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Post by Mister Buch on Feb 1, 2011 11:45:54 GMT 1
Anyone who's participating in the writing challenge this month at 100words.com - here's the place to post your entries.
To start thing off, here's me trying to gain inspiration from a dream I just had. In it, I was a high elf from Elder Srolls. I changed that for the story. ;D
February 1st, 2011
I watched the bullet's progress with something like curiosity: she actually began to fall before it hit her. I wobbled, bared my teeth, and I suddenly understood why people in my situation shout 'no!' in the movies. I wanted to protest.
She was my wife and she had barely had a chance to be that. Four years? It wasn't enough. All the injustices we had suffered, both of us, seemed like nothing now.
I wasn't suicidal, so I ate when I needed to until time and single thoughts became clear again. I thought, 'We loved each other. We had plans.'
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Post by lieden on Feb 1, 2011 13:42:31 GMT 1
I've returned! Hopefully I'll be able to complete the February batch.
No continuity this time, though.
01/02/2011
I found myself standing in an old alley. My attention wavered, stuck to a peeling poster on a wall, but not its writing. I took a turn, to find that the alley led to a bridge. Two figures passed me hurriedly, the one in an elaborate coat, the other in a long dress sweeping the cobblestones. They turned to look at me with their masks' hollow eyes; the inky water under the bridge swallowed their reflections. Is this Venice? I wondered. But it could not be; Venice had sunk, centuries ago, truly Serenissima in the deep quiet of the Adriatic.
---
Buch, that was rough. Very moving.
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Post by Battlechantress on Feb 1, 2011 13:50:21 GMT 1
I will try to do this month's batch. My DSL is barely hanging on (it's been out twice so far today). I'm just gonna post nonfic for now.
1 February 2011
I woke up at 4 a.m. again, thanks to a certain puppy. She is seeing her first blizzard, and all 9 pounds of her is completely unimpressed. The snow is already as high as she is tall, so trying to tell her to "go do business" is a laughable prospect at best. She just sat on the back porch whimpering for a few minutes before she decided that, come hell or high water, she was coming in through a doggy door that I didn't think she was yet tall enough to get through. I was wrong. She is determined.
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Post by Mister Buch on Feb 1, 2011 16:26:05 GMT 1
Good to have you back in this, Lieden. Thanks for the compliment, and yours was very well-written. Poetic.
And Chantress, yours looks good too. Fiction or no, that's a good moment well-recorded.
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Post by Battlechantress on Feb 1, 2011 20:23:54 GMT 1
I was fully expecting to lose power and kick up the generator this morning, so I didn't get to comment on the other entries. My apologies. They look great, guys.
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Post by Mr. Glow on Feb 1, 2011 23:34:46 GMT 1
I forgot it's still technically Winter. Over here we got past our 'Worst Winter since records began' moaning a few weeks ago and seem to be gearing up for Spring, thank The Maker.
February 1st, 2011
28/11/1564, London
Walter is away today. Assassin business. I only know he headed south.
In place of my usual teacher, I spar, using a dull blade with William, one of the men who helped my father.
The Scotsman is much stronger than Walter, and clearly a better swordsman than me. I'm hardpressed fend his blade off.
I parry him, thrusting my arm out. With more agility than I'd credit a man of his size with, he grabs my wrist, sweeps my feet out from under me and takes my sword from my very hand even as I fall.
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Post by Mister Buch on Feb 2, 2011 5:07:27 GMT 1
2nd February 2011
Here at Cadbury we care deeply (now) about Fairtrade or whatever you're supposed to call it these days. Ever since Eddie Izzard, I think it was him, appeared on that show for Sport Relief or something and met those black children with the buzzcuts, we have done our utmost to make sure we're not the ones who are starving them. It might have been about wells. We care about Ghana, yeah? That's why this is written in a big cocoa bean-shape. Ghana. This job used to be much easier. Look at the purple! Luxurious! Mmmmm. TICK. Suitable for vegetarians.
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Post by lieden on Feb 2, 2011 9:22:24 GMT 1
2 February 2011The dog sat near Hadrian's street, at a green spot where a tiny bit of Iridanos river flows uncemented. It was black, with mismatched eyes: one human, one wolf. Its human eye spoke to me. I was taken aback. 'Why are you like this?' I asked. 'We're all like this. Wolves, clinging to humans. Adjusting, forgetting. Got some grub?' The wolf eye looked at me coldly. It howled in the dusk, and others answered and gathered; many wolf eyes, yellow like the night lights of Athens. I left quickly; too many dogs together get cocky and full of strange ideas. --- I think this batch is getting more and more weird for me. This is probably a homage to the great Athens dogs. They're quite unique in that, while strays, the city takes good care of them without shoving them away in shelters or euthanising them (although people are encouraged to adopt them). Nearly all of them are vaccinated and well-fed. (Some are TOO well fed. ). They've got attitude, too.
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Post by Battlechantress on Feb 2, 2011 14:09:00 GMT 1
Our state's treatment of strays in general leaves a lot to be desired (Annie could be Exhibit A).
2 February 2011
The puppy doesn't seem to mind the snow as much today. Yesterday, she hid under the car while I shoveled. I had been trying to convince her that yes, she could in fact pee on the snow and not the carpet. It took a while before she was convinced. Then she saw the older dog bound through the snow drifts and thought that might be fun to try. And try she did, though she didn't get far before she turned back for more level ground. Today's lesson seems to involve Do Not Chew On Guitar Straps and Effects Pedals (Please).
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Post by Mister Buch on Feb 2, 2011 17:47:12 GMT 1
Tomorrow's entry in advance. It's very sweary. Rated M for Manchester.
February 3rd 2011
Ma poems fuckin gay lad, yeah? You know what a fuckin mean? Is this the fucking gayest shit yov fucking ever seen? Donno why you're lookina me, may, like tha, yo fokkin twat. Tell me if there's a problem, yeah, and we'll fuckin' talk bout that when you fuckin ready. Something wrong wi me use of slang? Or my vocabulary? 'See evolution o language, pal. Am sorry if it's very rude or politically incofuckinrect to swear for laughs and rhyme in piece o' shit phonetic made-up shit but last time a checked it wasn't fuckin 'gay'. Not this one anyway. My gay ones are angrier.
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Post by lieden on Feb 2, 2011 20:38:37 GMT 1
Buch, can we have a recited version of that? ;D
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Post by Mr. Glow on Feb 2, 2011 20:59:41 GMT 1
That was absolute class Buch. I have a confession to make. I'm doing a second batch on the side this month. I'll link if I manage to finish it.
February 2nd, 2011
Matthew looks up from the translation he's working on.
"That may have been a little excessive, Will." He says. As I scramble to my feet, I'm inclined to agree with him.
"Just preparing her for a real fight, lad." William says, brushing his dark hair from his face. "the Templars don't wrap us in silk sheets out there. You would know that, if you'd ever taken up arms for the order!"
"What I'm doing is important too, you know!"
"Books won't save you from blades or bullets, Matthew. Even fancy English translations." William says, returning a sword to my hand.
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Post by Mister Buch on Feb 2, 2011 21:07:29 GMT 1
Buch, can we have a recited version of that? ;D Depends! Because the dialect is incomprehensible? Or because of the cussing? ;D Either way, no. I'm a bad actor, and far too English to say that stuff out loud! Glow - cheers!
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Post by lieden on Feb 2, 2011 21:43:20 GMT 1
far too English to say that stuff out loud! Okay. Might try again after Friday evening (and half a dozen pints maybe)
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Post by lieden on Feb 3, 2011 8:27:27 GMT 1
3rd February 2011
The air felt hot and acrid. He took off his headscarf and wrapped it round his face. People around him were shouting, he could see that from their open mouths, but he couldn't hear. A blast had gone off some feet away from him and left his ears ringing. Then the ringing subsided and all sound with it as well. Normally he'd be frightened (I have gone deaf!) but there was no room for fear – or pain – any more. He could die any moment, and he would just one number. But on this day, every number counted, every death mattered.
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