#threefifthschallenge

[floating-khoshek-floats]

3/5 challenge

Include at least three of the following five things in a story.

A candle

A hole in the ground

A being named Murphy

Late afternoon

Post its

(challenge issue courtesy of writersyoga)

The late afternoon sunlight stretched across the wide, flat earth, slow and steady as a cat. Eventually the sun would relax from its stretch and curl up beneath the horizon for the night, but for a few hours at least, Silic could rest in the soft heat. 

She’d removed the visor that assisted her by filling in structural details that her eyes could not. It wasn’t much use out here. There were no structures on the plains and the footing was so smooth that the visor couldn’t pick up foundation discrepancies. Like the hole in the ground.

It had been maybe three inches across at most, but the grasses would have obstructed it from anyone. Her visor was not to blame, though it was tempting. Particularly since the hole had caught her foot and turned her ankle. Not severely, but enough to abruptly stop for the day. 

The wind pushed across the plain, flattening the grass in sophisticated patterns and turning the large windmills scattered along the horizon. Silic closed her eyes, the wind ruffling her closely shorn hair and blowing away the dirt dusting her amber skin. She reached into her pocket. Her fingers touched the smooth, but resisting wax cylinder inside. It rolled against her skin, leaving a faint residue. She brushed her thumb over the candle’s pure wick. It wasn’t much of a hint, the candle, but it was more than she’d had. Maybe it wouldn’t lead to the answer, but it might get her another step closer.

What had happened to the names of things?  

Ta-da. My writing exercise for the day. Used a character from my  solar/cyber punk piece I’m submitting for publication soon.

[typicalsquare]

Looking at my palm, a shiver ran through my body.  Instinctively, I clenched making a fist.  The teeth, if that’s what they’re even called, of the key bit into my hand.  Closing my eyes, I took a deep shaky breath.   “That’s so not a word,” Kristen’s high pitched voice carried to the top of the stairs.  Her laugh soon followed, bringing a warmth to my chest I couldn’t place.  Her protests quickly quieted, but the familiar laugh lingered.  Madison.  Her parrot.  I’d never known someone with a pet bird, but Kris was unique.   Opening my hand, I looked at the key.  It was silver.  New.  Mine.  Although, it unlocked only a room, it was my room.  Over the past six months, this odd community I’d stumbled into—a Vietnam Vet, an environmental lawyer, a self-described Silicon Valley “drop out”, yoga instructor, a chef who looked vaguely familiar but I couldn’t place her, retired Episcopal Priest, a minor league baseball player, Kris and Tom married teachers--- had collectively built this house.  I’d entered late in the process, but that didn’t seem to bother anyone but me. We celebrated three days ago when the inspector declared the house a home.  Saliva flooded my mouth remembering the vile liquid they passed around, sipping from a glass Mason jar.  Jana, the lawyer, had contributed the moonshine.  An elderly man with little to offer had insisted she take it as payment for drawing up his will.  Wills weren’t Jana’s norm, but trust in the hills bought her many cases she never expected.   Finally, I stuck the key into the lock, an audible click opened the door.  I stepped into the room, letting the door softly close.  Dropping my knapsack on the floor, I felt dizzy.  A disconnect made familiar surroundings, walls I’d painted with my own hands seem foreign.  The smell.  Paint fumes always did this.  It made me remember the day a lifetime ago walking into that other brand new house.  My mother had opened that door with a brass key, her hands shaking, cheeks wet.  I startled as my key fell to the floor.   Crossing the room, I leaned over the bed to open the window.  Fresh, crisp air helped.  Still, the heat in my body remained.  I sat with it.  Greg, the Vet, talked open about PTSD.  He’d been in a war, though.  Knowing I carried those same four letters made me feel unworthy.  He’d saved soldiers, strangers even. Two purple hearts. I wasn’t sure I even had the heart that beat in my chest.  It had been a long time since I’d felt anything.  For a year I’d felt pain, I swore I’d never endure again.  When it stopped, real suffering filled it’s place.  I’d left the house with the brass key in the middle of the night.  Just started walking.  No matter the miles I put between myself and that lot my sister’s screams never faded.  Four months ago, I just stopped walking.  Yun, the Silicon Valley guru, had begun a conversation with me in the library.  He was normal, even though I knew he saw my arm.  It’s thick pink and purple cords were impossible to hide.   So, here we were.  Here I am.  Here I am.  

[unnamedspecialinterest]

Waking up in a cold sweat, there’s blankets tangled around limbs and memories of lights and heat flashing before widened eyes, mouth open and panting to suck in clean air. The new house has tiles and bricks, and they’re cool beneath feet that pad to the bathroom sink, the water fresh against a warm face, trying to wash old memories down the drain. There’s no further chance of sleep this night, and dawn is on its way, so the walk to the kitchen is silent. Everything is electrical - the stove, the kettle, no sign of an open flame. There’s a soft chime as the kettle boils, the teabag already awaiting the heat of the water. The back yard is bare, not yet cemented over, small pot plants here and there, separate, and not large enough to cause damage if alight. A bird lands softly on a tree next door, and it opens its beak to sing, only to be interrupted by a soft knock at the front door. There is a confused frown marring a face that moves through the house. There is no one there when the door is opened, only a small parcel on the ground. It is picked up and brought inside, placed on the marble countertop in the kitchen, opened. Inside sits a little jar, something glowing inside. It is brought up to the eyes, the other hand picking up the small note accompanying it. A small white flame flickers softly in the glass, nothing else seemingly inside, and the glass shatters as it hits the floor, one shaking hand pressed to a quivering mouth, the other bringing the note up to widening eyes. ‘you cannot escape - brick ignites as easily as wood’ Blood drains from a terrified face as crackling smoke fills the air, and everything begins to burn.

[shade-without-color]

Take good care of yourself (Inspired by Wild World by Cat Stevens)

Note: A little character moment for Valentina and Caelstra and plus I am inspired by a cover of Cat Stevens’ Wild world (x). 

Include at least three of the following five things in a story.  Can be brand new or an existing one, doesn’t matter.

Blood

A broken cup

Snow

The stars

A song

1. Use the lyrics of your favorite song as the basis for a short story.

It is maddening how can one fall in love within the mad stars,how can one can be swept over the feet- Valetina-the moon of my life-gone away with a song of the damned lovers. She does not even dare to look at me in the eye but instead,she succumb herself to the riches with Viven. She scowled at me

“A broken cup,you could never fill-and you think you are stronger than our ancestors"

She seems to kiss over Viven’s smooth face as an insult of my steadiness

“Better luck next time-to be damned walking at the stands Caelstra"

I shouted at her

“Why Valentina? Why bother breaking my heart"

“You know what I am damn tired to walk in heat and flame for you-Viven can give me a least stability with no hunger and all the fine foods"

Her heart is somehow eaten by the drowned souls-a longing for the comfort and the safety. She is so blinded by her longings of the luxurious life-masquerades,courting with noble men and dressing in the finest. Her eyes grew more shallow with disgust,over how unkempt my appearance are

“Might as well you stayed as a nun-rather than running your damned feet on a city"

Sweet Lunetta hold me,she must know that I am falling. I am descending from the sky. What I know of her,turned to a bitter song. I never shed a tear since my father descended to madness and heartbreak over the fallen city. And there I could seen Viven and Valentina walking on their ways separate.

[i-love-my-girlfriend-so-tak-blog]

The cup was shattered

The snow stained

Red with the blood

Of my life.

No! she screamed out.

Don’t leave me!

She told me

Crying.

And I opened my eyes

and saw the broken mug

Scattered among the stars

[kingarthurscat]

Enticingly covered in warm fur I couldn’t help but love you You gave me pinprick bruises And I discovered you were a cactus in disguise

- KingArthursCat (Inspired by http://writersyoga.tumblr.com/post/108799556436/the-3-5ths-challenge)

[thundertempest]

Light Bleed

She looked out the window at the darkened city. To see it completely blacked out like this was a rarity. Even in the middle of the night, the upper districts were still usually illuminated by streetlights, and holographic signs, bleeding their light into the sky. She looked upwards, and gasped.

Overhead, in all their glory, were the stars.

"They're beautiful," she whispered. Behind her, Sentinel grumbled something, and kept working at the inside wiring of a terminal. With a final curse, something mechanical clunked, and the glass that made up the window slid open.

"Come on, K. We've only got so long before the power kicks back in. I would rather not be here when it does."

K watched as Sentinel produced spike and a hammer, and proceeded to hammer the spike into the floor near the open window. Then, from the bag that he'd brought with him, he tied off a length of rope, and tossed the rest of the coil over the edge.

"You know how to rappel?" asked Sentinel. She shook her head, and Sentinel cursed.

"Right," he said, "wrap the rope around your waist. Control your speed here and here," Sentinel positioned her hands on the rope, "and don't look down."

With much coaching, she and her decker companion were soon sliding down the outside of the building. The winter air outside was cold, and K could feel the beginnings of the night's snow hitting her face. Eventually, the two landed on a snow-covered rooftop.

"Isn't corp security going to find our rope?"

"Yes," said Sentinel, untying himself and producing his pistol. "They're also going to find your body."

K turned, and found the gun pressed into her face.

"Walk to the edge, Kate. Yes, I know who you are."

Kate slipped over the snow, but eventually made it to the edge of the building. She glanced down-it was still well over twenty stories to the ground. A fall from this height would kill her, even with her augments.

"Why are you doing this?"

"You've seen my face-it's as simple as that. You really didn't think that your other team members got killed by accident, did you?"

Kate narrowed her eyes.

"It was you."

Sentinel smiled, but kept his pistol trained on Kate.

"Grand prize, you figured it out. You never wondered why nobody has ever claimed to work with me? No, the thought never crossed your mind. You were caught up in your fantasy of me being a 'Robin Hood'. Truth is, i'm not. I'm just really good at what I do."

Kate growled, and pushed forward, hoping to catch the decker off guard, but with a single jump far beyond what a normal human could do, the hacker cleared Kate's charge vertically, and shot her in the shoulder as he was coming down.

"I knew you weren't unaugmented," she smiled.

"And?" said Sentinel, "I never said I wasn't, you know. Fantasy, all of it," he muttered, retraining his pistol on Kate. Kate then caught sight of her blood, dripping from her shoulder and down onto the snow, staining it red.

"Goodbye, Kate," said Sentinel, and he fired. Kate's body slumped to the floor, Sentinel's bullet having passed straight through her skull. Her blood spread out through the snow, and Sentinel ran for the edge of the roof, and his path back to the slums as the power for the city came back online.

----

Inspired by this post

I used Blood, Snow, The stars.

[sleepyhollanovs]

Steve is always surprised by the stars in winter. They always seem just a little brighter, reflecting off the snow. The blood pooling around his feet is still warm enough to melt it, moon shining off the puddles. He knows it's time to go- he's seen a glint of the Soldier and the girl they call the Widow (he doesn't want to think about what she's done to earn that name so young) and knows they'll catch up to him if he's not careful. He gives himself another minute to admire the way the stars twinkle, teasing down the way they always have, a glint of something more before he scrapes his boots off in the snow bank and flees.