Tag Archives: Author Anne Cargile

Woo the Assassin – an ISG Writing Exercise

On 21 March 2018, these three words were chosen:

  • Disagreement
  • Phallic
  • Board

And these blurbs were written within five minutes….Enjoy!

FEATURED AUTHOR

LISA BARRY:

I couldn’t look him in the eye with my body responding in such an unprofessional manner. I was here to take a contract out on someone’s life for God’s sake, not woo the assassin. I glanced around the diner only to have my eyes land on a phallic mask that I knew had something to do with the doctors that treated people with the plague.

I quickly looked away only to hear the last of a disagreement a couple was having behind me, where verbiage about appendage size was loudly announced to the room. The man must have gotten up so quickly that his chair hit the ground. He rushed out the front door, slamming it so hard the board in the bottom half fell out. I giggled. Martin chuckled.

And everything seemed normal again.

“I need my nephew to go on vacation,” I stated. “He’s deserved it with everything he’s done for this family.” Anger boiled under my skin but when I turned back to Martin, his lip curled slightly, and the anger dissolved.

“I’ll do it on one condition,” Martin said and leaned back in his chair.

I raised my brows.

“Let me take you to dinner.”

Like Lisa on Facebook!

NICOLE DRAGONBECK:

The huge stones were arranged in a series of circles around the largest one, sitting in the center of the formation, casting a vaguely phallic shape against the darkening sky. “So, what do we have to do?” Lily asked, a nervous tremor in her voice. “We have to wait until the first star appears, and then it will lead us through the stones, into another realm,” Maria answered with infinite patience. The place had been boarded up and signs warning of imminent death or fines tried to scare would-be trespassers away. Maria ducked under one such, but Lily remained outside, shifting her weight from one foot to the next. Maria sighed. She couldn’t believe they were still having this disagreement, and when they were so close. “Look, do you want to find out what happened to Billy and the others or not?” she called out, all patience gone from her tone. “Yes, but,” Lily faltered. “Look, we don’t have time for this,” Maria called back as she stood and looked up at the sky. “I’m going to look for them. You can come if you want, or not.” She found the first faint glimmer of a star, and followed it into the dark, disappearing from view. “Maria?” Lily called, more agitated than ever. “Maria?” When Lily ducked under the forbidding sign, she looked up to find a million stars glittering in the sky and no trace of her friend.

h under her chin.

Like Nicole on Facebook!

 

ERIKA LANCE:

This is not happening she muttered to herself as she opened her book to page 384. She scanned it quickly and only saw a phallic symbol in the middle of the page. She looked closer, it was actually an oil rig and not a …. Never mind she thought.

“Give me your book” she said as she reached for it. His face shifted ever so slightly in disagreement to her request and then he handed it too her.

She looked at the page and sure enough it was about a great sugar plague.

“What the hell….” She said under her breath as she began to flip the pages. There was page after page of history as written by Saturday morning cartoons.

As she looked though several more pages she looked up again to find that her ‘partner’ had pulled out a piece of poster board to begin the project.

“Where did you get this book?” She asked. It, by all appearances seemed as real as hers. “Prof. Dumbledore” he replied smiling as if this answered any further questions she had.

“I give up” she said as she sat back down in defeat.

Like Erika on Facebook

DESIREE MATLOCK:

Jack and I were out here in front of the college trying to collect signatures to save the endangered southern warbler from encroachment, and there was a small gang of coeds surrounding him waggling fingers. It looked like the disagreement was getting out of hand.

I could see I needed to intervene.

“What’s going on here, Jack?” The man was clutching his clip board close, looking like he was trying to turn beige and sink into the bricks behind him.

“This MAN was trying to coerce us into signing a petition and waved his phallic symbol in front of our faces yelling about what we needed to do,” said one of the ladies.

“Do you mean… his pen?” I asked, surprised. I spotted the same T-shirt on all the women. It said “GIRLS JUST WANT TO HAVE FUNDAMENTAL RIGHTS”.

“So typical of the patriarchy to just order us to do things. We don’t need your commands, MAN,” another one of the girls said, and everyone nodded. They obviously meant “man” as an insult.

“Well, here’s mine. Want to look?” Apparently my phallus, I mean pen, was okay, and the ladies signed and left.

“Sorry Jack, tomorrow we’ll go back to standing in front of the Target store.”

www.DesisTwoCents.com

JM PAQUETTE:

Jeremy followed behind her, unable to break her hold on his hand, glancing behind at the girl with a look of woe that would have torn her heart if she hadn’t spent more than half of her life listening to him whine and complain. No, not complain, she corrected herself. She recalled the lengthy diatribe she’d received when she told him that–apparently, to complain meant to write love poetry back in the Middle Ages, a fact that Sara found hilarious, but Jeremy was definitely not writing love poetry in her honor. He’d worn himself out over the centuries writing love ballads about his beloved anchoress, trapped behind her walls of stone, wrongly persecuted for a crime she was of course completely innocent of, a minor disagreement with the Church that ended with her judged to die in solitude for some no doubt phallic-inspired sin that Sara didn’t even recognize or care about.

She was really tired of listening to Jeremy’s lectures, of the way he bemoaned his past, the way he judged her every move. She paused. What was she doing? She could let him go back inside, leave him to the teenage witch, and be done with him.

Maybe this was what she was supposed to do all along. Maybe her trial was over, her long journey to the end reached, her score on the tally board of destiny even. She looked down at their linked hands, then back up at the wistful expression on the old ghost’s face.

She stopped walking in the parking lot. “Jeremy?” she began. “Do you…” She let the words trail off. Was she willing to let him go? She thought of the girl inside, so young, so eager, so…absolutely unequipped to deal with a spirit of Jeremy’s caliber. What was she thinking to cast off her burden to another so clearly unprepared for the job? This was probably why she had been cursed with the ghost in the first place. She was unworthy, unable to follow through to the end. She stared at him, perplexed as always when she wandered down this path. Jeremy knew the reason why, but he would never tell her.

Like JM on Facebook!

 

BRANDON SCOTT:

Some disagreements are sensible, and some are not. However, there is a third category of this that some might not consider or validate as such: and that is the ones that are so odd and out of the realm of normal conversation that they enter perhaps a different phase of human understanding.

This disagreement, held while shopping for a new board, a headboard for a bed specifically, was of that last section.

“I swear to you, on my mother’s grave, that man’s head was so phallic is represented the patriarchy.”

“You mean phallic symbols do?”

“No.” He shook his head. “No. His head, his head of all heads, specifically, represents men’s hold on this world.”

She stared at him for a moment, pondering this: considering this. Wondering as to what might have been going on for this baffling man. Then, with a deep sigh beforehand, she asked the only question that seemed obvious to her to ask. “Are you drunk?”

He did a double take and even looked a tad offended. “Umm, no? I think that man’s head is the avatar of sexism.”

“I want a divorce,” she replied immediately.

Like Brandon on Facebook!

Kalvin

~Like ISG  on Facebook! 

~Follow us on Twitter!

Advertisements

Leave a comment

Filed under Creative Writing, Writers Group, Writing, Writing Exercise

A Figure Came into Sight – an ISG Writing Exercise

On 7 March 2018, these three words were chosen:

  • Hoodie
  • Green
  • Sight

And these blurbs were written within five minutes….Enjoy!

FEATURED AUTHOR

NICOLE DRAGONBECK:

A figure came into sight over the crest of the hill, a green hoodie obscuring their features. Berryl waited, leaning against the tree and taking small sips from the waterskin, waiting for the stranger to come to her. When the person got closer, she raised her hand in greeting, but the figure did not return the gesture, and simply continued down the road at a fast clip. Berryl blinked, her hand still in the air, and then hastily lowered it. She had been on this road for two weeks, and had encountered three people coming from the opposite direction before this fellow. They had been amiable enough travelers, and had stopped to talk and give news of the road conditions ahead. One had even offered her an apple they had pilfered from an orchard several days ahead. Berryl shrugged, picked up her pack, and set off down the road. She crested the hill the stranger had just come over, and surveyed the land on the other side, which looked much like the land she had just traversed, farmland interspersed with woodland. In the distance, a faint smudge suggested a larger forest, or perhaps mountains. Just as she proceeded to take her next step, a knife came from behind, and pressed against the tender flesh under her chin.

Like Nicole on Facebook!

LISA BARRY:

When I walked in the room the first thing that was not quite right was the grey hoodie thrown over the living room chair. As I continued toward the back of the house, the second thing to make me frown was the green… well it looked like hair. The hoodie wasn’t mine, but it could have been the cleaner’s who had come earlier or even the meal prep chef who hopefully had left the next week worth of meals in my freezer but the hair? Fuzzy blobs of green continued to greet my sight as I made my way into the kitchen. There was a ridiculous amount of on the floor near the sink and more leading to the back door.

Curiosity had me stop and check the freezer. Yep! Yummy meals for the week. I walked to the back door and flung it open looking out into the shadowed yard, the sun almost set. I heard a low growl and turned in time to see pale white skin with weird blotches of green fur and teeth. Very large teeth. A blur lunged at me and as it tore into my throat I could only think of one thing.

I’m not getting to eat those yummy meals.

Like Lisa on Facebook!

ANNE CARGILE:

“Well what do you think?” Mickey asked as he turned and showed off his new hoodie.

“I think you look ridiculous boyo. That green clashes badly with your red hair,” I replied, unimpressed.

“Oh come on, I thought it was quite dapper!” Mickey made a sad face, and started playing with his collar, adjusting the hood. It made him look like a twitchy green and red hunchback.

I harrumped and shook my head. Damn kids. “I don’t know what happened with ya kid, but as a leprechaun you’re a sad sight for sure. What are ya trying to do? Scare the wee ones from ever coming out?” I could tell I was upset by the length of my brogue. I may have lived in the new lands for a few hundred years, but the mother country never really leaves one.

I sighed. St Patrick’s Day was a blessed day, and one of the few days leprechauns could come out in the open without fear. My job was to teach the youngsters, and make sure no one got caught. As a breed we’re a greedy bunch, and any pot of gold one of my charges lost, I’d have to replace.

I looked at Mickey again. “I guess you could pass for a daft college boy,” I said.

Like Anne on Facebook!

 

DALIA LANCE:

She flicked more cupcake off of her and although the towel was now covered she was still a sight.

“Explain what happened?” I asked trying to gather up all of the make-up wipes she had cast off. The alley didn’t need cleaning I just needed to do something so I wasn’t staring as she finally dropped the tablecloth to skirt level and pulled on my green hoodie I handed her.

“I wanted to surprise Steve as you know” I nodded as I could tell she was getting worked up now and just let her continue “and it turns out when I asked him what he wanted he said what he had really wanted was for me to meet his ‘book club’ which seemed weird, so instead of the awesome plan I had set-up I went over to his house.” I nodded again realizing she was waiting for encouragement.

“Turns out there isn’t books he meets once a month with a bunch of guys that like to watch girls sit on cakes and smash bakery items on themselves.” I pursed my lips so I wouldn’t laugh. I wanted to ask how she had agreed to such a thing along with about fifty other questions but all I could ask was “So did he have a good birthday?”

Like Dalia on Facebook!

JM PAQUETTE:

“I shouldn’t even be here,” I moaned an hour later, my arm numb and about to fall off, useless weapon landing in the dirt that was soon going to be drenched with my blood. “They weren’t even looking for me.” I glared at him, at his long, lanky body, at arms that had clearly seen some training, at those feet that knew exactly which way to step. “This is all your fault.”

“My fault?” he echoed, bending to pick up the flail and shove it back into my useless fingers. I used my other hand to hold it in place, knowing that all of this was useless. “I wasn’t the one who started shouting at the guards.”

I sniffed, looking away from his accusing green eyes, trying to ignore the sight of a slightly flushed sweaty elf standing less than a foot away from me. He was, after all, the elf that was going to kill me soon. It was just like that old gypsy woman said. “I wasn’t shouting at them. I was trying to find out what they wanted.”

He shrugged. “Don’t you know that guards never actually find what they set out looking for? They just find the next person who gives them any crap and lug them down to the stadium for some good times with Cyrus.” He gave me a once over, similar to the one he’d given me when we’d met at the bar last night, though with a different objective in mind.

“You’re pretty enough,” he commented. “I’m surprised you ended up in here. I figured you’d end up with him.”

I pulled my arms close around my body, barely ignoring the urge to pull up my hoodie and cover myself. But my arms didn’t work anymore, and I was sweating from all the movement.

He thinks I’m pretty, my mind yammered at me. Of course, now I’m going to die.

Like JM on Facebook!

ALANNA J. RUBIN

“Joe, are you sure you feel okay? You’re looking really green.” Joe pulled his hoodie tightly around him and nodded, afraid that speaking would break his concentration on keeping the contents of his stomach inside his body. He hated boats, but wanted to impress Rebecca by showing her the sights.

Like Alanna on Facebook!

BRANDON SCOTT:

Coming Soon!

Like Brandon on Facebook!

~Like ISG  on Facebook! 

~Follow us on Twitter!

Leave a comment

Filed under Creative Writing, Writers Group, Writing, Writing Exercise

Are We a Coterie? – an ISG Writing Exercise

On 7 March 2018, these three words were chosen:

  • Flail
  • Rushed
  • Coterie (an intimate and often exclusive group of persons with a unifying common interest or person (sense of negativity as the group excludes others))

And these blurbs were written within five minutes….Enjoy!

FEATURED AUTHOR

ANNE CARGILE:

“So are we a coterie or not?” Sandy asked.

Debbie glanced at her friend, her arm mid swing with the flail. “I don’t know. I hadn’t really thought about it. What does that even mean? Can you look it up?”

“Sure,” Sandy said as she pulled out her iPhone, her fingers flying over the mini keyboard.

The flail finished its swing and the scream echoed across the cavern. Sandy’s eyes darted to the sacrifice, then back to the glowing screen in front of her.

“Damnit , the cell service really sucks down here,” she whined. “We should pay for wi-fi.”

Debbie nodded in agreement as she eyed her victim critically. She hated to be rushed in these things. “So what does it say?”

“Oh. Sorry got distracted checking my snaps. Um, like, we’re an exclusive group or club with common interests it says.”

“Yeah, I guess we are then,” Debbie said as she laid another stripe down the man’s back. She grinned as the cavern filled with another round of echoes.

Like Anne on Facebook!

LISA BARRY:

Christina’s arms flailed as she started to fall, the light moss on the ground deceptively slippery. Reno rushed to grab her but he too hit the moss and fell with her. Her turned as they went down, landing heavily on his back, Christina’s only damage ended up being her pride as she lay on top of him haphazardly. She scrambled from his grasp despite the strong pull to stay there. Reno stood and brushed himself off.

“Thank you,” Christina whispered, the sky was getting darker and despite her urges, she had to stop even thinking about Reno in any way especially that way. Mardella, the head of her coterie was betrothed to the man, since she was child they say. It broke Christina’s heart. A quick glance at Reno’s blushing face and she thought it might break his as well.

They rushed toward the distant fire burning in the clearing ahead.

Like Lisa on Facebook!

NICOLE DRAGONBECK:

“You can’t excommunicate me, I founded this Coven!” Tera screamed at the robed figures condemning her from their high perches behind the half-moon table. Tall figures were suddenly on either side of her, grabbing her arms and rushing her out of the old cathedral, as she flailed and screeched. The sounds of her displeasure echoed long after she had been removed, and only when they had died down did the members at the table remove their hoods, casting uneasy glances at each other. Redd watched them with a carefully neutral expression. No one was certain about what they had done. As Tera had pointed out, she had formed the group, but under her tyrannical guidance, the Coven had become more of a coterie, and when Witches and Wizards who disagreed with her methods and beliefs started disappearing, and then turning up dead, it was determined that her influence was most likely at fault, and it had to end. “She won’t stop,” Treven, a nervous looking Wizard at the far end of the table said. “This will just make her angrier.” “Our laws won’t allow for anything more,” Nell answered briskly, pushing her glasses up her nose. “We have people watching her. She won’t cause any further trouble.”

Like Nicole on Facebook!

DALIA LANCE:

“Send me the address” I said trying not to giggle too hard. I could tell she was distressed and I didn’t want her flailing around spraying the cupcake all over the alley. That could be dangerous. I laughed at that thought as I rushed out the door ordering the Uber on the way.

She wasn’t far it turned out. In less then ten minutes I was able to get to the building and find the alley “Chrissie?” I tentatively asked, hoping she would reply.

She walked out and she was in fact covered head to toe in cupcake matter. “Ummm… What?” I didn’t get my question out before she was sobbing “It was terrible!”

I wasn’t sure what ‘it’ was, but again before I could form the right question to ask she blurted out “It was a coterie of cupcake smashers.” She was pulling frosting full of glittery sprinkles from her hair. I handed her the bag I brought with make-up wipes and towel and asked “Cupcake what?”

Like Dalia on Facebook!

JM PAQUETTE:

He stared at the weapon in my hand, eyes squinting. “Did you honestly just pick up a flail?”

I shrugged, trying to look as though I used weapons like this all the time. “Yeah. So what?” I asked. When he didn’t reply, I added, “You said to get a weapon. I pick this one.”

“Bloody farmer. There’s no need to be so rushed,” he told me. “You can take a moment, think things over. We have all afternoon to do this.”

I ignored the insult and looked around at the empty amphitheatre, at the rows and rows of seats that would be filled in a few hours, patrons eager to see the newest death match in Cyrus’s games. We’d gotten a lot of advertising for this one. I’d heard the slaves chattering about it when I first woke up in the cell beneath the stadium this morning, the coterie unwilling to share any more with an outsider like me. “I think we should probably figure out what we’re going to do sooner than that.” I gestured at him with the flail. “This will look good, no? Give them something to ooh and aah about? That’s what Cyrus wants anyway.”

I moved the handle from my right to my left hand, weighing it, deciding if I would be able to do anything at all with it when the time came. It definitely had potential to inflict damage. He shook his head, choosing an axe from the weapon stand and taking slow steps toward me. “Tell me you’ve had some training,” he muttered.

I held the flail up, hoping I had the right side pointed at him, the end swaying gently as I breathed. “I’ve had some training?” I replied.

“We’re both going to die,” he said, taking a deep breath.

“We’re in the games,” I told him. “That’s the general idea.”

Like JM on Facebook!

ALANNA J. RUBIN

Jax looked around the coterie of warlocks who were now gathered in a circle. In its center lay two candles nearly burned down to nothing, the scalding wax having spread across the pentagram that was etched into the floor. Rising from the center was a shadow that seemed to flail as if in pain, its arms and legs contorting into abnormal and frightening positions. Some members of the group rushed away frightened by what they had summoned. Others stared on, entranced by the macabre dance, but their eyes widened in horror as the translucent figure became solid.

Like Alanna on Facebook!

BRANDON SCOTT:

coming soon

Like Brandon on Facebook!

~Like ISG  on Facebook! 

~Follow us on Twitter!

Leave a comment

Filed under Creative Writing, Writers Group, Writing, Writing Exercise

I Wouldn’t Eat That – an ISG Writing Exercise

On 7 March 2018, these three words were chosen:

  • Saturate
  • Cupcake
  • Alley

And these blurbs were written within five minutes….Enjoy!

FEATURED AUTHOR

JM PAQUETTE:

“I wouldn’t eat that if I were you,” Lily said, pointing meaningfully at the cupcake in Ella’s hand. Ella looked at her friend across a luscious layer of chocolate frosting.

“Why do you say that?” She considered the wonderful treat in her hand, seeing the lush browns of all those different chocolates overlapping, imaging the taste thick on her tongue, saturating her senses and overwhelming her restraint. “It looks heavenly. I bet it tastes even better.”

Lily grabbed her hand and pushed it away from her mouth. Ella held on to the cupcake, unwilling to part with it quite yet. The paper wrapping was smooth against her fingers, but she wasn’t going to drop it on the ground. She could wait. Waiting just made it taste better in the end. Eventually, Lily would forget about it.

“You are hopeless!” her friend chided, not forgetting soon enough. “Seriously, if some old lady in a back alley gave you a shiny red apple, I swear you would eat it!”

Ella shrugged. “And what of it?”

“Don’t you listen to anything?” Lily nagged. “You know what happened to Cinderella!”

“That was Snow White,” Ella corrected, “and from what I recall, she married a prince.” She looked back at the cupcake. “I’ll take those odds.”

Like JM on Facebook!

LISA BARRY:

The alley seemed particularly dark today, but Sheila took the shortcut anyway. It was the one place between downtown and her shared apartment where she could inhale the cupcake saturated with peanut butter cups and not be either deluged with requests for a bite or deal with comments about her weight. Yes, she was a little plump but not ridiculously so. And she only went to the bakery once a week when they had her favorite.

Sheila stopped midway and reached into the bag. Before she took out the sweet treat, a man turned the corner heading in her direction. A long dark cloak flowed behind him as his long stride had him closer than she was comfortable. One glance at his face and she stopped. It wasn’t the cold hard stare of a predator, at least not to her. He was beauty personified and suddenly she was much more interested in him than in her cupcake.

Like Lisa on Facebook!

ANNE CARGILE:

Hera stared at the mess splattered across the alley and shook her head as her partner carefully avoided stepping in a pile of chocolate goo.

“What the hell happened here Sanders?” she asked, her voice strange. The sugar content in the air was making it hard to breathe.

“A pissed off Baker? How the hell should I know?” he replied, pulling out a handkerchief and carefully wiping the side of his black oxford.

A soft groan came from further down, past the dumpster. Tip toeing carefully past the dripping metal canister saturated with frosting, Hera found a girl lying prone across a platter of tarts and cupcakes.

Like Anne on Facebook!

NICOLE DRAGONBECK:

Telly went up on the roof, carrying all her spell ingredients in the ancient cauldron that her great-great-grandmother had brought over from the old world. The second full moon of the month was bright, wrapped in a sliver halo that drowned out the closest stars. Telly took the old tome off the the top of the pile and flipped to the page of the spell. After emptying the cauldron, she lit a small fire, and proceeded with the steps. Noises drifted up from the alleys on either side of the apartment building, but she was lost in concentration, hurrying to get everything ready before the moon reached its peak. The potion was soon simmering gently, infusing the air with the smell of cupcakes as it seeped and was saturated with blue moonlight. Clouds began to drift in sometime before midnight, and Telly watched them with growing concern. Rain wouldn’t hurt the potion, but the moonlight was critical. Lightning flashed in the dark clouds that were slowly eating the stars, faint grumbles of thunder heralding something worse, and when the first fingers of darkness grabbed the edge of the golden moon, Telly saw with horror that the potion was changing before her eyes.

Like Nicole on Facebook!

DALIA LANCE:

“What do you mean you are hiding in the alley?” I wasn’t sure if I should be more concerned about the location or the fact that it was humorous that she was not in her apartment, safe and sound as she should be doing the event she had planned for months.

“Yes! I am hiding in the frickin alley around the corner from Steve’s apartment!” Chrissie said this all in a very loud whisper. So loud in fact that it was almost screaming.

“So you need me to come get you?” I wondered why this would be the option she chose. Then I asked the obvious “Can’t you just grab a cab or an Uber?” we live in the technology age, getting out of any situation was a matter of a few clicks in a app.

There was a sort of whine from her and then “I don’t think an Uber would pick me up” she sighed heavily. “Every part of me is saturated in cupcake and I am wrapped in a table cloth from Steve’s apartment. Please just come get me.”

Like Dalia on Facebook!

ALANNA J. RUBIN

The alley was dark, not even the moon was out to cast the slightest sliver of light, but that didn’t deter Mike from his path. He headed straight down, while shoving a cupcake, saturated with chocolate ganache, into his mouth then loudly licked his fingers. As he was approaching the end, he was startled by a noise coming from behind one of the metal trash cans. He stopped short, his sugar rush turning into adrenaline as a cloaked figure stepped out from behind. Mike was too nervous to realize, it would have been impossible for a human that large to have been concealed by it.

Like Alanna on Facebook!

BRANDON SCOTT:

Coming Soon!

Like Brandon on Facebook!

~Like ISG  on Facebook! 

~Follow us on Twitter!

Leave a comment

Filed under Creative Writing, Writers Group, Writing, Writing Exercise

Covered With What? – an ISG Writing Exercise

On 17 January 2018, these three words were chosen:

  • Rash
  • Wax
  • Phone

And these blurbs were written within five minutes….Enjoy!

FEATURED AUTHOR

ANNE CARGILE:

“Are you kidding me?” she screamed over the phone. “I thought you said this place was legit!”

“What do you mean?” I asked. “I’ve been going there for years.” I twirled the cord in my hand, wondering how bad it had been. Whatever, I thought, she deserved it.

“You told me they did the best Brazilian wax in the state!” Amber screeched.

“They do,” I replied mildly.

“Then what is happening? I’m covered!”

“Covered with what?”  I pulled out a treat for my cat, Numbz, short for Numbnuts. A private joke with the vet. Numbz liked the duck jerky, and who was I to deny him?

“This rash”, Amber gasped. I heard something that sounded suspiciously like scratching, and taking the cue, scratched Numbz’s ears, much to his delight. His purr sounded like a freight train and I grinned.

“Oh dear,” I said. “I have no idea how that could have happened. I’ve never had any issue myself.”

“I have a date tonight with Brad!” she screamed.

“Oh, was that tonight?”  I smiled at Numbz. “I had totally forgotten.”

Like Anne on Facebook!

LISA BARRY:

Donna’s rash words still hurt as Sam sat on the couch and stared at the phone blinking full of messages on his side table. It had been less than a day but last night’s fight had impinged. If she thought that was going to steer him away from his goal, she was not the women for him. The shrill ring of his phone echoed throughout his half-packed apartment. Funnily enough, Donna’s scolding had only made the burn to leave the city that much brighter. A situation he couldn’t refuse. To go to a place that Donna had vowed never to return. His father has passed. His brother was missing. He was the only one left to take over the clan. He felt the pull like a magnet to steel. He had to go. It was his legacy, his duty. He was the strongest left of the lionweres and he would make a difference. Donna could not ever change that. He picked up the phone and waxed enthusiasm.

“Hello, Mother.”

Like Lisa on Facebook!

DALIA LANCE:

Shelly looked back to her cabana “I think that is my phone, excuse me” she turned and walked away not waiting for a reply.

She moved into her bedroom and released a sigh. She would have to figure out how to avoid him for the next week.

“Phones don’t work on the island” he was standing behind her. He wasn’t quite past the line where her patio ended and bedroom began but she felt invaded.

She looked around as if trying to find the noise she made up coming from something else “My mistake, I wonder what that was.”

He then crossed the threshold “Do you want me to help you look?” he asked and without a moment of hesitation she yelped “NO!” then a breath “No I am good. I think I will just take a nap”. A look of disappointment crossed his face as he turned to leave.

“Make sure you take the wax off of the fruit before you eat it.” He said as he was leaving.

“What?” she replied without thinking.

He turned back again “The wax on the fruit, it will cause a rash” and with that he turned and left.

Now she was confused, worried, annoyed and nauseous. She should have stayed at home for all of this.

Like Dalia on Facebook!

DESIREE MATLOCK:

Cathy’d been on the phone with the European Wax Center for twenty minutes already, getting passed from person to person. She’d been told to hold for the manager, and when the sultry smooth silky voice of the manager came on the line, and called itself, “Shiloh” she knew she’d reached the top of the line. Shiloh was a name reserved for Salon managers or hippies.

“How may I help you?” purred Shiloh.

“Um, did anyone already talk to you about my issue?”

“Please let’s begin fresh. Tell me how I can help you?”

Great. Nobody had bothered to explain to the next person why she’d called out of four people so far, so she’d had to re-tell the story, smack in the middle of her office, and by this time, she felt like maybe she’d need to raise her voice so that people more than two cubicles away could listen in better.

“Okay, so am I really definitely talking to the person in charge?”

“M-hm,” Shiloh intoned in a voice so soporific and calming that she almost forgot why she was calling. New age music whistled and bonged in the background at the wax center where she was calling, occasionally slipping past that voice.

“Fine. So I got waxed yesterday, and today I woke with a huge rash over the entire area.”

“What area might that be?” Cathy sighed.

“The private one,” she hissed. A giggle snort erupted from the cubicle to her South. Benjamin wasn’t even pretending not to be amused anymore.

“What private area?”

“How many do you have, lady? Let’s just call it the one so many Brazilians have.”

www.DesisTwoCents.com

JM PAQUETTE:

Angela stared at the burning candle, mouth twisting in concentration as the wax perched on the edge, seemingly defying gravity as it refused to spill down the side of the tall candlestick. “But…” she began, but the words trailed off. She looked from the candle to the beaker in front of her. More concentration, this time with her eyebrows joining the massive party of confusion across her face. “How…”

Arthur waited another long moment, seeing if she would articulate her issue, but her face was just too much, and he spoke, unable to keep the rash words inside, almost immediately cursing himself for the outburst. “What is it, Miss Price?”

Her face twisted even more, painfully at a loss, and sympathy suddenly overwhelmed his annoyance. “What?” he prompted, more gently this time. He had to remember that it was hard for first-timers. The stress of these tests was horrendous. He remembered those days. He should be kinder.

“It’s just…” again with the pathetic face, “how…how can I get the wax into the beaker?”

He stared at her for a long moment, wondering if he had heard correctly.

“I mean, it won’t even roll down the candle, so how do I get it into my potion like that?”

With a long-suffering sigh, he reached out and picked up the candlestick, tilting it so the wax ran freely off the side.

Like JM on Facebook!

 

BRANDON SCOTT:

The man on the swing chuckled and pushed away his oversized bangs. “They always do that, sorry if it made you nervous.”

She did not know what to say to him. When she’d signed up for the island’s program, she’d obviously know what it entailed—but that did not mean she really had a grasp on what was okay and what was normal in this place. She’d seen an awful lot of candles, thick golden wax candles, just lying around in a room marked first come, first served earlier.

“So…uh…” she trailed off and took a nervous step closer.

“Yeah, I know—it’s awkward. Just sit here, I don’t have a rash or anything.”

She did, after a few wobbling steps. He gave her a small smile, and then pulled out his phone. She did not know why, but she could not stop noticing how veiny his hands were.

The man flicked through a few things on his phone, before her own image sat there, smiling. She hated that look on her, but when they asked for a picture of her from the last five months, it was the only one she’d bothered to take—data limits sucked.

“So, then, your name is Sasha?” he asked.

“Yeah …”

“Well, Sasha, apparently you and I are potential true loves.”

Like Brandon on Facebook!

 

~Like ISG  on Facebook! 

~Follow us on Twitter!

Leave a comment

Filed under Creative Writing, Writers Group, Writing, Writing Exercise

Catching a Unicorn – an ISG Writing Exercise

On 15 November 2017, these three words were chosen:

  • Derail
  • Reflection
  • Sugar

And these blurbs were written within five minutes….Enjoy!

FEATURED AUTHOR

ANNE CARGILE

“You know, this plan isn’t very good,” Shane said. “Everything I’ve read about catching a unicorn has to do with a virgin or something. I’ve never heard of using sugar.”

Janice sighed and rolled her eyes. “Just stay close and do what I say, ok? I’ve read the instructions a thousand times. Since we don’t have a virgin…”

“No kidding,” Shane muttered.

“Shut up. Since we don’t have a virgin, the idea is to entice them with the sugar and then catch them in their reflection.”

“Um, ok, not to derail your wonderful plan, but what exactly will they be reflected in?”

“We know the unicorns come at dawn to butterfly pond, right? So we can spell the water, and when it goes to take a drink…”

“Gotcha!” they said in unison.

Shane grinned. “Lead the way.”

Like Anne on Facebook!

LISA BARRY:

My plans were derailed when the sugar factory sent me the pink slip. Seven years I had slaved in the sales room and gotten some of the biggest contracts they had. They fire me because Nick Saint wouldn’t give me the contract. Well screw them. He was the smartest man I knew and seeing his reflection in the mirror behind me after a wild Friday night was worth every penny that I wouldn’t get this week. I sat on the edge of my bed and sighed. Now what? I wondered. A call flashed on my phone. I debated ignoring it as per usual but I needed a distraction from my current poor existence.

“Yes?’ I said into the phone, my voice still a little deep from my amazing weekend.

“How would you like to visit the South Pole?” a low voice said. My back went pole straight and my nerves flashed with energy.

“Mr. Saint? I can’t think of anything else I’d like to be doing right now.”

Like Lisa on Facebook!

NICOLE DRAGONBECK:

Everything was in place to derail the king’s coronation. The street urchins had been payed to tip the barrels of oil over the procession. The sharpshooter with the flaming arrows was positioned on the corner of the highest roof of the square, his arrow coated in black to dull the sun’s reflection on the metal.

“What do you mean, the coronation has been called off?” the sulky lord shouted. “They can’t call it off!”

“I’m afraid they can, and they have,” the elderly advisor said without sympathy. “It’s raining. They cannot hold a party in the rain.”

“When will they reschedule?” the lord asked. “They did not see fit to give that information to me,” the advisor said, only now the slightest signs of strain seeping through his carefully controlled demeanor.

“Well, then, find out!” the lord said, throwing himself across the feather bed pouting. “First bring me some mulled apple cider. With sugar!” he added in an imperious tone at the retreating back of the old man. The advisor closed the door to the lord’s chamber, and only now did his impassive face melt into a disgruntled scowl.

“Perhaps someone should plan your assassination, you spoiled little brat,” he muttered to himself, before he walked off to get the tea.

Like Nicole on Facebook!

DESIREE MATLOCK:

The reflection of the sugar glider in the lake was almost maybe starting to calm me… I hadn’t had time for a walk in over three days, what with my sister Carmen’s visit derailing every tiny detail of my usually impeccably methodical routine.

Firstly, booking a flight that arrived so late that she ended up on the last train out and got here to the end of the line at 3:20 AM. Neither early enough to require waking up early, nor late enough to conveniently allow for staying up a little. There literally couldn’t have been a worse time to need to be picked up.

I’d suggested Uber, but she’d never heard of it. Lyft either. And of course didn’t trust cabbies. She didn’t care about my fitbit circle, or my various yoga meetups. She still lived in the dark ages from before all these apps around which I’d built my life.

And it turns out she’d brought her dog with her, which on paper was a support animal, but in reality, my couch could barely support the damn thing. So here I was, distractedly forgetting to do my breathing exercises, alone at the park, just taking a fucking break from Carmen. Which didn’t move my fitbit count up one tiny bit, but I was too exhausted to care.

As I sighed, chilling out just looking at the glistening ripples of the lake, the sugar glider swooped by, depositing a little offwhite wet crap on my lap. Yup, that pretty much topped off the week.

www.DesisTwoCents.com

JM PAQUETTE:

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Jasmine said, downing another shot and putting her hand on Rebecca’s shoulder. She grabbed the next glass on the bar and downed it as well, coughing a little as she turned to face her friend. “Not a word,” she declared.

“Ok,” Rebecca agreed, ever the supportive friend, but her face was red with suppressed emotion, either horror or hilarity, Jasmine couldn’t tell, and she was starting to think it was a little bit of both.

“I mean it!” Jasmine insisted, turning to face her friend as the whiskey burned through her. “Not. A. Word.”

Rebecca mimed a lock and key in front her lips and sat perfectly still, the red in her face growing deeper with each passing second.

“I don’t ever want you to mention this again!” Jasmine snapped.

“Mention what?” Rebecca asked, turning away to face the bar, carefully not looking at her friend, suddenly very interested in her own reflection in the mirror behind the bar.

“Was it…” Jasmine let the words trail off. She grabbed the third shot, downed it, and faced her friend again. “Was it really that awful?”

“Do you want the truth or do you want me to sugar coat it?”

“Just hit me with it.”

“It was more than that awful. So much more. You certainly know how to derail a discussion, Jaz.”

Jasmine winced. “I know. It was terrible. I don’t know what came over me.”

Rebecca smirked, “Well, there are worse things in the world. Nothing comes to mind at present, of course, but I’m sure they exist.” She pondered. “Famine. Pestilence. War…”

“Ok,” Jasmine told her. “That’s enough hard hitting truth.”

“Are you kidding?” Rebecca asked. “That was sugar coated.”

Like JM on Facebook!

ALANNA J. RUBIN

“Oh sugar,” Cali exclaimed.

“Really?” Max replied. “You can actually swear you know. It’s not going to be a poor reflection of your character.”

Cali shrugged. “I just didn’t feel like saying it. Sometimes swearing derails my train of thought, but now considering this ridiculous conversation, I should have just gone for it.” Cali’s voice rose in tenor, the way it normally did when she was aggravated. “Now, where was I?” She asked no one. “Right,” she said answering herself, focusing back on the shovel in her hand and continued to move the dirt off the top of the coffin.

Like Alanna on Facebook!

BRANDON SCOTT

Coming soon!

Like Brandon on Facebook!

 

~Like ISG  on Facebook! 

~Follow us on Twitter!

Leave a comment

Filed under Creative Writing, Writers Group, Writing, Writing Exercise

All That Scotch – an ISG Writing Exercise

On 15 November 2017, these three words were chosen:

  • Poison
  • Top
  • Satisfy

And these blurbs were written within five minutes….Enjoy!

FEATURED AUTHOR

DESIREE MATLOCK:

I had no idea how much of this I was supposed to use. I’d heard that cardamon was a poison in high levels, but not enough and the pie might just taste like pumpkin mush… so there was that.

If I could somehow walk that fine line between mum’s dissatisfied narrow eyes face from poorly baked pies and mum’s dissatisfied narrow eyes face from sending uncle Pete to the hospital, maybe my stress levels would come back down before Christmas.

Maybe the internet could help. Or maybe I should just stick to the recipe for once, like I’d planned to from the top. But… I was never any good that that. I’m naturally impulsive. It works out great in the bedroom and the board room but it definitely is a mixed bag of issues in the kitchen. Sometimes, once in a blue moon, I could make something amazing happen.

Doubt it would affect mum’s face either way, but I was determined that if I was hosting the entire Thanksgiving spectacle this year, the cardamon levels of my pumpkin pie were going to be perfectly in balance with all that scotch I already added. Uncle Pete loves Scotch. I smiled and poured in what seemed right.

www.DesisTwoCents.com

LISA BARRY:

“What is this?” I asked, holding up the clear bottle of blue fluid.

“It’s the poison you asked for,” Tig answered without glancing up from the letter he was scribing. He frowned.

“This is not what I asked for,” I snarled. Tig looked up in alarm, his mouth gaping like a fish.

“What I asked for should be a greenish brown color, with a layer of gold on the top.”

His mouth moved slightly, no words coming out. The alarm in his eyes was growing. He grabbed his throat and I could tell he was trying really hard to pull air into lungs that I had blocked with a stray piece of magic. That’s how easy it was for me. I didn’t really need poison, but it would lay the blame elsewhere since everyone knew I would never stoop so low. I smiled at Tig. His eyes were just starting the satisfying roll into the back of his head when I pulled the magic back and let it seep back into the air. He fell onto the table, gasping and moaning.

“Just get me the right stuff, boy and we’ll discuss your tenure later.”

Like Lisa on Facebook!

ANNE CARGILE

“You know, we can be civil about this,” the witch said kindly as she poured iced tea into one glass, and milk into a small bowl. She brought the beverages over to the table and set the bowl in front of the cat.

Lily, the cat, was sitting politely on top of the stool at the table, watching her. The occasional twitching of her whiskers the only indication she agreed.

“Thank you,” Lily said, and took a polite drink of her milk.

The witch nodded, and said, “I don’t particularly like to use poison you know, but I can’t have the mice running through my supplies and contaminating my herbs. Makes for very bad results when I cast a spell and it has mouse poop in it. I’m sorry that your friend was made ill, but what can we do to satisfy both our problems?”

Like Anne on Facebook!

NICOLE DRAGONBECK:

Nat very carefully drew the tip of the arrow through the poison, watching the black liquid gleam and then sink into the metal. This particular batch was for an assassin who was very difficult to satisfy, but there was a reason Nat was called the best. Nat set the arrow on top of the roll of leather, and reached for the last arrow. He held it up to the light, admiring the grain of the wood, the expert fletching, the razor sharp head. Instead of drawing this through the jar in front of him, he stood and walked to the shelf behind his work-desk. He pulled the blue book from its place, and pressed the hidden lever. The false back swung forward, and revealed the little cubby he kept his most rare and potent potions. The tiny bottle had but a single drop left, and Nat has been saving it for a very long time, but now the time was right. He tipped the liquid onto the last arrow, and watched as the metal began to glow as if it has just been pulled from a fire. Then the glow faded, but if one held the arrow up to the light, the tip of the arrow now had a slightly paler gleam than the others. Nat smiled grimly. It was time for payback.

Like Nicole on Facebook!

 

JM PAQUETTE:

“What if I just poison her?” Cassandra offered. “It’s quick, simple, effective. You’ll never have to think about this again.”

Helen sighed, considering the offer for a fraction of a second. It certainly would make things easier. “No,” she said after a pause. “That’s too easy. I mean, even if there’s suffering involved, it’s too nice. She needs to pay for what she did.”

“And death is just too good for her? When did you become so hard to satisfy?”

“After I started boning a man who is literally the gods’ gift to women,” Helen quipped, unable to stop herself.

Cassandra blanched. “Come on,” she said. “I just don’t want to think of him on top of you, the two of you doing all manner of things…ugh!” she shuddered. “He’s my brother!”

Helen looked slightly abashed, but the expression fled quickly. It was kind of fun to nettle Cassandra when she got the chance. For a woman who saw everything, Cassandra was shockingly prudish when it came to relationships. Helen thought that being pursued by a sex-crazed god might do that to a person, but then again, she’d been pursued by all of Greece and she still appreciated a good time. It was just too bad that Paris hadn’t survived the war.

Being back home with her husband was nothing to compare. She didn’t think she would have been contemplating assassination if she’d still been in Troy.

Like JM on Facebook!

ALANNA J. RUBIN

Alistair searched the top shelf for a cobalt blue vial, “Where is it?” He muttered to himself, shuffling bottles to and fro. “Come out, come out, wherever you are,” he sung quietly trying to coax the missing bottle to appear. “Ah ha!” He blurted out with excitement and snatched the vial, satisfied with the results of his search. Alistair climbed back down the ladder and went over to the table where he had a scroll unfurled with opposite edges held down by a bowl. He slapped the paper with his finger and read the measurement…two drops. Two Drops was all it would take to make the deadliest poison the realm had seen in hundreds of years. Two drops, was all that stood between him and reclaiming his birthright as Archmage. Two drops and the King would cease to exist.

Like Alanna on Facebook!

 

BRANDON SCOTT

Coming Soon!

Like Brandon on Facebook!

 

~Like ISG  on Facebook! 

~Follow us on Twitter!

Leave a comment

Filed under Creative Writing, Writers Group, Writing, Writing Exercise

Regardless – an ISG Writing Exercise

On 15 November 2017, these three words were chosen:

  • Regard
  • Ruler
  • Format

And these blurbs were written within five minutes….Enjoy!

FEATURED AUTHOR

JM PAQUETTE:

“Regard Less?” she read the name from the list carefully, focusing on each syllable as she spoke, not wanting anything to run into the next sound. She put the paper down and looked around the room. “Seriously? Regard Less? That’s your name?”

A boy in the front room nodded miserably. “It’s a family name,” he muttered. “My grandfather was Beauregard, but my ma thought that was too long.” He paused, then went on, “She wanted something nice and short, like our last name.”

The instructor nodded sympathetically. “Like Less. I see.” She paused, then read out the name with all of the dignity she could muster. “Regard Less, ruler of Garmin, land of Dragons and Misery.”

The class was in awe until she read that last word. A few awkward giggles swept through the assembled royal children.

“Are dragons all that bad, mate?” asked the boy sitting next to Regard, forgetting the etiquette and proper format of address.

The teacher squinted down at her paper, then held it up to the light. “Mystery,” she corrected in a low voice. “I see now. I really must get a new scribe.” She cleared her throat and tried again, “Sir Regard Less, ruler of Garmin, land of Dragons and Mystery,” she intoned. “Much better,” she decided, and Regard smiled at her.

She looked back down at the list of names. “Irr?” she asked, scanning the faces. “Regard…Oh, come on! Irr Regard?” She put the list down in disgust.

Like JM on Facebook!

LISA BARRY:

When I saw Ben take out the ruler, I turned and ran. Down the hallway and straight out the back door. The man was obsessed and despite my pleas he would not let it up. There was absolutely no way in hell that the distance between my cauldron and edge of the table was 2.5 inches and there was no way I was going to blow up the house. His lack of regard of my sensibilities was absolutely discouraging and I could not, nay, would not stay married to him another moment. My cauldron was my life and had been ten long years longer than my marriage. No man would ever tie me down again. Never. I stopped breathing hard from the run. I found myself in front of the local ice cream shop and perked up. Ben walked out the door and held out chocolate mint on a cake cone. He was lucky to have the format of dimension twisting down cold to have beat me here. He smiled sheepishly and showed me a ruler broken in half in his other hand. Gawd, he was handsome. I took the ice cream, watched as the ruler hit the ground and took his arm for the walk home.

Like Lisa on Facebook!

ANNE CARGILE

The plans just weren’t coming out. Dana rubbed her forehead, where a steady thump had developed. She regarded the paper in front of her and said, “Screw this”, threw her ruler down and turned off the desk lamp. A nice cup of tea might help she thought.

Colin was in the kitchen, where he’d been very nicely minding his own business while she’d worked. He looked up from whisking something that would probably end up being fattening and yummy and grinned at her.

It never failed. That grin had the power to make her heart stutter every single time, and the bastard new it.

“Did you figure out the format for the wedding reception?” he asked, winking.

“No,” she said and groaned. “There are too many people who don’t like each other. I can’t figure out where to put them that a fight won’t break out.” Dana groaned again and reached for the whiskey instead.

Like Anne on Facebook!

NICOLE DRAGONBECK:

“Your problem is that the format of your spell is wrong,” Moss pointed at the pile of feathers at the end of the pentagram. “What is that?”

Sara looked at the bloody mass, and her face colored. “I’m not really sure. My cat brought it in this morning, and it seemed fresh enough…” She trailed off at the pained look on Moss’ face.

The wizard pinched the bridge of his nose, gave a deep sigh and pulled out a ruler. He knelt down, being careful not to touch the cat’s offering, and began to measure the lines she had drawn. “Off by two inches. Off by two and a half inches. This one’s better-only off by one and a quarter.”

Sara was fighting tears, determined not to let him see how upset she was. Fortunately, he was so intent on critiquing her spell that he didn’t have attention for her. “And with regard to the placement,” he pointed at an oblique angle towards the door. “It should be lined up with the point to the North-north-west. If you truly want to summon the spirit of your grandfather, you’re going to have to start again.”

Sara sighed, and went to get the bleach. That blood was going to take some work to get out.

Like Nicole on Facebook!

 

DESIREE MATLOCK:

Without regard for the wishes of any of the office, and while the rest of us were still considering the options, our branch manager Patsy had booked us for a team building exercise reenacting the civil war at the memorial.

This was from the woman who once tried to format her Word document with a ruler and a marker. Needless to say, I had a feeling it was going to go strangely. I was nearly certain that she’d gotten the job through nepotism or blow jobs.. There wasn’t any other way to quite make sense of her placement atop our branch’s pecking order.

So, on the day of, my first sign that the team building exercise was going sideways was that just after arriving, Patsy started trying to storm back to her car, saying she’d been gypped.

“Obviously, this isn’t the real battleground. I mean, there aren’t even any bullet holes in the statues! We got scammed.”

Rob from accounting talked her down – thankfully he knew better than to try to explain her mistake – while the rest of us clambered into tents to change for the mock battle. Dear God I hope there wasn’t any live ammunition, because I was certain to try to use it on her if there was.

www.DesisTwoCents.com

ALANNA J. RUBIN

Frank stared at the blank white paper and the ruler that he had placed neatly next to it and breathed out feeling ready for the next phase…making the architectural drawing. His feeling of satisfaction was fleeting as he realized he didn’t know what to design. The client had given him specific instructions, a format to follow, but the whole thing seemed odd. However, Frank couldn’t disregard the client’s very specific instructions. The client warned him that if he did, there’d be consequences and Frank believed him or to be more specific believed the very sharp fangs he saw in the client’s toothy smile.

Like Alanna on Facebook!

 

BRANDON SCOTT

Coming Soon!

Like Brandon on Facebook!

 

~Like ISG  on Facebook! 

~Follow us on Twitter!

Leave a comment

Filed under Creative Writing, Writers Group, Writing, Writing Exercise

Blamed the Fish – an ISG Writing Exercise

On 14 May 2017, these three words were chosen:

  • Fish
  • Key
  • Purge

And these blurbs were written within five minutes….Enjoy!

FEATURED AUTHOR

NICOLE DRAGONBECK:

“And then the huge fish leaped out of the water, teeth gleaming like silver razors, and snatched the key from my hand, swallowing it, and taking to to the depths,” the man on the floor finished his tale, a pitiful wail escaping his lips as he cowered, his face pressed to the ground.

Rex lounged on the cushioned bench, and took his time selecting another grape from the solid gold platter beside him. The servant hovered somewhere in the vicinity, out of sight, but just as Rex had swallowed, the servant appeared, swooping in to offer the little vial of the potion that would purge the stomach should Rex be full yet wish to continue eating. Rex waved him away, and the man retreated to the world of invisibility.

“A fish, you say? With teeth?” The man on the floor trembled, and somehow managed to nod his head while keeping his forehead against the stone. “Interesting,” Rex said, and ate another grape. “And how is it your hand is still attached to your arm?”

The man quaked, but did not say anything. Rex considered for a moment, his mind going over the possibilities. He needed that key, more than anything, and it was all he could do to keep his calm. There were spies everywhere, their eyes and ears leading directly to the White King, and it would not do to have him know Rex’s growing desperation.

“Perhaps,” Rex said aloud. “You swallowed the key yourself, and blamed the fish?” Only now did the man lift his face, though his eyes were squeezed shut, his mouth trembling in unspoken pleas. Rex waved at a guard. “Open him up.”

Like Nicole on Facebook!

LISA BARRY:

Dangling the fish over the sleepy dragon’s nose, I pondered my next move. The Dark Kingdom had the key to my survival what with its vampiric ghosts, hairy shapeshifters and whorish fae. I knew I could make my fortune there easily but that double damned Prince. Everyone loved him and here I was wanting him purge him from our beautiful brimstone covered land.  He had thwarted my plans not once, or even twice but three bloody times he had muscled in on my action and taken the credit. When Scarp finally pulled the fish from my hand it was like a light had been flashed over my coveted talent of The Sight and I saw further than ever before. My salvation may not ever come, thank the Demon Goddess, but my pockets would be full of coin and the Prince would be history. I jumped up and set to work.

Like Lisa on Facebook!

ERIKA LANCE:

Marcile fished in his pocket for the key.  

 

The demon moved closer towards him snarling and flexing as if causing fear would make his prey taste better. It most likely did, but if one wanted to survive such encounters one best not think on this too hard. 

 

With key in hand he grabbed the box, closed it, locked it, read the words or better described as symbols around the lid and unlocked and opened the box as the demons jaws were about to clamp perfectly on his head. 

 

Suddenly there was a pop and the demon was gone and in it’s place was a banana. 

 

Marcile looked down at the fruit and wondered if he should bother touching it, but magic was fickle so he left it be, closed and relocked the box and headed after Jerimiah.  

 

It didn’t take long to stumble upon his friend or at least what he assumed was his friend in the form of a peacock now pacing the hallway leading out of the tomb.  

 

The bird had apparently purged any contents in its stomach moments before.  

 

Hmmmm” Marcile said looking behind and wondering if peacocks liked bananas. 

Like Erika on Facebook!

DESIREE MATLOCK:

I needed to purge some of the contents from this damn purse. I had been fishing around in it for a solid 90 seconds now looking for my housekeys. It was time to make dinner, not time to be lollygagging outside. Ugh.

I knew I’d placed my keys in the purse when I left the house. I sat in a huff, jeans too tight as I crouched onto the bricks of my front stoop. The entire purse turns upside down, light started fading. Digging through the contents and still not finding the keys, I remembered my mom’s advice and started rethinking all the steps that I’d taken as I left the house. I’d popped on my new peeptoes, walked to the hall, flipped the switch to turn off all the inside lights, pulled the keys from the hook, flipped the switch to turn on the porch light, locked the door, popped the keys into the side pocket of the purse, and then walked down the steps. Then I spent the day walking the city with Jimmy. It’d been a blast. Jimmy who I had never thought would be fun, but it really was. He had just walked me back and just now was disappearing around the corner, half a block away. I texted him quickly.

“Hey, can’t find keys. Come back?”

I hoped he didn’t take it as a come on, but I didn’t want to wait for the locksmith alone. The daylight was almost completely gone now, and locksmiths could take a while.

Jimmy hadn’t emerged from around the corner yet, but as I was dialing the locksmith, I noticed the front porch light must have blown out. I could still see the contents of my purse as I put them back into place, though, and I realized why. The livingroom light was on, and shining out through closed blinds. Blinds I hadn’t closed.

Oh, crap. The front door knob started turning, as I ran down the steps, trying to dial 9-1-1. I realized I’d been halfway through dialing the locksmith already, and it failed. I hung up on the locksmith, running full tilt, as I saw someone emerge from my house. What the hell, it looked like… It started running toward me, and I realized.

It looked like me. Exactly like me. I almost couldn’t look away, but I had to, I had to run faster. I turned to look behind me again, as I ran straight into Jimmy.

“Jimmy?” I was scared. I grabbed onto him, looked into his eyes, and something didn’t seem right. Something about Jimmy was just… wrong. Oh crap, I thought, just as everything went black.

www.DesisTwoCents.com

JM PAQUETTE:

John raised an eyebrow, knife poised over the fish splayed on the ceremonial plate before him. “So, do I just cut it or what?”

“It’s the Great Fish Feast, Human John,” Serena the Supreme Leader whispered. “Please find some measure of decorum.”

John kept his knife held over the plate, deciding that he would wait to see what everyone else did first. This dinner was a big deal after all, the key to sealing the peace treaty with the Estonians, his people’s only way of  avoiding the planet purge these Fish-loving people were so fond of. He had to show them that his people were worthy. That he was worthy. He’d hate it if he screwed it all up before they even got started because he didn’t know the proper way to eat fish. And at the Great Fish Feast, he was sure such manners were required. This was a test.

He stared at the fish, wishing he knew more about the creatures. It was grayish, with one gelatinous eye still staring balefully up at him. Weren’t the cooks supposed to cook it more, or skin it, or at least take the eyes out before serving it? What kind of savages ate like this?

They probably didn’t eat like this he realized. No doubt they purged all of the fish from their own seas, just as they destroyed everything else they decided needed to go.

And then they had to find new planets to inhabit, with strange new creatures to worship for a few moments before they purged again and moved on.

Fortunately for him, they seemed to live a long time. Maybe they would be entertained by the many different types of fish on this planet for the next hundred years and it wouldn’t matter to him anymore.

Like JM on Facebook!

ALANNA J. RUBIN

Wesley pulled the key out from around his neck. It was truly unique as it was shaped like the skeleton of a fish. It had taken him almost a year to find the door that it would unlock and today was going to be the day he’d find out what secrets were held within. He took a deep breath as he turned the key in the lock until a click sounded. As he pushed open the door a rush of air streamed past him, pulling him inside. It was useless to resist and he found himself trapped in the room, the door had slammed behind him. After he regained his equilibrium, Wesley realized he couldn’t remember who he was or why he was here. It was as if all his memories had been purged from his mind.

Like Alanna on Facebook!

BRANDON SCOTT

From the lake, he pulled forth a golden fish. It was large, heavy, and gasped at the lack of water. Fen looked at it and felt a tinge of guilt at his actions, but still placed it down inside the large pail he had brought for such an occasion.

“Hello, you little thing. How’s today going?” he said, trying to calm the thrashing creature. “It’s going to be okay, we only have to go a little way, and then we will have a feast, you and I.”

“Oh, now that’s bull,” said the fish, sounding a little hoarse. And Fen jolted away from the pail, his eyes wide.

“You think I am really going to fall for something like that?” the fish continued, now sitting in the center, it’s mouth flapping in accordance with human speech. “You’re planning to eat me.”

“Well…” Fen said, unsure what to say to a fish. He hung his head in guilt.

“No, no—don’t be that way. Your species eats fish, I understand—but here, I can make it worth your while. Reach into the pail, and I will give you a golden key.”

“A golden key?” Fen asked, incredulous.

“Yes. A key to the secret door, at the center of the pond. Behind it, gold and jewels beyond your wildest dreams.”

The man’s eyes widened, and, in a fit of greed, reached forward into the pail. A moment later, defying all laws of physics, his entire frame flew into the pail and disappeared.

The fish let out a loud burp and then chuckled. “That’s one way to purge a human—if only I could do it more often. They are good eating.”

Like Brandon on Facebook!

~Like ISG  on Facebook! 

~Follow us on Twitter!

Leave a comment

Filed under Creative Writing, Writers Group, Writing, Writing Exercise

Creepy Flitty Things – an ISG Writing Exercise

On 15 March 2017, these three words were chosen:

  • Tweet
  • Surprise
  • Sensitive

And these blurbs were written within five minutes….Enjoy!

FEATURED AUTHOR

ANNE CARGILE

“What the hell is that noise?” Gail asked.

“I dunno, sounds like tweeting, you know, like birds or something,” Henry answered.

Gail shuddered. She didn’t like birds, not one bit. Creepy flitty things. With nasty little beaks. Only thing they were good for was food and feathers for pillows and beds. This job was not what she had signed up for she thought as she tiptoed down the decrepit hallway. She didn’t like surprises either, and this job had just been one after another.

Henry sneezed and Gail stifled and groan. It would be just like his stupid sensitive nose to go off and get them caught. She waved at him and motioned for him to plug his nose. The witch was asleep upstairs, and they couldn’t afford to wake her before they finished the job. She pushed the kitchen door open and the tweets turned into screeches.

Like Anne on Facebook!

LISA BARRY:

The birds tweeting outside my window did not make me happy. After working late and going to bed after four this morning, the only thing that would bring me any pleasure was a hot man or a sleeping draught. I peeled open my eyes and they screamed from the light pouring in, their sensitivity at full volume. I blinked a few times before pulling the covers up to my chin in surprise. I had been joking about the hot man but someone had finally been looking over my well-being because sure as shit, there was a tall, dark and handsome sitting on my cozy chair. And there was not a stitch of clothing on him. This day just started making me very happy.

(With love to Erika. ❤ )

Like Lisa on Facebook!

NICOLE DRAGONBECK:

She followed the tweeting sound, the solid pewter candle held in both hands over her shoulder like a bat. Her palms were sweating and she kept readjusting her grip, fearing that if she had to use it as a weapon, it would slip from her grasp and that would be the end of her. Triya had been trapped in this nightmarish place, and was now accustomed to its surprises, so much so that she was overly sensitive to sounds that were out of place and made her think of poor, helpless creatures in need of a caring touch. More often that not those sounds belonged to something with too many teeth and a foul stench that would try to disembowel her and feast on her soft innards. Luck had kept her alive this long, but Triya wasn’t going to count on it forever. The abandoned house she had found, with the sagging roof and the creaking stairs had turned out to be a safer haven than she could’ve hoped for, empty but for curtains of cobwebs and the rats that left her alone as long as she left them alone. A particularly pathetic chirp made her stomach clench and her heart jump to her throat, and once again, she brought the candlestick up. Taking a deep breath, she peered around the corner, and there, laying in the middle of the half-rotted kitchen floor, was a magnificent bird with red and gold plumage, and flames dancing under its feet.

Like Nicole on Facebook!

DALIA LANCE:

She didn’t realize how sensitive she was until it happened to her. It is one thing to get what has been dubbed as a “surprise penis” when you open a text from someone you have slept with before, or even someone trying really hard to impress you to get to be added to the list of people you have slept with. 

 

This thought caused her to pause for a moment and ponder why guys thought sending their dicks randomly out made girls all into them. It actually usually has the opposite effect. 

 

She looked down at her phone and shook her head.  

 

Who the tell Tweets a dick pick with the #Iloveyoubaby and lists her twitter handle.  

 

She wondered if her boss had seen it.  

 

She debated reporting it, but the damage was already done. This is social media after all, these things moved at the speed of light. 

 

She looked at the photo again as she got another mention on twitter.  

 

Could she block him she wondered as she opened the latest Tweet and wondered why had he drawn hearts on the tip?  

Like Dalia on Facebook!

~Like ISG  on Facebook! 

~Follow us on Twitter!

Leave a comment

Filed under Creative Writing, Writers Group, Writing, Writing Exercise