#gcdofdoom

[10minutestodoom-blog]

GCDof Doom #7

Goal/Conflict/Disaster of Doom. Each writer had 10 minutes to write a scene to the following prompt:

Goal: Protagonist must convince their offspring to follow a ‘set path’

Conflict: The offspring has their own plans and the protagonist is themselves conflicted about the right choice.

Disaster: ? Your choice…

GCD of Doom #7 by Tom Cassady

Now Pratrolias, what we do, you see is take this, this is called Plaster right? First we paste it on, evenly and not too thick. " The old man smeared the wet liquid across the smooth put pock-marked brickwork, the soft material filling the gaps and creating an even surfacer across the wall. Pratrolias was staring out the doorway "Dad, I think you might need to see this?" there was a stunned wonder in the boys voice but Ventra was already fuilly into his stride. "No, no, no, don't get distracted now, this is the difficult part. Stop all that gawping and get over here. Okay, here's the important bit right, get the plaster up on the wall then give it a little bit. No more than a little bit mind you! Okay when that's happened take the paint and get to work on the fresco. If you don't paint on wet plaster then the picture won't set properly and we'll have to come out here again in a couple of weeks and do this all over again.  Paint it wet and it'll stay set! Remember that." "Dad, I think we need to get out of here." Said pratrolias but Ventra could barely hear him over the rucus going on outside. Thats why he didn't like coming into the city, too much bloody noise everywhere, too many people, not like in the countryside where He and Pratrolias' mother moved a few eyars ago. But you know howww things are, sometimes you just need to come back to make some money to enjoy the really nice things, ah well you know what they say Pompeii pays

[10minutestodoom-blog]

GCD of Doom #6

Goal/Conflict/Disaster of Doom. Each writer had 10 minutes to write a scene to the following prompt:

Goal: Protagonist must convince their offspring to follow a ‘set path’

Conflict: The offspring has their own plans and the protagonist is themselves conflicted about the right choice.

Disaster: ? Your choice…

GCD of Doom #6 by William C. E. Fortune

Elias' measured penmanship was interrupted by a soft knock at the door. The wild black hair and rounded ruddy face of his assistant, Rubin appeared around the oak frame.

Rubin looked anxious. "Sir," he said. "He's here. Jesse's here."

"It's ok, Rubin," said Elias kindly. "Send him in."

His assistant reversed out of the room and clicked the door shut quietly as he went. Rubin had been by Elias' side through two brutal campaigns and yet he'd never seen him this unnerved. Well, if it was hard for him it was sure to be doubly so for Elias himself. He deftly retrieved a monogrammed hip flask from his breast pocket and took a mighty swig of O'Reary's best before replacing the flask safely next to his heart.

The door opened again, this time with no knock preceeding it and in swaggered Jesse. The prodigal son or the black sheep; it would depend whether you were talking to his father or mother.

"Take a seat, Son," said Elias.

"Sure," said Jesse.

Well, alright, thought Elias. 'Sure' is better than usual.

Elias joined his son as they sat at the matching mangowood table and chair set, an innauguration gift from President M'Zanwa.

"I'll cut to it," started Elias. "I want you to stand in Ohio."

"Jesus, dad. We're gonna play this record again? We've worn a rut into the vinyl. Even the diamond's turned to powder."

"We're McCormacks, Jesse. We're the McCormacks - we're a dynasty."

Jesse left the couch like a rocket.

Elias stood, too, and put a conciliatory hand on his boy's shoulder. "I can't let it die with me."

[10minutestodoom-blog]

GCD of Doom #5

Goal/Conflict/Disaster of Doom. Each writer had 10 minutes to write a scene to the following prompt:

Goal: Protagonist must convince their offspring to follow a ‘set path’

Conflict: The offspring has their own plans and the protagonist is themselves conflicted about the right choice.

Disaster: ? Your choice…

GCD of Doom #5 by Mark Danger Ridley

        “But father, I cannot,” Jeanni protested as pearls welled in the corner of her eyes.          “You must do as I say,” Djannar insisted, lifting his daughter from the bed. “It's time for you to be a brave girl. Ypu have to get to the lawman.” The smell of smoke and the whisper of screams had seeped through the wooden panels of the shack into the young girls bedroom.          “But father it is so late, you always told me to shy away from the FaireBrooke after evensdark.” Little Jaenni dug the sleep from here eyes.         “I know, sweet child, I kno-” A loud crack from outside punctuated the air, the wooden shutters on the window clattered. For a heartbeat Djannar could see the fires running wild. Men were tumbling down the dean gove as the noise clarified itself as clear machination.         Djannar picked up little Jaenni, hurriedly helped her into her travelwear and ushered the tiny soul to the coal cellar. “You must get to the lawman, and give him this note.” He pushed a folded scrape of hasty notes into the young girls front pocket. “Now go.”         “But papa,” she protested, stamping her foot in protest. Her face an angry red and slick with tears.          “No. No but papa.” Djannar shook his head. Another explosion rocked the air. He could hear screaming.          Both bodies clambered out the coal chute of the house. Djannar lifted her into the dacia. He knew full well starting the car that the lawman was overrun. He just wanted to give her any chance to escape the reaving.         She got two seconds down the road when the car exploded.

[10minutestodoom-blog]

GCD of Doom #4

Goal/Conflict/Disaster of Doom. Each writer had 10 minutes to write a scene to the following prompt:

Goal: Protagonist must convince their offspring to follow a ‘set path’

Conflict: The offspring has their own plans and the protagonist is themselves conflicted about the right choice.

Disaster: ? Your choice…

GCD of Doom #4 by Craig Heap

Dag ran from the cold comfort of his air-conditioned groundcar to his house; in the three or four metre sprint he immediately broke out into a dripping sweat, his shoes kicking up clouds of dust as they scudded over what had once, in his father's time, been a lawn. The house pulled him in and he breathed in the cool air again. He found Linz in the dining room, watching a video on her pad. Dag recognised it - the video was an old masterclass session from a turn-of-the-century actor, one of Linz's favourites.  "Did you read that email I sent?" he asked as he poured himself a cap of water. His shirt was sodden. The sun glared through the window. They needed new windows already - these ones had bleached so quickly. They just weren't able to make them properly anymore. It was as if it was too hot for anyone to think.  Linz grunted sullenly.  "What? Is that a yes or a no?" Dag turned, staring at the back of his daughter's head. The head that housed such a wonderful, mathematical brain, and yet... The famous-now-dead actor talked about methods. Linz watched, silently absorbed. Then, she sighed and paused the video. "Yes, I read it, and no, I'm not doing it." Outside, the sun heated the earth just another degree. 

[10minutestodoom-blog]

GCD of Doom #3

Goal/Conflict/Disaster of Doom. Each writer had 10 minutes to write a scene to the following prompt:

Goal: Protagonist must convince their offspring to follow a ‘set path’

Conflict: The offspring has their own plans and the protagonist is themselves conflicted about the right choice.

Disaster: ? Your choice…

GCD of Doom #3 by Greg Carruthers

Anders couldn't recall where they'd landed at first, he turned and surveyed his surroundings closely, couldn't seem to keep his hands from shaking, the chronometric drone dancing on his shoulder. 

"There," Sula pointed, "Sumerian runes?" 

Anders shuddered, his lips quivered out the syllables, "We're in...Gilgamesh."

“We should read them?" She looked up at him expectantly, The longing in her eyes, the essence of life that had left him long ago. He turned away, grabbing the drone, mid step and began winding the squirming clock furiously,

"Can we dad? Did you hear me?"

"No, not now...not now...not." The gears began to unwind, the hands struck midnight.    

[10minutestodoom-blog]

GCD of Doom #2

Goal/Conflict/Disaster of Doom. Each writer had 10 minutes to write a scene to the following prompt:

Goal: Protagonist must convince their offspring to follow a ‘set path’

Conflict: The offspring has their own plans and the protagonist is themselves conflicted about the right choice.

Disaster: ? Your choice…

GCD of Doom #2 by B C Turner

‘There lad is thy empire, vast green and full of vegetables’. Thanes boasted from the upper deck of his space cruiser.  The green plants swaying in the weeds. How the wheat danced in the fields, that encompassed the planet.

‘Though will do well in intergalactic farming.’

No response from the younger boy as he was flicking on his screen and motioning things in to place with his hand held organiser.

‘Arst thou paythe attention there boyo.’

The boy looked up and shuddered at the amalgamations of languages that has been systematically abused in that sentence. He took a deep breath and gazed out. He saw green, great, a whole bloody planet of green.

Now thouh shalst have braces like me lad to hold up thy pants and have all corn to fuel system it will make you wealth.’

‘You’re broke. I will be no farmer.’ said Tyrannous. 

The father could not hide the fact the crops had been down this year and even with a vast planet to produce he would still make a deficit. 

‘You know what I am going to invest in old man, umm, what my education has told me, weapons. Here look at this one.’

A missile launched from the side of the ship and  pierced the atmosphere and explored encompassing the planets. Everything burned and all remained was  ash and death. 

‘You see there a successful test and look at the pad. I have made four trillion credits in one hour for this little planet killer, that is more than the rest of your bloodline has ever made.’

The father broke down and sobbed not only at the loss of everything sixty two generations gone. He froze and as his son left to claim his money he knew what he must do. He fired a single shot and smashed the left side of his son’s heart.

He fell to floor instantly. He could not let that proceed, a man who had devoted to life could not see it be destroyed. 

[10minutestodoom-blog]

GCD of Doom #1

Goal/Conflict/Disaster of Doom. Each writer had 10 minutes to write a scene to the following prompt:

Goal: Protagonist must convince their offspring to follow a ‘set path’

Conflict: The offspring has their own plans and the protagonist is themselves conflicted about the right choice.

Disaster: ? Your choice...

GCD of Doom #1 by Tom Hagley

“Mummy? Can I go to the—” “Absolutely fucking not.” Maris Jennine Piper slammed her rolling pin on the splintered wooden table, her whiskery cheeks glowing. “You’re staying home and learning to cook boy. How will you ever become the next Jamie Oliver?” “But mummy.” Peter’s eyes widened, his grin intense. “If you won’t let me go to the footy tournament could I go to the—” “No. Fucking. No. No. No.” Maris shivered. No son of hers was going to do sport. But she knew it wasn’t right to just push the boy into doing something she wanted. So she’d have to come to a compromise. Something neither of them wanted. She hoisted him up on the table and knocked the radio on with her rolling pin. “Well… if you won’t learn cooking, boy. Then you’ll learn to dance.” The Archers’ theme tune trilled through the air, her small, embarrassingly plump son, jiggled around on the flour-covered table.  “Did I say you could dance to the Archers? People don’t dance to fucking theme tunes Peter my boy. People will think you’re wrong in the head. And we can’t have that. Oh, no, fucking no. Boy.” Maris switched it to BB3. A blare of discordant, yet somehow classical tunes rippled out. The boy had no hope of dancing now. The perfect way to teach him a lesson for being so fat. She wandered over and began to dance in a 3/5, 7/4, 18/12 rhythm in-time with the increasing tempo. “Dance, boy. If you don’t I’ll make you cook.” Peter slipped, cracking his skull on the splintered corner of the table. Lesson learnt.