the Professors' airship finally left the air and reached the sky, they found themselves speechless.
From so high up, the world looked like a flat wash of green paint, with hazy splodges of grey for countries. Above them rested a world which they had seen every day but never known.
Blue leaves. Rich, thick blue leaves hanging from indigo oak branches, swaying in an incredible wind but swaying so very slowly. A small white-blossomed snow tree plodded towards them, shedding slightly when the other foliage disturbed it.
The massive knotted trunks, reaching even higher, looked black from here.
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Post by Battlechantress on Sept 29, 2011 6:10:56 GMT 1
28 September 2011
The screaming that began as a dull red roar in the cracks and valleys in my skin shifted and grew louder, causing pathways along each nerve pathway to become hot and burn intensely. One might call it dignity, others pride, that I try to conceal the outcome of this war by the use of strategically placed clothes. I briefly considered putting bandages over them, but I did not want to draw still more attention to my enemies, my unwanted guests. For one who thought nothing of being seen with green hair, I find it strange that I hide my skin.
29 September 2011
It's been a calmer day. Somewhat. I want to run, to take my mind off of the body, but some of the lesions on my legs have become large, black and purple. Since I appear to be dealing with a hostile company of flesh-eating bacteria to passing strangers, it's better to be shut in. At least until it comes time to get the puppy, who is determined to stalk the resident coyote. I keep telling her that this is a bad idea, so I had to stumble in the wet grass barefoot after her, seeing two Annies the whole way.
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Post by Mister Buch on Sept 30, 2011 0:18:52 GMT 1
28.
Sunnee knows there's nothing to be scared about. She knows exactly how this will go. Kelly will wave and make a place for her in line, then they'll all file in silently and sit down.
And she'll get the shakes and panic and WILL NOT CRY and then the exam will begin and she'll look at the questions and relax and get, say, 57%. And mum will be disappointed but that's fine because dad secretly doesn't think nice Indian girls should be clever.
But none of this helps. She hates this.
Let it get cancelled or something. A fire.
Please.
29.
You know the sort of feeling like the end of the movie when it all comes together and it ends like it should and you stroll out together and you smile 'til the bathroom, or the car park if you're lucky, but it never goes so good?
Like you've sorted out your problems 'fore the next ones start.
When you've earned sitting back, just like your man from the movie, when blonde hair spins gold and your scars become tattoos, when couples of people act like Romeo and Juliet? That's the kind of feeling I get from sitting down with you.
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Post by Mister Buch on Oct 1, 2011 1:20:49 GMT 1
And my September 100 words ends with me, tired and slightly drunk, desperately trying to tie themes together at the last minute. 30.I remember our parents and teachers used to say, 'Your school days are the best days of your life!' and I remember thinking it was rubbish and kind of frightening, like everything else adults said to me. I still do. I had a few days at school which justified a hundred words. But good stories, good characters don't start off with the writers' best stuff and just go downhill from there. Start strong, but don't overdo it! Let the character develop, and then she'll write those best days for herself. You enjoy them. You watch her build up to something. --- So who will be doing the next month? I won't be, partly because of other writing / study and partly because I've now realised that I've done six seperate months... so if I come back to this it will be to do all twelve. I think that would be pretty neat, but it means me returning to this in either January or April. So how did you people enjoy this month, and will you do more?
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