KoMF Sept 2012

It's time for Knights of Microfiction, a bloghop hosted by Imagine Today and Write, Skate, Dream.

This time we are giving you 5 TELLING sentences to choose from.  The object is to pick a sentence and create a scene in 500 words or less that SHOWS what the sentence is about.

For bonus points, don't include the sentence you chose (or any alteration of it) in your scene. Your readers should be able to guess which one you described!

Here are the sentences to choose from:

1. It was the most interesting birthday ever. (This is in honor of Jess' 16th birthday on Saturday! Happy Birthday Jess! :))
2. He/she's so obnoxious.  
3. It was dark.
4. The meal was delicious.
5. He/she was in a bad mood.

Here's my piece:


Christopher laughed out loud, spinning around with his arms outstretched as if to embrace the world. “I’m alive!”

Unable to resist, Lance allowed himself a smile. “In a manner of speaking, yes.”

Christopher grabbed Lance, sweeping him off his feet and into a bearhug. “I can’t believe how strong I am!”

Lance stepped back and straightened his coat. Flicking imaginary dust from his sleeve, he replied, “Are you implying that I’m heavy? You should be more respectful to your sire.”

“Oh, right. Of course.” He grinned. “I’m sorry...Dad.”

Lance grimaced. “I’d rather you didn’t. I feel old enough as it is.”

"You'll never be old. And now, neither will I."

The Food of Love - 2012 Writer's Week

Emily Seuss' Writer's Week

The following is my entry in Seuss' Pieces 2012 Writer's Week. The prompt I chose was "Reading music is like..."

Reading music is like seeing sound. The symbols on the page form themselves into a melody with harmonies and counterpoints, and I can almost hear the piece before I touch the keys.

Hearing music is like feeling fusion. The individual notes combine to create a complicated dance that fills my soul with joy, and I am lifted up.

Playing music is like controlling chaos. I create it, yet I am carried away by it, and I am free.

Play on.

You Shall Not Pass = Don't Let That?

I recently took up a challenge to write a fantasy flash fiction using the following prompt:



Go to Badtranslator.
In the first box, type in "You shall not pass"
For the translator, select Bing (Microsoft Translator)
For the number of translations, select 18.
Check the box that says Random Language Order.
Click Translate.
Now, take the translated phrase and write a 400-1,500 word story using your result as the first line.  Here's the trick: Your story must not include any T's, except for the line taken from Bad Translator.


This was probably the most difficult writing challenge I've taken on yet. The most difficult part for me was getting to the minimum 400 words without using the letter t. When I followed the above directions, Bad Translator spit out the phrase: "Don't let that." My story is below.



“Don’t let that fall,” David warned, eyeing his slave sharply.
Ignoring him, Karel slid his burden carefully off of his silver salver, placing his showy ice carving on a marble slab for display. Humans were always so anxious, especially regarding Elmedanin--or Elves as Humans called Karel’s people. Karel briefly pondered dumping his heavy carving on David’s head; however, discipline for Elves who killed or even injured Humans was very severe, and he grudgingly reconsidered.
“Looks a smidgen lopsided.” David inclined his head, his hands on his hips, imperiously eyeballing Karel’s work.
Karel laboriously levelled his carving, envisioning David frozen inside, enclosed in ice forever, and he smiled. Many Humans wrongly assumed Elves were never angry or aggressive, and never experienced any dark feelings. Elmedanin could be as warlike as any Human; however, usually chose peace. Accordingly, Humans had easily conquered and enslaved Elmedanin who calmly acquiesced. Foolishness, really; peace was all well and good only if you had no enemies.
David nodded, smiling. “Much nicer.” He glanced down and, seeing his chrono, gasped. “Our company will be here soon!” Imperiously signalling Karel, he spun and marched down his gravelled garden walkway. “Make sure all is ready,” he called over his shoulder as he rushed inside his lavish mansion, probably planning which apparel he would wear for maximum impression on his company who would also plan wardrobes accordingly.
Karel sighed; unlike many Elmedanin here, he could remember life before Humans, and he cherished his memories. Life was simpler before Humans invaded, conquering and enslaving, using a magic no Elmedanin had ever seen or imagined, a magic Humans called “science.” Before Humans came, Karel had been free; he had owned his own life. Many Elmedanin had been born slaves, or enslaved young so had no memories of freedom.
However, some Elmedanin had never been enslaved and lived free as before. He would as well. Unobserved now, he slipped a phial from his sleeve and dripped a few drops of a colourless liquid in a silver amphora brim-full of heady Alseni wine. Nassi blossom essence had no flavour or odour, and would never be recognized by Human medical examiners. Nassi blossom essence had only one drawback: severe drunkenness and occasionally unconsciousness. Karel would have ample leisure--his escape would be easy.
Soon, he would be free: free of Humans and Human caprices; free of chains real or symbolic. He would own his own life once again.

Thunderstorm

It's time for Knights of MicroFiction, hosted by Jess and Kathy. The prompt is "In 200 words or less write a flash fiction using the phrase:  The sky darkened..."

The sky darkened while I watched, listening to the rolling rumbles shake the heavens. I felt the sound in my bones, in my soul. A cool breeze washed over me, tempting me to close my eyes, to lose myself in the sensations. I resisted the urge, watching the sky, waiting.
There! A spear of light cut through the clouds to my right, thrusting down toward the earth. As I blinked away the afterimage, another one stabbed downward on my left. And another directly in front.
My heart rose within me, beating like a bird’s wings. And I did feel as if I could fly.

Knights of Microfiction

It's time for Knights of Microfiction, hosted by Jessica K. McKendry. This month, the prompt is "Write a flash fiction in 200 words or less beginning with the phrase:  Her eyes shot open...
You are free to change the gender and POV if you want."

Here's my entry:

Her eyes shot open and she flung herself to the side, rolling off the bed and landing on hands and knees on the cabin floor. His eyes glittered and he hissed in frustration as his dagger cut through the mattress. Pulling it free with a jerk, he lunged at her, but a swell tossed the floor beneath him, throwing him against the wall. She drew a knife from her boot and followed him, stabbing in fury.
“Remind me never to make you that angry.”
Bloody blade held in front of her, she spun to confront the new threat.
“Whoa. Whoa.” He stepped back, his hands up with palms out. “It’s me.”
“How did that get into my quarters?” She pointed at the corpse with her knife.
He rubbed his chin and eyed her sideways while studying the body. “Judging by the state of his clothes, he’s been stowed away in the bilge. Probably came aboard where we stopped for fresh water.”
“How long will she send them after me! How long!?” She flung her knife into the wall where it stuck, quivering.
He pulled her into his arms, but made no reply. None was needed.

The Hunt

She walked boldly through the nightdark city streets, unafraid, certain that nothing would dare to threaten her. Impatiently, she brushed her long black hair from her eyes, cursing the breeze that had blown it across her face. Blue eyes looked at the world out of a face that in the light would appear unnaturally pale and bloodless.
He followed, slipping from shadow to shadow, keeping her just in sight. It appeared that she was unaware of his presence, but he couldn’t be sure. Surprise would be to his advantage tonight, but he was confident of the outcome even without it.
Sliding his hand into the pocket of his dark grey hoodie, he gripped the leather-wrapped handle of his knife. He wished he could have brought his sword, as he was more comfortable with the longer blade, but it was much harder to conceal it, even at night.
She entered a forested park, still moving carelessly, certain of her own invulnerability. He smiled. The young ones always thought they were untouchable. They were always shocked when he showed them how wrong they were.

As the trees closed in, he quickened his steps, no longer caring if she heard him. She did, and she stopped and turned, smiling as she saw him coming.

He waited until he was close enough to touch her before drawing the knife and slipping the leather sheath from its blade. She caught the movement and looked down, a small frown creasing her brow at sight of the blade shimmering in the moonlight that filtered through the branches above. As she raised her eyes in question, still not considering that he might be a danger to her, he stepped forward and plunged the silver blade into her heart.
Her eyes widened and she grabbed at his hand—too late. As her blue eyes faded to grey she whispered, “Why?” But he gave no answer, yanking his knife free and stepping back as she fell to her knees, her strength leaving her. He pulled a rag from another pocket and wiped the blade, careful not to touch it.
She toppled sideways into the litter of leaves and twigs, her hands futilely trying to find something to hold onto, something to save her. Disbelief and betrayal shone from her eyes. He watched impassively and waited until she stilled and her body dissolved into dust, disappearing into the detritus, leaving no trace of her existence.
He sheathed his knife and returned it to his pocket. Tilting his wristwatch, he caught a beam of moonlight. It was still early. There was time for another hunt tonight.