WRiTE CLUB 2019 - Semi-Final #2

Today is the 2nd and final WRiTE CLUB bout where the readers have a say in the outcome.  After these two bouts, it will be in the hands of the celebrity judges. But first, we need to decide who gets that opportunity.

The voting for both of this week's bouts will close on Sunday, June 16th (noon central time).

Here once again are the voting guidelines –

1) One vote per visitor per bout.

2) Anyone can vote (even the contestants themselves), but although our contestants are anonymous, voters cannot be. Anonymous votes will not count, so if you do not have a Google account and are voting as a guest, be sure to include your name and email address.

3) Using any method (email, social media, text, etc) to solicit votes for a specific contestant will cause that contestant's immediate disqualification. It’s perfectly okay, in fact, it is encouraged to spread the word about the contest to get more people to vote, just not for a specific writer!

4) Although more of a suggestion than a rule - cast your vote before you read other comments. Do not let yourself be swayed by the opinions of others.

Like the man say's

Welcome back to the ring our first contestant...Organized Confusion

“What do you call that one?” Nikki asked the old rancher standing next to her. She pointed at an enormous dark gray gelding watching from the depths of the muddy pasture. An electric shock of recognition zinged through her, although she'd never seen this particular horse before.

“You don't want that one, ma'am,” the man said around the wad of tobacco in his lip. “That one's trouble.” He spit a copper stream at the ground in emphasis.

*

Her father leaned back on the sofa, eyes hard, as Nikki fell silent. “Not in my house,” he said.

Her mother said nothing, only sat blinking with one hand over her mouth. Finally, she lowered her hand and smoothed at invisible wrinkles on her skirt.

“Nicolette, sweetheart …” She faltered. “What your father is trying to say—”

“I'm not trying to say anything, Marjorie. I'm saying it. If she wants to get up to that kind of—” He grimaced. “—filth, well, she's made her choice.”

“Dad—” Nikki wanted to take it back. After thirty-eight years, the weight of hiding had become unbearable, but she hadn't been prepared for this. She just wanted her parents to see the real her, the whole her.

Instead, he stood, looking past her. “You need to leave.”

“Daddy—”

“I'm not your Daddy. The daughter I raised would never break her mother's heart or disrespect God's laws in such a way. I don't know you.”

He left without making eye contact. She watched him walk heavily down the hall and out of sight. The bang of the screen door jolted her mother out of her paralysis. Like Nikki's father, she stood. Unlike him, she studied her daughter's face.

“I don't understand why you always have to cause such trouble, Nicolette,” she said.

*

Nikki walked the fence-line, mesmerized. She'd come looking for a new riding horse, but her mental list of requirements had evaporated at the first glimpse of rich coat and bold stance.

“What's his name?” she asked the rancher.

“He ain't got no name. Ain't gonna be here long enough to need one.”

At Nikki's questioning look, the man shrugged. “S'the way it is. Can't sell a horse won't let hisself be broke.”

She watched as the animal's velvet nose flared, reading the wind. Her heart thumped in time with his hooves as he galloped to the far end of the field. He slowed near a gnarled old tree and turned to look at her again.

The gelding held her gaze a moment before dropping his massive head to nibble at the grass. I see you, his eyes said. You don't have to let them break you, either.

“I'll take him,” Nikki said, surprising herself almost as much as the old man. All she knew was that she needed this horse and he needed her. They'd figure the rest out together. “I'll pick him up this afternoon.”

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Also welcome our second contestant...Sicaria

The hounds bay in the distance, their mournful cries shattering the quiet of the morning.

“Your red hair will give you an advantage,” Melody, my handmaid, says as she finishes coiling my tresses into elaborate braids.

I glance out the window. Across the manicured lawn, the brilliant autumn colors turn the forest into a kaleidoscope of reds, oranges, and yellows. A breeze carries with it the smell of woodsmoke and the promise of an early snow. “Perhaps.”

Melody grabs a makeup brush and draws swirls of brown on my face, followed by black. “Are you ready for the hunt?”

I swallow my fear. “Of course.” It’s the expected answer after I declared I would rather participate in the hunt to keep my land and my home instead of marry that imbecile, Lord Timothy. In the moment, it’d seemed the better choice.

My words don’t fool Melody. “It was the right choice, Lady Celeste.”

I almost laugh. It was an impulsive choice made by an impulsive girl. Father always said my inability to think before I speak would be the end of me. I bite my lip to stop the tears from falling. If he hadn’t died, my future would be secure.

Outside, the sound of men whooping and yelling races toward my window, and terror coils around me like a boa constrictor squeezing its prey.

“Do you think I’ll be fine?” My voice is barely a whisper.

The love in Melody’s eyes is reminiscent of my mother. “I’ve seen several hunts, and winning always comes down to being brave and smart. You’re both.”

“I’m not brave.”

“You are.” Melody sets down her brush and pulls me to my feet. “You’ll do well.”

“I wish I didn’t have to wear this.” I smooth my camouflage skirt with trembling hands.

Melody gives me a soft smile. “If only ladies could wear pants.”

“If only ladies didn’t have to fight for what’s rightfully theirs.” The bell tower chimes eight, and my breath quickens.

“Come.” Melody opens my door and ushers me downstairs and outside.

“I’ll see you in an hour?” Tears prick at my eyes as I look at Melody for reassurance.

“In an hour.” She kisses my cheek. “Now go.”

I lift my skirts and hurry across the lawn toward the forest. Near the edge, men on horses wait with their hounds.

“My lords.” I eye the five men on horseback. Lord Timothy glares at me when my gaze locks with his. My refusal cost him his honor, and if he wins, he gets that back along with my home and fortune. I lift my chin. He won’t win.

“You get a five minute lead,” says Lord Andrew. “If we don’t find you, then,” he waves his hand as though he doesn’t believe it’s a possibility, “you win. And if we do, well…”

I nod, determination mingling with fear to create a potent fire. They won’t find me—I refuse to die today.

Lord Chambers cocks an eyebrow. “You better start running.”

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Please leave your votes and critiques in the comments below. Again, be respectful of your remarks and try to point out positives as well as detractions.

We’ll be back Monday with the final 1,000 word battle. 

Please help all our writers out by telling everyone you know what is happening here and encourage them to come vote.

This is WRiTE CLUB—the contest where the audience gets clobbered!