Thursday, February 24, 2011

Available on Craigslist

This was written for The Red Dress Club ,the prompt was write a humorous listing for eBay or Craig's List. Talk about the history of the items, why they must go.

For Sale: $1500.00
One fenced in back yard suitable for dogs. 
Rarely used, (dog prefers to poop in house).  
Comes with one large tree, (dog prefers dining room table legs).  
Partial flower garden, (dog digs up flowers). 
Ratty lawn furniture, (dog ate chair cushions). 

Special offer! 
$1600.00 rebate!*

*to receive rebate requirement must be met.
Take the damn dog!

Sunday, February 20, 2011


The prompt: Write a piece about a fight. What happened? Why? Who "won"? What were the repercussions?

All of the young Nadan trained, daily.  So daily, Naddnē was on the field with the young men. She had been there every day for eight years. Learning the arts of defense. With and without weapons. 

Today she works alone.  Works with her sword. 
Step. Swing. Turn. 
The blade sings through the air. She follows. 
Turn. Swing.   The blade, her arm. Step. Swing.
The blade plays currents of air like the strings of a harp. Swing. Turn. 

A flash at the edge of her vision. Turn. Swing. Blade on blade. Ring. Step. Swing.
Blade slides on blade. Turn, swing. Blade plays on blade.
Naddnē realizes it is Baundl.
Step. He has bullied her for years. 
Turn. The blade sings.
At six, the practice blade is too heavy. He taunts her. Too small. Too girl. 
Step, step, swing.

At ten, he is faster. He chases her with his new steel blade. He shatters her practice blade. 
Turn. Swing, step. 

Last year, she receives her steel blade. 
He laughs at it. The hilt is made for her smaller hand. It is balanced for her lesser weight.  He calls it a baby blade.
Step, swing. 
Step, sing. 

The blade, her arm, her rage, one.    
His blood. 
Turn, swing, sing, step, swing. 
Blade, arm, one, bloodsong. 

Baundl sweats now. Retreats.
Naddnē swings her rage/blade/arm. One in  the song. The blades meet, sing.  Her blade demands.  His blade no more than a thin shield. 
Turn. Swing.
Baundl falls.  
Step. Swing. 

Blade on leather shield. Discordant. Rage.  

The shield belongs to Dænl, her kindred. He has thrown it over Baundl to protect him from the death blow.  The shield has split Baundl's lip. 

She takes a breath, closes her eyes.  The blade is quiet.  She approaches Baundl as he regains his feet. 
She speaks to him, "She sang for your blood."
He topples backward as Naddnē slams the flat of her blade against his swollen, dripping lip. 
"It's only fitting that she have it"

This is a little more of the character from Prologue.  Although this was originally posted in February, I've edited (a lot) for the prompt.

Thursday, February 17, 2011

Darkness Tells

Walking in shadows
Avoiding the light
Truths hidden in the dark
At night
Where the mind wanders
Into blurry vistas
And words never said
Flit like moths
With no fear of fire
"hear me hear me hear me"
Hands over ears
No relief
From the truth
"fear me fear me fear me"