Please help me welcome Fake Name as the winner of a round 22. Nia Wolfe, will have his/her piece returned to the pool for a chance at re-selection for a future bout, or he/she has the opportunity to submit a new writing sample. Make sure you check my WRiTE CLUB 2012 results page for a breakdown of all the winners so far, along with links to all of the writing samples.
We're cutting straight to the chase today.
Here are this rounds randomly selected WRiTER's.
Standing in the far corner, weighing in at 444 words, please welcome to the ring……..Writer On The Storm.
Talia flushed with embarrassment as if she failed someone without knowing why. "I have looked and asked and only receive short answers."
Mert nodded in understanding. "I understand. Really, I would have been surprised if you found anything at all." She adjusted her feet and tucked them underneath her. "You know of the Faceless Woman then?"
Urgo broke his long silence with a laugh. "The children's tale? The creature meant to send children to their beds in shivers?" He laughed again, wiping his eye. "Yes, I know of her. Should we get into our sleeping areas as you tell us her tale?"
"Urgo!" Amethyst warned.
"You don't believe her, do you Amethyst?" He looked at her with enjoyment and surprise.
"Go on..." Amethyst told her.
Mert shook her head. Talia noticed deep disapproval and sadness in her eyes.
"Children's tales to you now. A harsh reality that predicted the fate of the Gifted for others." Mert continued. "She was a student once. It was during the the time we actually trained the gifted, instead of turning them away or making them into products of manipulation for our own sense of purpose."
Mert looked at Urgo as she continued. "You forget the age of your elders, young man. So much of the truth in history can be lost over hundreds of years." She looked down at her hands. "Especially among the tight lipped authority figures."
"What happened to her?" Talia asked. She should have stopped her from continuing further. She should have ordered them to bed. To just continue their journey in the morning without this conversation. And without the Master of Power to join them. But she didn't.
"She was Gifted, like you. During those times we were careful on what we taught the Gifted ones. Many of the Master's of Power were against teaching them about the darker powers at all. But we knew that would only encourage the Gifted to learn it more. So, we gave them just small spoonfuls of the power and learning how it's used. And she just ...overwhelmed herself with it. Determined to learn all she could."
Talia heard her heart thud in her chest. The words rang so familiar to her. Words she had said herself.
"What happened next?" She prompted.
Mert shut her eyes before she continued. "She yearned for more. She learned how to steal the power from others and leave them empty inside. And then there came a point when the Masters of Power knew it was time to take steps to protect our world and others from further damage. And that's when the head Master of Power came into my office one day..."
And in the other corner, weighing in at 495 words, let me introduce to you ……..Blue Cookie.
I peered up through a tangle of blackberry canes. Dusky little birds hopped among the brambles above me making the dead inner leaves quake.
Lying on my side with thorns snagged into my snow-white dress, I couldn't move. My bare arm dribbled lines of blood that tracked down between my breasts. The pain from those and a hundred other punctures rushed in on me. “Help!” I yelped.
Where was Silas?
Yesterday, I left home from an old Victorian near Golden Gate Park. It’s pretty shabby. I have to duck through the doorway fast in case a bit of gingerbread falls.
I settled at a table at my favorite coffee shop with a cup of tea prepared in the English style, with milk. Setting most of my newspaper on the seat next to me, I pulled out the comics section. A man sat down on top of the rest. He was an aging biker type – long reddish hair with a mustache trailing down his cheeks. I shifted away.
“Any Earth shaking news in there?” He leaned forward so his laced leather vest squeaked.
I frowned over the top of the comics. “The Red Baron shot Snoopy down.”
The man set his elbows on the table. “That’s from World War I. He must be a vet. Me too.”
“Schultz is dead.”
“I got shot in the left buttock. Lemme show you.” He twisted in his chair, pulled his pants down to a precarious midpoint and pointed to a white puckered scar. “See it?”
I snapped my teeth back together and stammered, “You must have been very…”
“I’m no hero. It was my buddy that did it.” He chuckled. “He got reassigned to a desk job damn fast.”
“That was probably a good…”
“When I lay in the ward after they dug that hunk o’ metal out of my ass, it occurred to me that I coulda died. I had, whaddya call it, an epiphany.”
I stood up. “It’s been very nice to meet you.”
He stood too and offered his hand. “Silas.”
I hesitated, then put my hand in his. His large fingers cradled mine. “I’m more glad than you know, Miss…?”
I looked into his earnest eyes. “I’m, uh, just call me Betty.”
He eased me back down to a seat.
“Where was I? Oh yeah, the epiphany. I thought then I had to know God. I’m not the churchgoing type, so I did for myself. I swore to read the Bible three hours every day. You should try it, Miss Betty.”
I cracked a smile. “It’s not my cup of tea.”
His eyes grew wide. “But it works. After I got discharged I wanted a bike real bad but funds was scarce.” He glanced around like he was about to impart a hot stock tip and lowered his voice. “I bet you never met anybody that got a loan for a Harley before.” He seemed to be holding his breath, waiting for me to answer.
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