Waiting for Dinner – an ISG Writing Exercise

These three words were chosen:

• Myth
• Glitter
• Leather

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

FEATURED AUTHOR

LISA BARRY:

Deirdre walked into the club like she owned the place. She went most places like that so it wasn’t exactly a change for her. She strode up to the bar and met the eyes of the man serving drinks.

“Jameson, straight,” she told him. He nodded and served her drink before getting back to the patron he had ignored before her. Taking a sip, she let the firey drink trickle down her throat in satisfaction.

She leaned back on the bar letting her long coat fall to the side to show off her perfectly shaped, leather wrapped body. There was glitter perfectly placed under her eyes and down her throat. Tomorrow she might change it up. Maybe hit a square dancing bar or maybe, a tinder date.

But tonight, supposedly just a myth, she waited for her dinner to seek her out.

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ANNE CARGILE:

“While I appreciate spending time with my bestie, if you really hadn’t wanted attention, maybe you could have laid off the leather,” Jas remarked.

Cynthia stretched, her boobs straining against the tight purple and black corset and then winked at her friend.  “I can’t help it.  A girls gotta have a little something, something to feel good about.  Why should the glitter and polish just be for work?”

“You know,” Cynthia commented, “it’s a myth that succubus can only have sex for food.  Take me, I’m no sex vamp.  Can’t even remember the last time I got down and dirty with someone.  True, it’s been harder since the social distancing thing took over, but at least I learned how to feed a sip at a time instead of gorging.”

Several men at the bar had turned to watch when Cynthia’s body had gone taut against the restraints of her outfit and Jas just sighed.  It was no use.  Cyn was going to sin.

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DALIA LANCE:

“You have to be effin kidding me?” Sandra looked down at the small box in front of her.  It was a leather bodysuit, a unicorn horn headband and four mason jars of pink and silver glitter.

“This is nuts. What is even supposed to be happening?” her voice filled with regret. When Tammy had asked her to take on one of her gigs tonight so she could go to a concert she assumed it was just a shift at the club.

Shrugging Tammy picked up the body suit “You’re like a magical creature. You’re a myth come to life.”

“No what I am is weirdo’s fairytale” Sandra was liking this idea less and less. “So, what is it I am supposed to do exactly?” a sigh escaped her lips as she took the leather from Tammy’s hands.

“You simply prance around and throw glitter on him” Tammy said trying her best to make it sound not so bad.

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JM PAQUETTE:

The vampire stared at her, sexy face now disappointed and bordering on frustration. “Did you seriously just ask me why I don’t glisten in the sun?” He glanced down at his pale, but certainly not shiny skin. “Does this look like glitter to you?” He scowled. “Next you will want to know where my leather pants are, right?” He rubbed his hands against frayed blue jeans. “Do you have any idea how hot leather is? I am not Jim Morrison, okay? Leather pants only work for rock stars whose groupies don’t care what they smell like!” He shook his head, years of frustrated disgust pouring out of him. “If you’d read an actual book for once instead of all of these damned romance novels, you might actually learn something true!” He picked up a paperback with a dark, leather-clad hero on the cover and tossed it across the room.

‘Do…do you mean that there are actual books with true stories about vampires in them?” she asked, hesitant but curious despite herself.

He gave her a look as if she were a simpleton. “Have you ever heard of myths?” he snapped. “Where do you think all those old stories come from?” He snatched her phone from where it sat on the edge of her nightstand and started swiping angrily.

“What are you doing?” she asked, sitting up, but not daring to take the phone from him.

“I’m ordering you a copy of some Edith Hamilton, for starters, “ he snapped. “What’s your CVC code?”

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JACKLYNE BARD:

The little girl was covered in glitter, and her boots were made of fine leather, though they were very worn out. Her shirt was pink and had Myth written in bold letters on the front and back. The cat watched her skip around to the gate of the garden. Something was not right. The boy shifted a little but didn’t change his position. His face grew very pale when he finally caught sight of the girl. “Myth.” He breathed in horror and pointed his gun straight at her chest. The cat heard another noise from beyond the wall. Three more guys were walking in their direction.

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Your Hair is Like Fire – an ISG Writing Exercise

These three words were chosen:

• Stumble 

• Lime 

• Fire 

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

FEATURED AUTHOR

DALIA LANCE:

As he stumbled closer, she noticed he had something in his teeth or his teeth were … green?  

 

Oh god she thought. Shayna had the same thought but hers was out loud. As he pulled up to high-top table leaning on it for support, he slurred the words “Your hair is on fire.” as a lime fell out of his mouth.  

 

“What?” Tabitha asked him as her hair was not on fire. 

 

“You hair…” belch “is like a fire” belch again “in my eyes”. 

 

“Wow Romeo” Shayna began “You really know how to make a girl all tingly.” 

 

The man looked at her and then back to Tabitha and then back again. They both could tell his eyes were trying to focus. He opened his mouth to speak but before he could he slid off the table to the ground. 

 

“Your hair is like fire” Shayna said to Tabitha teasing as she flipped her off. 

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LISA BARRY:

Just when Rory thought his life forfeit the dragon sneezed and then Rory was falling. He couldn’t tell you how but he had somehow managed to be tossed to the groves. As he fell, branches full of ripe limes wracked him at every turn. He landed with a thud on the ground.

The pain wrenched through him but seemed to fade a bit and he was shocked to find that nothing seemed to be broken though he felt a cut on his foot and his temple dripping his rich green blood. Panicking, he stumbled to his feet and moved away from the noise of the pubs destruction. The screams and fire was nothing compared to what the villagers would do to him if they found out his heritage.

The Fae were hated and feared above all other creatures in this sector. That was the very reason Rory had made it his home. The Fae were not known for their patience and kind ways and not a single one that he knew was interested in Rory breathing on the same plane.

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JM PAQUETTE:

“There, before my helpless sight, I see him stumbling, like a man in fire or lime,” the teacher recited the poem, and Bridget elbowed her classmate, leaning over to whisper in her ear.

“This is why I hate poetry,” she groaned. “What the hell is that? How do you stumble in fire or lime?” She leaned away, her face annoyed.

The teacher looked at them and paused in her recitation. “Do you have a comment, Miss O’Neil?” she asked, a finger pushing her horn-rimmed glasses up her long nose. “Something you’d like to share with the rest of us?”

Bridget shuffled uncomfortably in her chair, but then squared her shoulders. “Actually, yes. I do have a comment for the class.” She paused, clearly steeling herself for some big revelation. “Why can’t they just use normal words?”

The teacher tilted her head, face curious. “‘Normal words?’” she repeated. “What about these words are not normal?”

“Well, that fire or lime bit,” Bridget tried, latching on to the last thing she remembered. She hadn’t actually read the poem before class like they were supposed to, but she did have good recall of the teacher’s voice saying the words. There was a brief moment where she prayed that the next lines weren’t something really obvious, like fire or lime green fog. Then she’d feel like more of an idiot than she normally did when reading poetry.

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ALANNA J. RUBIN

Faron ran through the dark woods as quickly as he could – the branches tearing at his clothes that were already tattered and covered in dirt, his muscled arms and legs sliced by thorns. The roots that lined the ground made it almost impossible not to stumble, but he had to keep going – he had to get to the fire. He looked down at the lime green stone he clutched in his hand, the one he had stolen. The one he had promised to return to her, no matter the cost – even if it cost him his life. In the distance, the trees began to open as if they were beckoning him in deeper.

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Safe Word – an ISG Writing Exercise

These three words were chosen:

• Plethora
• Stine
• Alcohol

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

FEATURED AUTHOR

JM PAQUETTE:

Seth considered the stein on the bar in front of him, watching the wooden edges warp from the crisp clarity of reality to the blurred edges of drunkenness. He tries to remember just how much alcohol he had consumed, and found that he couldn’t even remember when he had arrived at the bar, and, he realized, trying to look around, seeing black spots, and refocusing on the blurry-non-blurry mug, that he didn’t even know what bar he was in.

“‘Sappening,” he managed to say, but he wasn’t sure to whom. The word was long and syrupy, his perception twisted, and he reached out to touch the bar. His fingers met something smooth and silky, not at all what his eyes told him to expect to be underneath the mug, and he knew that it meant something, that he should be concerned about something. Again, he focused on the there-not there mug, and tried to think about lifting it to his lips. Had he drank from it? Had he even touched it? Could he touch it?

He reached it again, but still that strange warm silkiness beneath his questing fingers, though it looked like he was touching the edge of the bar. It was a familiar bar, brown wood, like every other inn he’d even gotten drunk in.

Drunk. His brain seized on the word. He’d had a lot to drink then. How much to drink?

“Plethora,” he breathed, the word escaping his mouth, but he wasn’t sure where it had come from. He didn’t think one could have a plethora of drinks, that alcohol wasn’t measured that way, and he saw the liquid as a huge lake before him, cool and clear.

“Really, pet?” a silky voice said as the mug vanished into surrounding darkness. “I didn’t expect the safe word yet.”

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LISA BARRY:

Rory cleaned what he thought was the twentieth stine that night. Looking around the packed pub, he didn’t think the dish washer job was going to slow down any time soon. Now that the dragon was slayed and rotting at the top of the hill, there was a plethora of alcohol being consumed. The ripe bodies of warriors filled the tables, and spilled out of the double doors. Ruckus laughter and bawdy jokes wafted into the nearby forest.

After years of being destroyed, the small town was finally rid of their nemesis. It had taken the band of fighters months to locate the beast, and they had lost many men in taking it down but at last, there would be peace. Rory smiled as yet another tray of stines was piled next to him.

He hurried, happy to help them revel in their victory. He had lost a cousin to the beast only last week. A terrible noise cracked above their heads as part of the roof was ripped off and a terrible roar echoed in the night. Rory felt himself wrenched from the pub and pulled into the sky.

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DALIA LANCE:

“I do not think you would say a “plethora” of drunks.”  Shayna said looking at the soccer team almost falling over themselves at the other side of the bar. 

 

“Well what would you call them? A gaggle of drunks?” Tabitha asked her taking a sip from her chocolate martini. 

 

“Maybe a herd?” Shayna said as she watched one of the loudest players pick up a beer stein shaped like a boot. As he tipped it back declaring “Dos Boot” all the beer splashed down his face. Instead of being upset the whole group cheered. 

 

“It is amazing what alcohol will do to a pack of drunks?” Tabitha said realizing she had made eye contact with one of the pack, and he was making his way over to their table. 

 

“Oh God” Shayna said realizing what has happened “I told you not to engage”.  

 

Tabitha downed the rest of her drink readying herself. 

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ALANNA J. RUBIN

Manny walked into the saloon, it had seen better days based on the plethora of bullet holes in the wood that made up the bar, but he was use to being in dangerous places. He walked over to the bartender, his spurs making an intimidating sound with every step. For a small town, the bar was fairly well stocked and there was more than one type of alcohol to choose from. “What will it be?” Asked the bartender.

“Whiskey,” Manny replied, he knew it was an unexciting choice, but reliable. “I’m looking for a man. His name is Eric Stein.”

“Never heard of him,” the bartender answered nervously.

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Cupcake Alley – Featured Author: Dalia Lance

FEATURED AUTHOR

Dalia Lance

www.DaliaLance.com

Dalia’s Facebook page

 

Every time the Ink Slingers meet, we do two to three writing exercises that must include three to four specific words that were unknown to the author prior to hearing the loud “START!” command and then getting to it! We love sharing the end result with you.

Sometimes the author will have three unique shorts and other times the author will write a continuing story from one exercise to the next. These continuations can be tricky to create but this Ink Slinger killed it with this fun story.

Enjoy!

____________________________________

Saturate

Cupcake

Alley

 

“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.”

 

Flail

Rushed

Coterie

 

“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?”

 

Hoodie

Green

Sight

 

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?”

____________________________________

About Dalia Lance

I have had a very interesting upbringing starting with growing up in Hollywood, CA. Never shy, I learned that if you are not willing to try something new you may let life simply pass you by. I love meeting people from all walks of life and these experiences inspire me on a daily basis. As a true friend once pointed out “You are never a complete waste, you can always be used as a bad example”. So what’s the worst that can happen?

What happens when you stop looking for Mr. Right and start looking for Mr. Right Now?

Check out the first book in the Randi Michaels series, My Home on Home Island, and prepare for Mr. Right Now!

 

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.

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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.

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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.

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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?”

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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.

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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.

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BRANDON SCOTT:

Coming Soon!

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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.

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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.

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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.”

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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?”

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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.”

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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.

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BRANDON SCOTT:

coming soon

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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.”

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.”

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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.

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BRANDON SCOTT:

Coming Soon!

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Featured Author: Dalia Lance

FEATURED AUTHOR

Dalia Lance

www.DaliaLance.com

Dalia’s Facebook page

 

Every time the Ink Slingers meet, we do two to three writing exercises that must include three to four specific words that were unknown to the author prior to hearing the loud “START!” command and then getting to it! We love sharing the end result with you.

Sometimes the author will have three unique shorts and other times the author will write a continuing story from one exercise to the next. These continuations can be tricky to create but this Ink Slinger killed it with this fun story.

Enjoy!

____________________________________

Match, Island, Swing

She couldn’t believe her luck. She had waited her entire life for something like this to happen.

As she stared out of her cabana to the white sands and blue waters of the beach in front of her she could not imagine a more perfect place.

This was the island of her dreams.

Then she heard the sound that would plague her forever “Hey there” came a nasally voice from her left. She turned to see a man, well he was at least male, sitting in a wooden bench swing that seemed to be propped between her cabana and her neighbors.

“Ummm” she actually didn’t know what to say.

He decided to get up and walk towards her “So, did you just get here?” he asked. His voice was like liquid nails on a chalkboard.

“Yes” she said trying to look for something to occupy herself instead of speaking with him more.

“Well then we will be seeing A LOT of each other” he continued, she winced “I am here for another two weeks.”

This vacation was ruined in a matter of moments.

This was a tropical match made in hell.

______________

Rash, Wax, Phone

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.

____________________________________

Juice, Unwanted, Jelly

So how did the vacation go you might be wondering. She at least figured many of her friends and co-workers would be asking her this when she returned.

Well, she would tell them. She spent an entire week avoiding unwanted advances. Trying to see any part of the beach without hearing or seeing her neighbor Tim. That was his name she found out.

She also only ate juice and jelly on toast instead of any real fruit for fear of the mysterious rash that Tim had shown her on his arm and thigh. Not his leg, but pulled up his shorts and showed an upper thigh.

By the time she boarded the plane she sent her boss a brief, but concise email letting him know she would be using another three days of her vacation time starting Monday. She did not explain why, but more so that it was happening and she wasn’t asking approval.

She decided that she would pick up supplies and have a vacation on her couch, in her pjs watching Netflix and pretending calories and Tim do not exist.

____________________________________

About Dalia Lance

I have had a very interesting upbringing starting with growing up in Hollywood, CA. Never shy, I learned that if you are not willing to try something new you may let life simply pass you by. I love meeting people from all walks of life and these experiences inspire me on a daily basis. As a true friend once pointed out “You are never a complete waste, you can always be used as a bad example”. So what’s the worst that can happen?

What happens when you stop looking for Mr. Right and start looking for Mr. Right Now?

Check out the first book in the Randi Michaels series, My Home on Home Island, and prepare for Mr. Right Now!

 

Just My Luck – an ISG Writing Exercise

On 17 January 2018, these three words were chosen:

• Juice
• Unwanted
• Jelly

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

FEATURED AUTHOR

DESIREE MATLOCK:

The bonfire of driftwood lit up the beach as the stars came out. It really was quite beautiful. It would have been better if I didn’t seemed to be the only person that the mosquitoes wanted to bite, which was just genetically unfair. The beach bodies that surrounded me honestly needed some flaw, and a few ugly mosquito bites only seemed fair. But maybe they just had better bug spray. I’d gotten mine at the health food store, which in retrospect looked like it might have been a mistake.

The brunette, whose name turned out to be Theo, plopped himself down on the sand next to my blanket, and somehow the sand that stuck to his leg in one spot looked like more of a Sports Illustrated carefully planned sandy patch than the one that was currently making my thigh itch.

“Hey,” Theo said. His voice was like honey. “Got anything to eat?”

“Um sure,” I rummaged again, glad to be this guys’ go-to for random items that the other folks on this beach hadn’t considered necessary. Maybe it would work out in my favor that I’d packed like a normal person. From what was going on around me, I guessed most of these folks had packed condoms and some party drugs. None of that was my style, and I didn’t see Sandra anywhere anymore. Oh wait. She was sitting over on the boat with one of the guys I’d tagged as probably not straight. Huh. I guess you never knew.

I found a juice box and a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and handed them over to Theo. He smiled.

“Can I get two, actually?”

“Um, sure,” I repeated myself. I pulled out another one, and off Theo trotted, meeting up with the one who’d introduced herself as Tiffany, I think. OR maybe it was Luscious? Or was that the other one?

Just my luck I was the only unwanted person on this beach.

www.DesisTwoCents.com

LISA BARRY:

Margo pushed the unwanted glass of juice away and scowled.

“How can you lose a full-grown pixie?” she asked.

Dillon shrugged but barely moved his shoulder. If he had a tail it would be hanging to the ground.

Margo’s eyes blazed, a bit of gold sparked in them. She tried to hold down the fire. She picked up a slice of toast and spread two containers of jelly on it. Dillon had been smart to meet her at the diner. She would have been tempted to tear out his heart otherwise.

“Did you cuff her with the pokeweed like I said?”

He nodded.

“Did you play Mozart like I said?”

He nodded.

“Ok, so you should have had a sleeping, tied up pixie.”

He nodded.

“How,” she growled, “did you lose her?”

Dillon coughed quietly before turning slightly and pointing at a booth near the front door.

Margo paled. She saw not one but three full-grown pixies, including the one she had hoped to slaughter that evening, watching her with interest.

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DALIA LANCE:

So how did the vacation go you might be wondering. She at least figured many of her friends and co-workers would be asking her this when she returned.

Well, she would tell them. She spent an entire week avoiding unwanted advances. Trying to see any part of the beach without hearing or seeing her neighbor Tim. That was his name she found out.

She also only ate juice and jelly on toast instead of any real fruit for fear of the mysterious rash that Tim had shown her on his arm and thigh. Not his leg, but pulled up his shorts and showed an upper thigh.

By the time she boarded the plane she sent her boss a brief, but concise email letting him know she would be using another three days of her vacation time starting Monday. She did not explain why, but more so that it was happening and she wasn’t asking approval.

She decided that she would pick up supplies and have a vacation on her couch, in her pjs watching Netflix and pretending calories and Tim do not exist.

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BRANDON SCOTT:

Sasha winced, again, she knew that was the deal—she’d been offered the chance through some random dating app she’d been trolling for perhaps one decent guy in her city, but to be so blunt about it, well, she was not a blunt sort of girl.

“I guess so,” she said and stared off into the distance. For a long, profoundly awkward moment, they both sat there.

“Juice,” he finally asked, and she jerked her head back.

“Look, okay—they set these up, okay, and it’s always a little awkward.”

“How could you know –if you already…?”

The man darkly glanced at the ground, still holding a little glass jar of pear juice that looked heavenly to Sasha, she’d only eaten jelly on toast since she’d gotten here.

“Turns out, you always get five—everyone, by sheer math, always have five true loves in the world. If one becomes…unwanted, for whatever reason, or someone dies, they bring you back: for free.”

Sasha did not know how to take this data but did accept his offer of juice. Her head was swirling a bit, and full of something fuzzy. But, and she had to keep reminding herself of this, the matchmakers did claim they were true loves.

So, she took another sip, wished it were wine and looked him in the eyes.

He held her gaze calmly and said, “So, want to try it out?”

“Hell to it,” she muttered and kissed him so hard they fell out of the swing.

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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.”

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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.”

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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.

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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.

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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.”

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