WRiTE CLUB 2013 - Bout 7

Our winner of Bout #5...Imalie Teller!  Congrats Imalie, now comes the agonizing wait for the play-offs.

I've spent the majority of my adult career in the Customer Service field and one of the most frustrating things about that line of work is that despite what the motto says...THE CUSTOMER IS NOT ALWAYS RIGHT! After manning a 24-hour support line for a couple of years, as well as factoring in my own experiences with people in my life, I can tell you that the majority of issues originate because customers do not read the instructions.  I guess the same is true for WRiTE CLUB, because in every round so far somebody has voted without registering on the Linky List first.  Maybe its intentional?  Maybe they want to voice an opinion without having it impact the decision of who wins or loses? 

Why have a Linky List in the first place?  Because in the very first iteration of WRiTE CLUB there were some suspicious votes that appeared and it became clear that it was too easy for one person to vote multiple times.  I started using the linky list to provide more accountability.  Anyway, once again here is my attempt to prevent empty votes from happening.  Been here since day one or arrived just today, anybody can vote on their favorite writing sample...just sign up on the Linky List first!

Are you ready for a bone-crushing battle of words? 

Here are this bout's randomly selected WRiTER's.

Standing in the far corner, weighing in with 500 words or Urban Fantasy, please welcome to the ring FMWriter.



I remembered the large bull on Dion's balcony. The snorting animal seemed to understand more of what was going on than I did. The evening had started at Dionysus's high end strip club, Goddess, in the VIP section to celebrate his new brand of wine. Ares and I were celebrating six months of not breaking up. The wine started pouring and half naked women bounced everywhere as dollar bills slithered their way into sweaty crevasses. Ares didn't have enough money to split the check from our dinner earlier but he somehow had enough cash to "make it rain" here. The never ending wine helped me not to notice. Never underestimate a gorgon's ability for denial. A trait my mother taught me well.

Dion had snorted a line, and his pupils burst wide open. He started rambling about eternity or immortality or some shit like that. He always gets really immortal when he gets high. But it had infected Ares and he started rambling about how we were "so perfect right now," and how he wanted to "preserve our love." It sounded so romantic and what I'd been dying to hear for years. So I agreed and wound up here on Dion's balcony naked and contemplated petting the big dark bull to the right of me. Dion always brings out the worst and weirdest in me.

I held my hand out to the beast and he bellowed again. His nose ring wiggled as he scrunched his nose. I took small steps towards the balcony ledge and the tarp beneath my feet made crinkly noises. I looked back at Dion and my snakes slithered in waves around me.

He looked up from the book he was studying. “This flooring cost me a fortune. Blood is a bitch to remove, from anything. Remember that.” Immortals give the oddest advice. The hood of his velvet robe covered his face as wisps of his long black hair peeked out the corners.

I should've walked away at the mention of blood. I foolishly thought we were going to do a commitment ceremony since our kind couldn't legally marry yet. And no one said otherwise until the bull arrived. To this day I've never figured out how they got a bull up to a penthouse at three am.

“When was the last time you performed a blood oath ceremony?” I mouthed the words "blood oath" several times in order for it to feel right in my mouth. I would be exchanging blood with Ares, binding us together for eternity. He would never leave me again and hopefully stop cheating too. I said it once more to calm the storm in my stomach. Dion slammed his book shut and gripped my shoulder to help steady me; it was a nice bit of warmth on this windy autumn night. “Sometime in the late sixties; I hope to be reunited with my blood brother one day. We promised to spend our days in the Elysian Fields, writing verse and drinking wine.”
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And in the other corner, weighing in at 499 words in the YA Post Apocalypse genre, let me introduce to you Joy Stique.





Douglas laid down the axe and stepped back. He wiped his brow with the sleeve of his flannel shirt and sat down on the crude bench made from two short logs and a longer log. His stump was aching where it met the foam of his home-made prosthetic. He needed to find a car soon, so he could scavenge some newer foam from one of the seats.

He sensed someone, and he glanced to his right and saw Petal. The pre-teen was staring at him and holding something between her hands.

“You want something?”

Petal approached him cautiously as if he was a big dog she had never met. When she was three paces away, she lifted her hands.

“Whatcha got?”

“Cigarettes. They’re for saving me from those two men.”

She handed the small box to Douglas. Curious, he turned the box this way and that as he examined the package. He had seen cigarettes before, usually half smoked, and he had seen the packages, but he had never seen or held one that was not opened.

“You’re giving me this package of cigarette? You know a lot of people would give you some good stuff for this package.”

“Susanna says only bad people smoke cigarettes.”

Douglas paused his inspection. “Susanna says only bad people smoke cigarettes?”

Petal nodded.

“So you’re giving them to me.”

Petal nodded again. Douglas shook his head with amused disgust.

“How about you? Are you good or bad?”

Petal frowned. She sat down next to Douglas, leaned forward, put her elbow on her knee and grasped her chin. She thought about the question, her little brow furrowed.

“I’m not sure.”

“Well, I suppose there is one way to find out.”

“What’s that?”

“We could each smoke one of these cigarettes.”

Petal lifted her head and looked at him. “Really?” Her voice was full of eagerness.

“Sure. If we like it, we’ll know we’re bad.”

Petal was tempted, very tempted. She looked around in a surreptitious manner. She knew Susanna would lecture her if she was caught smoking a cigarette. Susanna was the only mother-like person she knew. She didn’t want to disappoint Susanna, but still…

“We can’t tell anybody.”

“It’s our secret,” Douglas assured the girl.

“Okay.”

Petal gave up any pretense of reluctance and watched fascinated as Douglas tore off the plastic wrapper. Using his fingers he tried to pull out one of the cigarettes, but it stubbornly resisted. Emitting an incoherent sound of frustration, he found a sliver of oak and managed to force one of the cigarettes far enough out of the package to where he could pull it the rest of the way. He handed that cigarette to Petal and took another for himself. Then he took a small device from his pocket.

“What’s that?”

“It’s a cigarette lighter. They used to have a lot of them back in the old world.”

A few minutes later, the man and girl were coughing violently from the smoke in their lungs.
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Please tell everyone you know about what's going on here at WRiTE CLUB and encourage them to make a selection as well.  The voting will remain open until noon next Sunday (Aug. 4th). 

Remember, here in WRiTE CLUB, it’s not about the last man/woman standing, it’s about who knocks the audience out!