Cyanide's 109 word story contest is drawing to a close if any of you write. Last day is Dec. 31. The site is looking into some expansion programs with MacAdam/Cage and Radiant Press and another publisher who's name escapes me now. Crap I feel bad about that. So things are looking up and I think at some point in the near future we'll be able to offer a printed version.
Today's story is an example of me losing sight of the ending. I'm definitely an outline person, so I probably should get into the habit of it. Feedback is appreciated as usual. Thanks.
hold up
The dirt curls in the distance behind a series of giant stampeding rhinos with red and blue crowns swirling on their horns. The sun looms high and crawls under the skin, turning it brown and cracking it like a skinned calf's drying muscles. No shadows fall on the ground, even from the dilapidated church. He holds her hand for three more seconds, squeezing it twice, before he whispers to her.
Every night I dream of making love to you on screen, but I wake up to the sun perched atop the church bell and wonder when it's going to crush us, because I would be happy with you at that moment.
Her cheeks flush and she lowers her head to the ground like the guilty on death row walking their final stretch before an underpaid redneck gets to the part of his job where he climaxes. The vultures in the sky circle.
I would be happiest at that moment if you kissed me.
He looks at her and lifts her chin with the hand holding the nine millimeter and bites her upper lip. She presses herself against him trying to lick his chin as he bites.
Let's go. This is not our time.
She backs off slightly, but never leaves his touch, looking around the barren waste of life surrounding them. Time whistles through the air with glee knowing that the Fates will be pleased tonight. A lost coyote drags his ass across the brittle dirt as chucks get caught in his bleeding hole and wedged between his visible rib bones.
Where are we going to go?
He looks at the gathering threat over the horizon. A dozen or so cars bulldozing the plateau desert over to create the next graveyard for serial killers to stalk and teenagers to mourn their friends with nothing better to do than drag a steel razor up their arms from their palms so they can see butterfly lights and kiss the angel at the end of the tunnel. They never come back and their friends have to live with that.
He grabs her hand at the wrist and pulls her behind the church to where they landed their plane for the meet-up. An appointment that had been sold to a few police men in exchange for immunity and they have to improvise their plans or end up dead. Like he said, it's not their time.
le fin - due to brain falling out.
Today's story is an example of me losing sight of the ending. I'm definitely an outline person, so I probably should get into the habit of it. Feedback is appreciated as usual. Thanks.
hold up
The dirt curls in the distance behind a series of giant stampeding rhinos with red and blue crowns swirling on their horns. The sun looms high and crawls under the skin, turning it brown and cracking it like a skinned calf's drying muscles. No shadows fall on the ground, even from the dilapidated church. He holds her hand for three more seconds, squeezing it twice, before he whispers to her.
Every night I dream of making love to you on screen, but I wake up to the sun perched atop the church bell and wonder when it's going to crush us, because I would be happy with you at that moment.
Her cheeks flush and she lowers her head to the ground like the guilty on death row walking their final stretch before an underpaid redneck gets to the part of his job where he climaxes. The vultures in the sky circle.
I would be happiest at that moment if you kissed me.
He looks at her and lifts her chin with the hand holding the nine millimeter and bites her upper lip. She presses herself against him trying to lick his chin as he bites.
Let's go. This is not our time.
She backs off slightly, but never leaves his touch, looking around the barren waste of life surrounding them. Time whistles through the air with glee knowing that the Fates will be pleased tonight. A lost coyote drags his ass across the brittle dirt as chucks get caught in his bleeding hole and wedged between his visible rib bones.
Where are we going to go?
He looks at the gathering threat over the horizon. A dozen or so cars bulldozing the plateau desert over to create the next graveyard for serial killers to stalk and teenagers to mourn their friends with nothing better to do than drag a steel razor up their arms from their palms so they can see butterfly lights and kiss the angel at the end of the tunnel. They never come back and their friends have to live with that.
He grabs her hand at the wrist and pulls her behind the church to where they landed their plane for the meet-up. An appointment that had been sold to a few police men in exchange for immunity and they have to improvise their plans or end up dead. Like he said, it's not their time.
le fin - due to brain falling out.
Memoirs of A Geisha
She Comes Undone
Marvin K Mooney
Super Fudge
Websters Unabridged Dictionary
Go Dog Go
The Lovely Bones
Summer Sisters
A fine balance
The Telephone Book