Posts Tagged ‘weekly exercises’

Weekly Exercise #10 (10/21/13)

Posted: October 21, 2013 in Scary Stuff, Weekly Exercises, Writing
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It’s time once again for my Weekly Exercises. These flash fiction pieces are my chance to practice my craft. They also act as sounding boards for readers to comment on how I’m doing, and they’re my shameless plug to get people interested in my published work.

This one’s a special one, since it’s number 10. Ten weeks in a row, plugging these things out. It’s been quite fun writing them and I’m constantly looking for new ideas for an exercise (and if you have one let me know. I may just write an exercise based on a suggestion, and you’ll get a mention). For this week’s exercise, I decided to do something a little special. I wrote a piece about an obsessed fan, but I changed a few things around for this piece. It’s always nice to try something original.

If you have any thoughts, please let me know. I love getting feedback from readers, which is partly what the Weekly Exercises are for. Also, if you want to take a look at any other exercises, you can check out the Weekly Exercises page.

Enjoy!

~~~

Katie loved the books of Emma Davies, stories of love and swashbuckling adventure on the high seas. She had probably read the Vivian Carpenter books a dozen times, cried each of the five times she’d read The Admiral’s Daughter, and when Davies’ latest book, Shanghai Bride, had come out, Katie had stayed up for two days straight reading it, pouring over the text, imagining the characters in her mind, gushing over each and every word in the book.

And sometimes, when she was alone at her apartment or at work or those rare opportunities when she was the only rider on the bus, she would kiss Emma Davies’ photo on the back of her paperbacks, kiss it like she’d never kissed anyone before. She loved the woman, blue eyes and blonde hair with pink highlights. Emma Davies loved Katie too, she knew it. Every book had been written for her, coded as a fun adventure story as well as a romance-filled love letter to Katie. Oh, when would Katie and Emma Davies be united at last? She couldn’t stand the wait!

So Katie packed up her bags and drove out to New Hampshire, where Emma Davies was supposed to live. It took some time, but Katie tracked Emma down to a lovely Victorian mansion in Concord with a brick wall encircling it. Oh, Katie wanted their wedding here! She climbed over the wall, tiptoed through the lawn to the back and was trying to unlock the back door when she felt a sharp pain on the top of her head and passed out.

When she woke up, her head hurt, she was in a dark room with only a single light bulb and no windows. Emma Davies stood before her, wearing a white silk kimono and frowning angrily. Overjoyed to be finally united with her, Katie tried to get up and hug her, but found she had been tied with chains and had a gag in her mouth. She tried to shout through the gag to Emma, but the beautiful woman only scoffed.

“Did you think that I would be happy to find you on my lawn?” she said, shaking her head. “I mean, I get how popular I am with my fans. I’ve hugged crying women more times than I can count at book signings and in the supermarket and while getting my hair done at Aveda. But honestly, if you’re going to sneak onto private property, you should know there are some consequences. So what do you have to say for yourself?”

Emma removed the gag. Katie sucked in a lungful of air. “Emma, I love you!” she cried, tears falling down her face. “Why are you doing this to me?”

“Oh, I love you too.” said Emma, kissing Katie’s forehead. “I love all my fans very dearly. But the ones who go the extra mile and think their love trumps my personal space must be punished when they step out of line.”

“What do you mean?” asked Katie, but as she spoke Emma picked up a chainsaw from the corner. Seeing it, she realized what was happening. She screamed.

“Oh, don’t scream.” said Emma, pulling the chainsaw’s cord. “It’ll be quick. And besides, you’ll be remembered. Once this kimono’s soaked up your blood, I’ll frame it in my office. I tell people the bloody kimonos I collect once belonged to a little-known pirate who was a terrible sadist. It’s a hoot how they buy it up. And yours make six. One for every book I’ve written! How exciting.”

“But I love you—“ And then there was only pain.

Weekly Exercise #9 (10/13/13)

Posted: October 13, 2013 in Scary Stuff, Weekly Exercises, Writing
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Time once again for my Weekly Exercises. These flash fiction pieces are part opportunity to practice my craft, part sounding board so as I can feedback on what works and what doesn’t work when I write, and part shameless plug to get readers interested in my published fiction. Remember, the Weekly Exercises rely on reader feedback, so whatever your thoughts, it’s greatly appreciated if you leave a comment and let me know.

Also, if you wish to see my past Weekly Exercises, please follow the link to the Weekly Exercises page.

~~~

He was angry. He’d been taken from the prison system as soon as his mother had died. They said they were going to take him to the funeral service. A special treat, said Officer Marcus, for good behavior. If anything, Teddy would’ve rather had a drink and some video games to celebrate his mother’s death rather than go to his funeral and see if anyone actually showed up, let alone anyone showed up with anything nice to say. After all, Teddy’s mother had let him go to school hungry every day to pay for her drug habit. And when he started breaking into people’s homes in high school, she had given him up as a scoundrel and a menace and lied at the trial! Now at least she could finance her drug habit without having to worry about her kid.

But he was glad to get out of prison for a little while. He could see the sun without having bars around him, and maybe convince these cops to stop by McDonalds for some real food.

But then he’d been taken to a government lab and drugged. And then they’d started experimenting on him, putting weird stuff into his bloodstream. What were they trying to achieve? To turn him into a super soldier? To see how they could awaken telekinetic abilities in him? To see how much a person could be tampered with before their bodies broke down? Or did they just do it for kicks and they had a poor minority kid in the system, so why not use him? Nobody would miss him!

But at some point the experiments had worked. And now he was taking his revenge. The scientists ran in terror while soldiers came for him with bullets. Teddy let them come, let them feel his wrath. He hit them with one of his new tentacles and then started biting them with his poisonous fangs. He was a monster, but he was finally the one in control of his life instead of stupid adults who only cared about themselves.

With a crash and a bang Teddy escaped the lab onto the roof. Far away were the lights of a huge city. Jumping off the roof, crashing through the gates and hiding in the forest, Teddy slowly made his way towards the city, using the trees and rocks and the river to hide from his pursuers. Now that he was out, he thought he’d hit the town and have a little fun.

Weekly Exercise #8 (10/7/13)

Posted: October 7, 2013 in Scary Stuff, Weekly Exercises, Writing
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It’s time for my Weekly Exercises again. These flash fiction pieces are part chance to practice my craft, part sounding board so that my readers can tell me what they think works or doesn’t work, and part shameless marketing ploy to get people interested in my published work. Remember, these Weekly Exercises rely on reader feedback, so whether you love it or hate it, please let me know. I love to hear your opinions.

This week’s exercise is a bit longer than the past seven have been. But it needed to be in order to get what I wanted out of it. Tell me, is it better being longer than the others? Or I was better being brief? You decide.

Hope you like it. And if you wish to read more of my Weekly Exercises, you can find them all on their very own page.

~~~

Lacey had been staring at the painting ever since they’d moved into the house. It came with the house, her mother said. It wasn’t very amazing, for a painting. It was a bunch of ladies in big dresses holding parasols on a beach. The plaque on the frame said it was called The Spider’s Web by William Ryan and painted in 1865. Other than the weird title, she didn’t know why she was so obsessed with the painting.

But for some reason Lacey kept staring at it, kept coming to look at the women in the dresses. Sometimes she thought she could hear the sound of waves and seagulls, a snatch of womanly laughter. And she wanted to know what the laughter was about.

Until the little girl appeared in the painting, though. She hadn’t been there before, hadn’t been holding the women’s hands when Lacey first moved here. And for some reason, the little girl looked a lot like Lacey. And she heard her voice giggling with the woman’s laughter and the seagulls and the ocean waves. She wanted to be in the painting too.

Momma was worried about Lacey. “You spend too much time in front of that painting.” she said. “Play with some toys. Watch TV. Go to school and make some friends. Put rocks up your nose.” And Lacey did all those things, went to school and made friends and played with toys and did things kids shouldn’t do. But she still stared at that painting. Stared at it, and the little girl with the women in the painting

And the painting whispered to her. It said that she could come in. They wanted Lacey to come in and be with them. Lacey wished and dreamed to be in the painting with them. And then one day, the women and little girl came out of the painting. But when they did, they became a big spider with a woman’s head. Lacey wasn’t scared though. She wanted this. And the spider lady picked her up in its six arms and brought her into the painting. And then Lacey was with the ladies on the beach, holding their hands and laughing with them.

She never knew what they laughed about, or that Momma cried when she disappeared, or that the spider lady was eating her soul bit by bit. But she laughed anyway, because she got her wish.

An Urge To Write But Barely Any Time For It

Posted: October 3, 2013 in Living and Life, Writing
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The life of a college student can be really crazy sometimes. Some days I just want to sit down and write, to finish the next chapter in one of my works-in-progress, or maybe a blog post or an article, or a short story. But first I have classes to take care of, and the homework that comes with them can’t be put off until the last second, and I work ten hours a week, and I have to cook my dinner and do my laundry, and I like to watch TV and read a book in the evenings, and I finally managed to find time to get a haircut today, which took some time from homework, but I got that done–where the heck is this train of thought going?!

Suffice to say, I’ve been crazy busy lately. And what’s the worse is that I just want to sti down and write. I’ve been hammering away at my computer on a chapter of Video Rage for about three days now, and I’m not halfway from finishing it. And I just WANT TO FINISH IT! And after that, I want to do another chapter of Laura Horn, followed by Video Rage or a Weekly Exercise, I don’t know. It depends on the day.

But you know, I got my priorities, and until those are out of the way, becoming the next HP Lovecraft will have to wait. The good news is I’m used to working on stories while being swamped with work, so I should still be on the usual production schedule (the first draft of a novel being done in six months to a year). So for now, I’ll keep working as hard as I can, when I can, where I can, and hopefully I’ll be able to get everything I want to get out as soon as I can.

At least in theory. I can’t get copyrights right now, thanks to the federal government shutting down here in the United States (thank you Congress! You’d all fail kindergarten if you had to go back there for a day!). And you know me, I like being insured in case of plagiarism or theft.

Well, I’m off to make a simple dinner and settle down for a nice, relaxing evening of writing and watching The Big Bang Theory and Scandal. Hopefully I’ll get this chapter of Video Rage done too!

Weekly Exercise #7 (9/30/13)

Posted: September 30, 2013 in Weekly Exercises, Writing
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It’s time once again for my Weekly Exercises. These flash fiction pieces are part chance to practice my craft, part sounding board so that readers can tell me what they think of my work, and part shameless ploy to get you interested in my published fiction. Remember, the Weekly Exercises rely on reader feedback, so whether you like or hate what’s below, please let me know. I always enjoy opinions…provided that nobody’s using swear words or calling me an idiot or something.

If you wish to read this and other Weekly Exercises, they are all listed on the Weekly Exercise page above. Enjoy.

~~~

Mark had thought that “Cousin Nemo” was Jenny’s cousin who had come to stay, and that she’d forgotten to tell him. Mark could kind of understand her forgetting to tell him that her cousin was coming to stay with them while he conducted business in town. She’d also forgotten to tell him that she liked getting some on the side when she was supposed to be at a business meeting. With all that and trying to keep things as normal as possible for the kids while each considered therapy or even divorce, forgetting that Cousin Nemo was coming to stay was understandable.

But then after two weeks, he’d gotten irritated with Cousin Nemo, who seemed to never be doing anything business-like. Instead he just hung out with the kids. He helped them with their homework. He took them to the park, to the zoo and the movies and bowling and roller-skating. He read them stories and tucked them into bed while Mark and Jenny were arguing with each other or making calls that had to do with anything but the state of their marriage. In short, Cousin Nemo was doing everything a parent was supposed to do besides feed and clothe them but he and Jenny had no time to do.

So he’d asked her this afternoon how long her cousin planned on staying with them. And Jenny had replied “I thought he was your cousin.” His insides had turned cold then. He’d called the police, he’d driven home, he’d nearly hit his wife’s car pulling into the driveway. They ran into the house, but the house was empty. No Cousin Nemo. No kids. Not even the dog. Just a note that said “Goodbye” on it.

Mark and Jenny didn’t do anything for a moment. Then they broke down crying. They cried for their marriage, for their kids, for their own stupidity, and they cried for themselves. Especially for themselves.

Weekly Exercise #6 (9/22/13)

Posted: September 22, 2013 in Scary Stuff, Weekly Exercises, Writing
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It’s time again for my Weekly Exercises. These flash fiction pieces are part opportunity to practice my craft, part sounding board to hear from readers what they think works and doesn’t work, and part shameless plug to get people interested in my published work. Remember, the Weekly Exercises rely on reader feedback, so whatever your thoughts, please let me know. I like feedback, positive or negative.

This week’s exercise is brought to you by Water. “Water: You need it, so why not take a dip?” It’s also brought to you by Fear. “Fear: the makers of ‘What was that?'”

Enjoy.

~~~

She’d been kidnapped on the way home from her last class. He’d taken her to his home, tied her up, done things to her. He said there’d been news reports about a missing co-ed from the local college, a pretty redhead whom nobody could think of why someone would want to hurt her. He’d laughed all the while he was hurting her.

Now he’d tied her up, put a gag in her mouth, and thrown her into the pit behind his house, naked as the day she was born. He said he was done and had had his fun. She screamed up to him through the gag, begging for mercy. He said he’d installed a drain in the pit that could only be opened from above. Then he closed it and snaked a hose in.

Cold water fell from above. She cried, begging for her life. She’d do anything for him. But all he did was laugh and watch and film it with his camera, like he’d filmed everything else he’d done to her. The water was up to her ankles. She tried to break her bonds, but they were too strong. The water was up to her waist now. There wasn’t room to move, and she couldn’t swim. Up to her neck now, very little moonlight left. She cried a tear, but it was lost in all the water.

Weekly Exercise #5 (9/17/13)

Posted: September 17, 2013 in Scary Stuff, Weekly Exercises, Writing
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In addition to being the second-month anniversary of The Quiet Game: Five Tales To Chill Your Bones (post to come later) this is also the day I do my weekly exercises. These flash fiction pieces are chances to practice my craft, chances to hear reader views, and shameless plugs to get you interested in my published fiction. And today’s the fifth one, meaning I can stick with this.

Remember, the exercises depend on reader feedback, so whatever you think, please let me know. I love hearing from you.

~~~

He had killed them all. A year ago, he and his wife had left a restaurant and they had jumped him, beaten him and given him a Glasgow smile, so now he always looked like he was smiling. He’d lived, but his wife hadn’t been so lucky. She had been raped and killed by the punks who’d cut his face open. The autopsy had revealed she was three weeks pregnant with their first child.

The police couldn’t find them. Didn’t have the time, with all the gang crimes in this city. But he hadn’t stopped looking for them. And he’d found them. And now they lay all around him, with eternal smiles full of blood on their faces. He looked at their pitiful faces, and then he left. He was going to put flowers on his wife’s grave.

Weekly Exercises #4 (9/11/13)

Posted: September 11, 2013 in Scary Stuff, Weekly Exercises, Writing
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It’s time for my weekly exercises. These pieces of flash fiction are part chance to practice my craft, part oppurtunity to get reader feedback on what’s scary and what’s not, and part shameless marketing ploy to get people interested in my published work. Remember, these exercises depend on reader feedback, so please give me your thoughts, good or bad, on the piece below.

The sky turned black as midnight. Everyone stared towards the heavens and the inky blackness. A moment ago the sky had been bright and blue, the sun still high above at four in the afternoon. But then it had turned pitch-black, like looking into an inkpot. No moon, no stars. Not a single source of light burned in the sky, and not even street lamps sensitive to changes in light could dispel away the darkness.

Family huddled together in fear. Lovers held each other, comforting each other in order to forget their disorientation and confusion. People left their offices, homes, and stores just to stare at the impossibly-black sky. For maybe five minutes, nothing changed and nobody moved, just looking at the sky in terrified wonderment.

And then a giant, skeletal hand appeared from the inky blackness and reached down as if to grab them all and take them away. Maybe that was its purpose. And the people who saw the hand and the long arm attached to it screamed.

Weekly Exercise #3 (9/1/2013)

Posted: September 1, 2013 in Living and Life, Scary Stuff, Weekly Exercises, Writing
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Time for my weekly exercises again. These short little pieces of flash fiction are part practice of my craft, part chance to get some feedback on my work, and part shameless marketing ploy to get you to take an interest in my work. Remember, feedback is important, positive or negative, so whatever you think, please let me know if you like what you read.

Today’s exercise features a favorite of mine: the evil doll. Hope it chills you to the bone.

~~~

Danny had never been allowed in Grandmother’s room in his eight short years, but he supposed nobody would care since Grandmother was now dead. He walked around the room, staring at all the old photos and the ancient furniture. The room had a strange smell, the smell of forgotten things and things that had seen their day years ago. At the foot of Grandmother’s bed was a large wooden crate with big, metal clasps and a sign that said NEVER OPEN. Curious, Danny undid the clasps, opened up the crate, and looked inside.

Lying on the floor of the crate was a doll in a blue sailor’s dress. It was the same size as Danny, with long red hair and pale skin that looked so real Danny at first thought it was a real girl. He reached down to pick the doll up, but then it suddenly stood up on its own and threw its arms around Danny in a big bear hug. The doll whispered in his ear, “Play with me forever or I’ll kill you.”

Weekly Exercise #2 (8/27/2013)

Posted: August 27, 2013 in Scary Stuff, Weekly Exercises, Writing
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It’s time for my weekly exercise, partly to practice my craft, partly to see what works and what doesn’t, and partly as a shameless marketing ploy to get readers interested in my published or to-be published work. I rely on your feedback, so whatever you think, please let me know.

Also, this week’s exercise might be a little sexual, so if you’re under the age of 15 or have a really innocent outlook on life, I suggest you stop reading and instead go knit yourself a sweater or watch an episode of your favorite cartoons from when you’re a kid. If not, please read on.

He started and woke up as he felt a dainty, thin-fingered hand on his cock. He grinned, feeling his excitement from earlier coming back. He had thought that, being a church girl and the preacher’s daughter, she wouldn’t want anything to do with him after he had taken her special flower. Looks like all it took was a little wine and some sweet talk and he could make this girl crazy for him.

He turned over, ready for round two, but was surprised to see no one there. Then he heard a flush and saw her coming out of the bathroom wearing a pink robe. He stared at her, his eyes wide, before looking under the covers to see whose hand was still around his cock.

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