Wednesday, September 2, 2015

September 2


21 comments:

  1. Unbelievable--she locked the door on me again. How can I better my mind-body connection if I can’t even get into the yoga studio? Oh, wait. What’s on the post-it… “Door to remain closed until 5 minutes before class.” Glancing around, I’m surprised to notice people quietly doing their own thing: Tina sits cross-legged, eyes closed, meditating; Nick balances on one foot, grabbing the other behind him to stretch his quad; Jane does some sort of breathwork through one nostril, closing off the other with her pinky; some nameless, familiar faces whisper in conversations. I might as well check FaceBook.

    “You may enter now,” Marilyn said, inviting her students into the studio with a flick of her hand.

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    1. I like the way this is starting. We have setting and conflict right from the start. The only thing I'd cut is the "Oh, wait. What's on the post-it..." It breaks the tone a little bit. I'd change it to, "On a post-it on the door, she's written,"

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    2. Thanks for the feedback. You zeroed in on the spot where I was having trouble.

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  2. The air reeked of wet dog. I had smelled it before, but never near this strong. It certainly beat the smell of poop and BO on the human beach, but it still wasn’t what I had expected. Several of my dog owner friends had said that the beach smells like salt, and maybe it did once you got past the wet dog smell. I fumbled through my slouchy, but as luck would have it I hadn’t packed my perfume today. Just great. I inhaled, quickly and held my breath as I stumbled across the border marked with ropes. I passed several signs that said “Please keep our beach clean” with doggy bags hanging underneath. As if the worst thing in the world was having dog poop all over the beach. Okay, I had to admit, dog poop was pretty gross, but it wasn’t the worst thing that could happen at the beach. Everyday for the past week I had come to the human beach trying to get a tan the old fashioned way. Seems pretty easy with the large amount of sand to sit on, right? Wrong! Getting a tan on the beach is totally the stupidest idea ever because one of two things happened—either stupid kids would try to bury me or bros with biceps as big as my slouchy would stop by my towel and try to sweet talk me. I exhaled as I found a spot up closer to the rocks. No one had staked their claim to that area, so I laid my towel out and took a seat. I opened my slouchy and grabbed the sunscreen. I squirted a huge pile on my hand. If it was all going to go on my body, why be conservative?

    As I rubbed the sunscreen into my arms, I counted the dogs along the shore. There were about six or seven. The shoreline was decorated with several cheap Walmart beach chairs with various sunhats poised on the people’s heads. It was clearly old people hour right now. As I finished rubbing the sunscreen on my legs, I silently cheered. Old people hour meant no bros. No bros meant I could actually get a tan undisturbed. What could possibly go wrong?

    A tennis ball landed right near my towel, squirting sand all over my newly lotioned legs. Within seconds a big brown dog with pointy ears ran up and added another layer of sand. Dammit. Stupid dog.

    “Sorry,” a shaky voice called from the shore. It continued, “Don’t mind him, he won’t bite.”

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    1. THat's great. I like the shaky voice guy. I think I might keep all of this but move him up a bit to enhance the tension that you've already established well.

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    2. Thanks. I'm a little confused when you reference POV character. I wrote this opening scene originally in 3rd person closed, but the narrator seemed a little too strong. Does it matter?

      Obviously for this one, first person seems to work better...but I wasn't sure if we were allowed to do 3rd person if it felt more comfortable.. :)

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    3. Absolutely you can do a 3rd person, but if it's 3rd limited you'll have a single POV character all the way through. If it's omniscient, you'll have a shifting POV character of course.

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  3. Victor adjusted his belt with a deep nervous breath. He looked around the crowded train station, his eyes taking in everyone in snippets, just enough to judge if they were a threat or not. It was calming taking in that information and assessing it.

    Among all the bustle of people a teen girl leaned against a pillar. She fiddled with something in her hand that caught the light enough that Victor thought it might be a knife. His attention was now focused almost entirely on the girl, only glancing around to make sure there wasn’t someone else with her.

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    1. That is fantastic! Those are great stakes to start with!!

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  4. My human, Jake, bombed me out of bed at 4am this morning. Before I had time to wake up, get a drink, or even pee, I was in the harness, and we were out the door. I have to admit, the smells in the air are much fresher in the morning, and usually the squirrels are more active. But, Jake doesn't let me chase them unless we are at home. Sometimes, I Don't think he trusts me.

    We crossed the street at the light, and headed towards the irritation canal. We stepped onto the service road that runs along the waterway. I put my nose to the ground, searching for the calling cards of my friends. I found nothing, except yesterday's pee. It was way too early. Then a strange scent grabbed me. Not on the ground, this one was on the air. I had smelled it before, it was a human smell. The smell of sickness. But, something new had been added. There was also a stench of death. I looked ahead, and saw a human man approaching. He was staggering, and dragging his feet. The smell was coming from him.

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    1. That's cool. I love the perspective there!

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  5. September 2 Story prompt

    Robert walked onto the pier. He could see her near the end of the pier. The outline of her body a shadow. He slipped the hoodie over his head and pushed his hands in the pocket. Stopping midway Robert looked out over the waves flashing white on the black sea.
    Robert screwed up his courage and walked up to her.
    “Kathy,” He said, lowering his head.
    Kathy turned and slapped him, knocking the hoodie off his head.
    Robert turned his head, then back to Kathy.
    “You could have talked, you could have called.” Kathy said
    “And what good would it have done? Nothing would have changed.” Robert said.
    “And given me the chance to say no,” Kathy said “or yes.”
    “And would it?” Robert asked.
    “You know there was no choice,” Kathy said, leaning against the rail. “but you took the coward.”
    “It’s better this way. No ties between us.” He said
    “Nothing?” She said, looking to the end of the pier.
    “You know I care, but when will I get another chance? I would regret it the rest of my life.” he touched her shoulder.
    Kathy turned, grabbed his face in her hands, pulled him to her, kissed him - long.
    Catching his breath Robert pulled away, then turned and walked off the pier.
    Kathy watched ham as he walked away, rubbing the small bump of her belly.

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    1. Good opening man. I love the basic problem!

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  6. “Grandpa, you’re going the wrong way!” Jacob insisted, for about the fifth time. “The entrance is back that way. Over by the rides.”
    Curtis glanced at his grandson, sitting beside him in the passenger seat, and once again reassured him, “Don’t worry. Grandpa knows where he’s going. I’ve been coming here for a long, long time.”
    “But the gate’s over there. See the big Ferris wheel?”
    “That’s the Yellow Gate. We’re going in the Blue Gate. It’s a lot better. We won’t have to wait in a long line, and we won’t have to spend fifteen minutes walking through the Fun Zone to get to the good stuff.”
    “But Grandpa, the Fun Zone is the good stuff!”
    Curtis smiled, reached over and ruffled the boy’s hair. “We’ll, see. Jacob. We’ll see.”
    The boy just glared at him for a moment, then turned away, staring out the truck’s window at nothing in particular.

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    1. Ah, this is a classic story! Classic! I love the way it's unfolding

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  7. Another late post, but here goes:

    Marion and Garland had found table near the back of the tavern, grateful for the reprieve from the salted stench of the sailors fresh returned from the Azaic Sea. Though far removed from the sailors swarming the bar, the pair was far removed from the attention of the barmaids as well. The Boiled Serpent was one of the largest taverns in this part of the city and was easily able to accommodate a hundred patrons. Marion watched as the barmaids gingerly moved between the tables that dotted the tavern each holding trays of salted meats and honeyed ales.
    Marion was so enamored by the barmaids that she hardly noticed the small man that had approached the table and began speaking to her brother Garland. He was no man at all, but rather a Dwarf. His round face was topped by a fiery orange mane of hair that draped down both shoulders and blended into his large beard. His squat features were hidden beneath fine silken clothing that did not seem to match his disheveled hair. Rings adorned nearly every finger on both of his hands and a heavy pouch was tied to his waist. He rested one hand on the jeweled hilt of a dagger; Marion took notice of the dagger, assuming it was merely for show.
    “Marion, this man is in need of our aid.”

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    1. THat's great. We are right into it! Are you going to bring magic into the story?

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  8. Another late post, but here goes:

    Marion and Garland had found table near the back of the tavern, grateful for the reprieve from the salted stench of the sailors fresh returned from the Azaic Sea. Though far removed from the sailors swarming the bar, the pair was far removed from the attention of the barmaids as well. The Boiled Serpent was one of the largest taverns in this part of the city and was easily able to accommodate a hundred patrons. Marion watched as the barmaids gingerly moved between the tables that dotted the tavern each holding trays of salted meats and honeyed ales.
    Marion was so enamored by the barmaids that she hardly noticed the small man that had approached the table and began speaking to her brother Garland. He was no man at all, but rather a Dwarf. His round face was topped by a fiery orange mane of hair that draped down both shoulders and blended into his large beard. His squat features were hidden beneath fine silken clothing that did not seem to match his disheveled hair. Rings adorned nearly every finger on both of his hands and a heavy pouch was tied to his waist. He rested one hand on the jeweled hilt of a dagger; Marion took notice of the dagger, assuming it was merely for show.
    “Marion, this man is in need of our aid.”

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    1. This is great man! I didn't see this before, but I love it.

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  9. Each time Glenda hit the “Repeat Bet” button on the Lucky Lemmings Slot a small win added to her growing jackpot. It was the fourth machine she dropped twenty dollars in, and each of her three previously redeemed tickets totaled just under twelve hundred dollars, barely skirting the amount that would otherwise require IRS notification.

    Right now the slot showed a credit balance of eleven hundred. Trevor figured she would move onto another machine in about ten minutes. Her attention zeroed in on the scrolling icons and silly cartoon graphics as if her corneas had been invisibly tethered to the machine. He had never seen that type of concentration, but that provided a break for Trevor. She had yet to spot him tailing her around the casino.

    The fingers of her right hand remained splayed open, tapping buttons with her pointer finger. She took a tiny sip of the complimentary frozen margarita, otherwise her left hand with fingers spread out like on her right, never moved from the top of her thigh. It seemed she deliberately let the cameras confirm a lack of hidden electronic devices in her hands. Only her necklace and earrings had been detected earlier as Trevor casually strolled behind her chair and performed a covert electronic sweep.

    He had to find out how she sucked over forty thousand dollars of unreported income from the casino in the past week. If he did, he was sure to secure the head of security position once Mr. Lograsso retired at the end of the month. The woman did ninety-four thousand at Harrah’s before they asked her to leave, and Rufus said the week prior the Flamingo lost sixty-seven thousand. He also mentioned that her hands were clearly visible at all times, only moving to hit the rebet button or to take a sip of her drink. They couldn’t kick her out for winning too much when not a single object on her body emitted an EMF frequency.

    The machine dinged as Glenda hit a forty dollar win and redeemed her ticket for eleven hundred and eighty-seven dollars. She slid off her chair and picked up the icy drink from the cupholder. Glenda sauntered along the aisle between clanging machines and frenetic spinning lights, ready to hit another slot, but not before she spun around and raised her glass to Trevor.

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