To be announced

My teacher Named my life in four words. I hated him for it.

Before that, sprites lived in Mother's peonies--she abandoned the garden for drink, but they blossomed. if I called out in rhyme and didn't turn around, the Woodsinger would come and talk to me, so long as I never asked him a question. But I could ask the trees; their dancing leaves would lead me to the answer.

Until him. "Thalia, you're a Wizard." Then came his laws and equations and symbolism - structure, ritual, conformity. He didn't even ask.

The peonies stopped doing so well.

x-posted to drabblemania

...I wrote a challenge for 30minutemuse. I suspect it's literature, since it's tiresomely autobiographical, though not written prettily enough.  I suppose if I kept going with it, I would use it to point out how the Interstitial person lives...

anyway, most of you aren't on that community so I added it to my own LJ too. First draft, wobbly, all that.

Title: We're not From Around Here
Rating: PG? I don't know. I'd give it to a 13 year old...
Challenge: The new guy (or girl)
Author's Notes: Original fic. not in a fandom of any sort. not a whiff of spec-fic about it.

( I can write a lot in 30 minutes )

Doors.

Doors.

All your embroidery floss bows are belong to us.

Doors.

Doors.

All your bloodstain marks on the floor are belong to us.

I drink more water. Doors. Doors.

Dammit! I've written myself into a hallway!

I give up. I'll take the insufferable speech about choice from the windbag in the TV room for 200, Alex.

Exasperated, I look up...

oh.

Idiot.

>s

Endless hallway

>s

Endless hallway
There is a ladder here.

>whoohoo!

I don't know the word "whoohoo!"

---

Chelsea Polk swore that she would do the rabbit hole meme with all the enthusiasm of The Infamous Santa Hat Project, and we believe that she has kept her promise, having written 4300 words of sillyass LJ entires for the delight and concern of her faithful readers--and realizes that at this point, her readers truly are faithful, and she thanks you all.

It took a couple more rocks, but I figured it out.

Vampire wolves hate light, Jock. hate it. so I lit two candles I tied together with floss, and used the bit of mirror shard to shine beams right into their creepy-ass glowy hypno eyes! hah! sizzle and whimper, disgusting undead fiends! Ahem. so. sizzle, whimper, book it to the tower--

When my candle went out, I cut my hand on the mirror shard, and I dropped my lighter.

the wolves were still blind, but they could smell my blood trail as I held the candles between my knees and tried not to get blood on the matches or the striker, and they were coming. The glow in their eyes was out, but they still came, slinking almost, as they felt their way along the mosses and paused to daintily lick the trail away.

Lit! I put the mirror shard back in my grip and beamed that light at the lead one, listening to him squeal. hah! take that! and that! they cowered and sizzled and I ran back to the tower, clenching my toes like fists to keep my sandals on, ignoring the shard that lanced up my left ankle every time my heel struck earth.

Limp for the rest of your life? acceptable option, compared to soul sucking canines with squirrel breath! stitch in in my side? tough it out, lazy!

my first step onto the drawbridge landed wrong, on that ankle, only it was all the way up to the knee and then an exclamation! of hot red light and silver sparlking pain as I came down on the knee.

I had the wit to fling the mirror away before I broke my fall, but the candle went with it.

The drawbridge was over a moat - was it any water, or just running water? I rolled onto my butt, set that spear straight in my hand, crab- crawled back against the wall while the wolves stood at the edge - not quite ready to step over the water, but the trail of my blood too much to resist. they'd chased me for so very long.

they were so very famished now.

and it was all my fault, for being selfish enough to run, and waste all this time when I was never going to make it ayway. the door behind me was locked. of course it was. all of this struggle is only bitter irony. now i'm dirty and limping and cut in the web of my pinky and ring finger, and that taste in my throat is defeat, and I've got the spear to help me get on my feet and stagger closer to the wolves who waited now that the game was up.

I stood on five drops of my own blood on the hand-planed timbers of the drawbridge---three under my right foot, two under my left and a nail just there at the ball of my foot as I spun the spear in reverse and drove the silvered tip right into the vampire wolf's flickering left eye.

The rest of them were too damaged to do much more than gnash and wail.

I turned around and limped back to the tower door.

It was open, of course.

They have internet down here!

That's the good news.

The bad news is that if these chairs are any indication, the average height of adults around here is about seven feet. I'm swinging my heels like a little kid. there isn't anybody around.

the other bad news is that the door leading to out is big and heavy and locked and I am too wee to get out.

and call me weird but I think the sun is setting out there, not rising.

but the very bad news? the ultimate worstest news?

There's no hole in the ceiling here.

ooooops.

Okay. that hole might bear further investigating, but for now I have returned, after dusting off my mad long jump skillz. what a picnic! I had about a three step lead off only to take bead curtain in the face. wood doesn't conduct electricity, but it felt like I'd gotten a static shock when I touched the beads and when I got a look in the mirror i had hair like yahoo serious. Incredibly. bad. scene.

getting back *in* the room was a bit of an adventure. I ended up with bead curtain in the face again (Hippie hideout 2, chelsea big old goose egg) but I nearly got sacked by one of my bookshelves, which would have been bad because that's the one with the plant on it.

And yeah, I'm talking around the point. Jumping over the point.

Saw a hole in my floor, gentle readers, and you will peer down on the living room, which is currently (I presume) full of boxes full of books to go in the library which is in my old used to be room that is way too small to be useful.

except that's not what is down there.

If I didn't know better, I'd swear it was a bar down there. currently closed, but...

I don't know if I can explain exactly, and I could be wrong but the chairs look weird, like they're too high or something.

Well it's a bar. they could be barstools or something...

Sure, But Can You Afford It?
550 words, original fic, fantasy
rated PG for possible suggestive situations
( Read more... )

Today's 15 minute ficlet entry is a picture!

If My Calculations Prove Correct....
Psuedo Victorian Fantasy, who knows how many words
General audiences


( Read more... )

***

Well! I'm curious about those three. I wonder where they came from?

No shortage of writing exercise communities on LJ! meet 15minuteficlets which updates every sunday. They've been around for a year already, and I just found them now.

( Here's my first ficlet. )