New writing assignment, due 1/27

[dorkelf]

Here's an assignment to herald in the new year:

General instructions: Write a story involving a new-year's resolution.

Specific instructions (OPTIONAL): Your character has been struggling to honor a new-year's resolution, but at the very last minute he breaks it.

Write a story of 50-500 words, or a poem of any length. Original rather than previously-written material is preferred but not required. Post your story directly to this thread, or if you'd prefer to remain anonymous you may pm your story to me. Also post comments and critiques to this thread (and remember, if you enter the contest you must critique at least one other entry). If you have any questions, check out the information threads or feel free to pm me.

Paul

 

[dorkelf]

Entry #1 - "Eternal Light"

Today, yes today I make an honest vow
To bring yesterday, yes yesterday right up to now
To bring in a new year without all the strife
To bring change, new change in this solemn life

I will face forward, my eyes towards the light
Determined to adhere to the purest of fights
I can’t run away from the days left behind
Never will I cry or bring shame to my mind

Struggles ahead but I must keep my sight
Ahead is my future so I must keep in the light
Trials and errors ahead I know I must face
But failure of course is every mortal’s fate

My vow is to keep the light for all to see
But light leaves a shadow, a shadow of me
Where darkness will hide yes hide its ugly face
Affecting the heart yet always it leaves a trace

So boldly I go, I go forward towards the light
I face forward determined to change my life
Fearful and humble, unworthy is what I am
Knowing now why I am here and why I am

For light I see, yes I see is straight before me
For it’s not me, no not me I want others to see
Reaching deep, so very deep within my soul
It’s changing my heart to be good, good as gold

Yes today I will make this my only vow you see
But the light is shining, shining brightly for me
I know, yes I know it is one that I will break
For light that is shining is shining for my sake

A past full of darkness, yes darkness terrible in sight
But today, yes today I will stand strong in the light
So I vow never, never be afraid of what I might see
Unafraid of the shadow, yes, the shadow that is
Behind me

 

[Lazarus]

Title: Sometimes things don't turn out the way we expected.

---------------------------------------------------------------------
Spence Gordon slid into the quiet British pub and sat down on a bar stool. His normally neat appearance had been replaced by disheveled clothing and muddy shoes.

"What 'oppened to you, mate?" the bartender asked as he handed Spence his usual, a lager beer.
"Ah - thanks, Charlie."
Spence took a swig and sputtered.
"What do you put in that - soap?"
"Nope, just cayenne pepper." Charlie grinned.

Spence wiped his mouth and leaned his elbows on the table, staring up at bartender.
"Did you make a New Years resolution, Charlie?"
"Yup - to hire a new bouncer. Moe couldn't pitch a flea out of a dog pound." the bartender growled, indicating the scrawny man in the corner of the bar with a flick of his finger.

Spence smiled tiredly.
"Yeah, well... I made one that I would hammer at the guys upstairs till they gave me a promotion. I work for MI5, you know."
"MI5 - should you be telling me that?" Charlie demanded in a whisper, looking around the bar quickly.

Spence watched him with a slight smile and then said "It isn't really a secret."
"I walked right up there and told Gary 'I want a promotion, Gary.'"
"And he just looked at me and said 'You got it.'"
Charlie shrugged. "What's so bad about that?"

"I ended up eating those words..."


"See, Gary hadn't told me he was promoting me to a new division - of MI6 no less."
"Which one?" Charlie asked eagerly, wiping a glass off without looking at it - his eyes fixed on Spence.

"The Special Ops department! Heck - I didn't know anything about that!
I've been working the smaller cases for most of my time there."

"When I reported to the director of that department, I got another shock."
"He tells me 'Son, we've checked over your record, and - '"

Spence interrupted himself to tell Charlie "You see, I was in the British Army for a few years - fought in a couple small wars against IRA patriots."

Charlie nodded thoughtfully as he pulled several bottles of ale off the back shelf.
"Yeah, I was over there for a while too." he broke off suddenly. "What else did he say?"

"Well, he tells me they need a new man for the Foreign Espionage team. At that point I knew I'd made a huge mistake."
"So they put you on a case?" Charlie asked.
"Yes, they did."
Spence scooted his stool closer to the bar and lowered his voice.

"Apparently, IRA partisans had stolen a file with the names of several dozen MI6 agents, and kidnapped everyone on the list. It happened so fast that the first thing MI6 knew about it was when they received a call from the kidnappers."

Spence traced a finger around the scar running through his chin unconsciously as he talked.
"The man behind the operation was rumored to be Tommy O'Dale - some IRA terrorist MI6 has been watching for a while."

Charlie nodded grimly. "Yeah, I've heard bobbies(cops) talk about O'Dale in here. He's a bad 'un."
"Well, one of the agents managed to escape. He got to HQ and gave MI6 the location of the place they were holding the other agents."

The bartender's eyes narrowed at this, but he said nothing. Spence watched him closely out of the corner of his eye, then continued.
"The agent said that Tommy O'Dale was not there, just some of his men guarding the prisoners. MI6 decided to raid the building, but they wanted Tommy also."

"That was where I came in."
"You?" Charlie asked.
"Yeah - they wanted me to take down Tommy O'Dale. The agent had heard two of his men give away his location while they were talking."

"And did you?"
"Not yet." Spence sipped the last from his lager and set it down.
He pulled a silenced Walther PPK out of his coat and set it on the bar.

Charlie looked down at it and then raised his eyes to Spence.
Spence stared coldly back at him, his hand clenched around the pistol.

"You know who I am." Charlie said emotionlessly. It was more of a statement than a question.
"Thomas Charles O'Day." Spence nodded.
His voice hardened.
"You see - my real New Year's resolution was to kill the worthless scum that murdered my parents."
"You."

He raised the PPK, pointing the muzzle at Tommy's chest.
"I don't really work for MI5, you know."
Tommy nodded, his eyes probing Spence's face.
"I swore over my parents' grave that I'd get you - as a boy of nineteen."
"Every year since then, I've made a resolution - to kill you. Every year - I've broken that resolution. You've always slipped out of my grasp."

The muzzle of the PPK jabbed Tommy's stomach.
"Until now..."

Tommy smiled broadly. "Go ahead, Spence. Kill me. Shoot me down." he invited, extending his arms.
Spence's finger tightened on the trigger.
"Pull it - pull it." Tommy urged. "You'll only become a murderer - just like me."

Suddenly Spence lowered the pistol.
"You're right, Tommy. I can't kill you. Now turn around." he ordered.
The bartender slowly turned.

Spence pulled out his cell-phone and called the police.
He got no further than hello when the bouncer grabbed him around the neck and began choking him.

"Uhhh.. UHhh!" Spence gasped for breath, fighting to get away.
Tommy raced out the back door as the two struggled.

Bashing his head into Moe's face, Spence shook him loose and then kicked him in the chin, knocking the bouncer into a table.
"Call the police!" Spence shouted to a woman sitting at the bar as he whipped up his PPK and charged out the door after Tommy.

He looked around, up and down the street. Nothing.
A black Audi raced past him with Tommy at the wheel. He looked at Spence as he drove past.

Raising the PPK, Spence took careful aim at the back tyres and fired once - twice - three times.
The Audi swerved around the corner and was gone.

Spence controlled his urge to swear and quickly ran back to the bar, where Moe was beginning to regain consciousness.
"Ah-ah-ah." he said, shoving him back onto the floor.

Several policemen rushed in and grabbed Moe, hustling him out to the Paddy wagon.
Spence sat down on his bar stool and flicked the cork out of a bottle of ale, pouring himself a glass.
"Well - looks like I broke this year's resolution." he muttered, staring at the glass of brown liquid in his hand.
"Oh well. There's always next year..."

 

[dorkelf]

I enjoyed this Lazarus, and I hope you'll consider editing it down to 500 words so it can be an official contest entry.

The highlight of your story was when Charlie turned out to be Tommy. That was definitely a very cool surprise! I also liked Tommy's escape. It is a 'flaw' of your main character that he had a soft-spot and that he failed to take Tommy out, which is great - flaws are what make great characters. However, I thought the 'you'll be just like me if you kill me' premise is a little weak as well as cliche. I think it would be better if there was some better, more interesting reason why he couldn't pull the trigger. I'd also like to see Tommy say or do something really cool to escape his scheduled execution, and I'd also like a little more justification for wanting Tommy to get the bullet. As it stands it didn't bother me much as the reader that he got away.

One more little thing - sometimes your sentence structure makes it hard for me to know which character is doing the speaking. Its not a big deal but it can sometimes interfere with the flow of my reading and make me have to read backwards a little to figure it out.

Now, I know I'm asking for a lot with these critiques, especially since I'm also asking you to cut the story down to 500 words or less! I hope you'll try editing it though - but if not I hope you'll still find the comments useful.

Paul

 

[dorkelf]

This is my own work, so I'm posting it as a non-entry. It is supernatural fiction involving a magic spell and has a violent act, so please don't read it if those things offend or bother you.



“Ten!”

It had come down to the countdown, the actual countdown. She stood in the middle of a crowd that swarmed around a large manmade Christmas tree, which towered over a glitzy shopping mall. Large red and gold ornament bulbs on the tree’s branches reflected street lights, neon signs, camera flashes and the faces of men, ladies and children. But not her face. Never hers.

“Nine!”

It was all going to be over. Everything. The world, the universe. For her, nothing would continue. That was the entire purpose of the spell.

“Eight!”

Without her, the world would be forever rid of the hidden menace. There would be no possibility that any more of her kind could ever exist again. Her kind, which had worked so hard for centuries to obscure and fictionalize its existence, would ironically become actual fiction. The last of its reality in the world – she, the last Vampyr - would snap out of existence with the coming of the new year. The spell for accomplishing this had taken a half-century to research and put together. More difficult had been the task of genocide. But in that, she’d had help.

“Seven!”

Nobody would ever know of the Vampyr who had fallen in love with the world and forsaken her own. All who had known her – the others, and the hunter – were gone.

“Six!”

She thought of him, at the end. He’d been a cold, callous killer of killers. And not too bad either, for a human.

“Five!”

But then he was actually standing there, across from her, next to the tree. It was as if he’d just emerged from her mind’s eye. He was leaning against a lamp post, facing her. His eyes were hidden by dark glasses, but she knew he was looking at her.

Was it a vision? Hallucination? Vampyrs knew neither experience, but powerful spells often had strange side-effects.

“Four!”

He didn’t move, didn’t speak, but he was there. Actually there! How could he even be alive?

“Three!”

It caught her animal-sharp eye then, the golden ornament that was reflecting the lamp post in its glass. The lamp post, but not him.

“Two!”

There was no time to consider why he’d come. There was no time for love, or hate, or optimism, or pessimism. There was only time for a single fact: If she left him standing there and the spell finished, she would be gone and he would not.

“One!”

She leapt high and was falling towards him, the stake aimed at his chest. He did not move. But he did smile.

There was a bright, brilliant flash as the stake slammed into his chest. Not a word, not a scream. He dissolved into light.

A large neon ‘Happy New Year’ sign flickered to life over the crowd and cheering erupted. Everyone had been intensely fixated on the sign. Nobody had noticed what happened.

The backlashed energy from the spell, broken by the other Vampyr’s death, slammed into her then, and all was darkness.

 

[Lazarus]

Entry #2 - "Sometimes things don't turn out the way we expected."

Spence Gordon slid into the quiet British pub and sat down on a bar stool. “The usual, Charlie.” he said to the bartender.
"Here you go." the bartender said as he handed Spence his usual, a lager beer.
"Ah - thanks."
Spence took a swig and sputtered.
"What do you put in that - soap?"

“He puts strychnine in it.” another patron of the bar said, his eyes twinkling.
“Hello, Fitz.” Spence said, nodding to him.
“Still at your secret agent work, Spence?”
“Righto.”

Spence wiped his mouth and leaned his elbows on the bar, staring up at the bartender.
"Did you make a New-years resolution, Charlie?"
"Yup - to hire a new bouncer. Moe couldn't pitch a flea out of a dog pound." the bartender growled.
“I made one that I would stop picking up stray hounds.” Mr. Fitzhugh commented.

"Mine was that I would find this IRA terrorist: Tommy O‘Dale.”
"I've heard bobbies talk about O'Dale. He's a bad 'un." the bartender responded.
“He‘s a ruthless terrorist.” Spence said grimly. “Bombings - robberies - kidnappings.”

"But we finally caught up with him.”
“How?” Charlie asked curiously, polishing a glass.

“Well, three MI6 agents were kidnapped in Belfast several days ago.”
"One of the agents escaped and phoned MI6 the location of the place he’d been held.”
"The man behind the operation was Tommy O'Dale."

"We went in - captured the whole bunch. One of his men talked - told us where Tommy was hiding out...”

He pulled a silenced Walther PPK out of his jacket and set it on the bar.

Charlie looked down at it and then raised his eyes to Spence.
Spence stared coldly back at him.
“Hello - Tommy.”
“You aren’t with MI6, are you?” Charlie-Tommy asked.
Spence shook his head. “Nope - I’m an assassin. A little girl got paralyzed by one of your bombs. That little girl’s father happens to be very rich - and very angry too.”

Mr. Fitzhugh watched the two men with appraising eyes over his glass of wine.

“Now I’m afraid I’ll have to kill you.” Spence told Tommy, raising his gun.

“Can I have your lager?” Mr. Fitzhugh asked, reaching for it.
“Get your hands away from that!” Spence said irritably, slapping his hand with the PPK.

As Spence turned towards the old man, Tommy quickly ran out the back door.
“He’s getting away!” Fitzhugh yelled.
The assassin dashed out, his gun raised. Behind him Fitzhugh gulped down the lager.

A black Audi raced past Spence with Tommy at the wheel.

He took careful aim at the back tyres and fired once - twice - three times.

He missed.

The Audi swerved around a corner and was gone.
Tucking the PPK into his coat, Spence ground his teeth in a silent snarl of rage.
“Well, you did it.” Mr. Fitzhugh said, walking up beside him.
“Did what?” Spence snapped.
“You broke your New-years resolution. Cheers!” and with that the old man tipped his hat and walked away.

 

[dorkelf]

Nice work Lazarus. Though it can be painful and difficult to cut and edit, it really improved your story. Don't you agree?

I liked the ending better in particular, it was nicely humorous in a dry way. And I had no problem this time understanding which character was speaking, so good improvement there too. The only change I didn't like was the antagonist's very weird invocation of latin - its a nice line but I don't know whether to think this guy is a psycho megalomaniac or maybe a superhero. Maybe the latter, because he was apparently able to act with lightning speed to upturn a bar before your protagonist could pull the trigger - and your story makes it pretty clear that his finger is right on the trigger. So I just don't know how your antagonist manages to pull down the whole bar before the trigger is squeezed. I hope I'm not sounding picky by bringing that up, but I think a small bit of work on that part of your story would really be a great idea, if you can find the time to do it. The work you've already done is great though, tons of improvement and I greatly appreciate it.

Paul

 

[Lazarus]

Edited again. Any problems this time around?

Btw, I read your story. T'was very cool, although the whole thing is rather mysterious.

 

[dorkelf]

Edited again. Any problems this time around?

Why yes...now where do I begin?

Just kidding! This is a GREAT revision. The climactic confrontation is PERFECT now, it is absolutely hilarious! Now aren't you glad I encouraged you to revise it?

Paul

 

[Lazarus]

When I first saw that, I thought "Uh-oh - what'd I do wrong?". A moment later I was breathing a huge sigh of relief

Thank you for the critiquing.

 

[dorkelf]

I always love it when people post poetry and I enjoyed reading this poem. I think in many ways poetry is really a much greater challenge than prose, for many reasons. The general advice (which I will probably soon post to the advice column) is that you really have to know exactly what you want to say and what mood you want to create before you start to write a poem. Otherwise, as you write you will get sidetracked into non-relevant or trite/overused phrases for the sake of making things rhyme. In the case of this poem, I felt that it had some very good moments but it didn't seem quite as cohesive or unified as I like to see in poetry, and it did have phrases that in my opinion are a bit overrused - or at least, they don't have enough specific meaning in your particular poem. I don't mean any of that to sound as if this poem badly written, because it isn't, but just like a story a poem needs to draw the reader in quickly, present the reader with some drama or mystery, and then leave the reader feeling as if something important or interesting or insightful was discovered by the end. Its very hard to do that in prose, but I think even harder in poetry. I hope the author finds that helpful, and again I'm thankful for the depth and variety that this poetry brings to the writing contest.

Paul

Today, yes today I make an honest vow
To bring yesterday, yes yesterday right up to now
To bring in a new year without all the strife
To bring change, new change in this solemn life

I will face forward, my eyes towards the light
Determined to adhere to the purest of fights
I can’t run away from the days left behind
Never will I cry or bring shame to my mind

Struggles ahead but I must keep my sight
Ahead is my future so I must keep in the light
Trials and errors ahead I know I must face
But failure of course is every mortal’s fate

My vow is to keep the light for all to see
But light leaves a shadow, a shadow of me
Where darkness will hide yes hide its ugly face
Affecting the heart yet always it leaves a trace

So boldly I go, I go forward towards the light
I face forward determined to change my life
Fearful and humble, unworthy is what I am
Knowing now why I am here and why I am

For light I see, yes I see is straight before me
For it’s not me, no not me I want others to see
Reaching deep, so very deep within my soul
It’s changing my heart to be good, good as gold

Yes today I will make this my only vow you see
But the light is shining, shining brightly for me
I know, yes I know it is one that I will break
For light that is shining is shining for my sake

A past full of darkness, yes darkness terrible in sight
But today, yes today I will stand strong in the light
So I vow never, never be afraid of what I might see
Unafraid of the shadow, yes, the shadow that is
Behind me

 

[Lazarus]

I'd like to propose cutting the length of these things in half(the time, I mean) - so maybe 15 days. Hasn't been any activity for around ten days, and I'm not psychic but I don't foresee much more.

 

[dorkelf]

Maybe a two-week timeframe would be best, with a third week for votes. We'll try that for the next assignment. Thanks for the suggestion.

Paul

 

[tjguitarz]

I've got an entry. The thought just hit me now. Will be entering it later tonight or tomorrow.

 

[dorkelf]

Cool, thanks for bumping this topic too, some folks might not realize the contest is still going on. For those of you who haven't yet entered, there is still time!

Your critiques are needed too and your votes after 1/27! Please support the writing contest in every way you can! Good luck to all contestants!

Paul

 

[tjguitarz]

Here she is. I didn't have as much time as I would have liked. I just started work and I'm not getting a lot of sleep. Let me know what you think!





... click... click click...

"1,000 channels and nothing to watch..." My stomach groaned. I was in the mood for a sandwich.

I tossed the controller on the coffee table and headed toward the kitchen. Quiet words suddenly whispered through the speakers. "... it can even cut thru a brick!"

I turned my head in awe. "No way..." Sure enough, an elderly woman was using the Miracle Blade Mark IV to saw through a brick. "I've got to have that." The scene changed to a baby cutting tiny slivers off a piece of steak... juicy, medium-rare steak. My mouth watered. I immediately knew that finely crafted piece of metal had to be mine.

Darting across the room, I tripped over my 'Thighmaster' and 'The Magic Bullet' to get to my 'Limited Edition Harley Davidson Telephone.' Putting the hog to my ear, my finger met the first authentic chrome button before I realized what was happening.

"STOP!" I shouted. Nervous sweat dripped from my forehead. "No, I can't. I made a resolution. No more paid programming..." I turned to run away from the TV, but the paper-thin tomato slices were calling my name. In frustration I knelt in front of the boobtube and screamed, "WHY DO YOU HATE ME!"

Hate isn't in our vocabulary. We just want you to be happy. A once in a lifetime chance to cook like a real chef!

I knew the talking blade was right. It was a once in a lifetime chance -- not sold in stores. I could almost feel the perfect grip around my fingers. "But, I can't. I made a New Year's Resolution. No more spending my money on things I see on TV."

Resolutions are made to be broken.

"I just need time to think about it." I felt embarrassed. This was like turning down the lottery.

What is there to think about?

I got up again and walked into my kitchen. As if by magic, knives, cutting boards, and vegetables of all types began singing and dancing around my kitchen like a scene from Beauty and the Beast. They were singing "Who Let the Dogs Out?"

It didn't take long for me to freak out. Racing out of my house, I knocked down the door with the noise of a flashbang. My neighbor came outside to see what was wrong.

"My knives, they're..." I gulped, "singing..." My eyes felt dry.

"Come inside. I'll make you a cup of joe and we can talk." I followed the old man and his 'Gilligan's Island Pajamas' and he sat me in the kitchen. After opening a few cupboards, he harrumphed. "I think I have more coffee in the basement. I'll be right back."

As soon as he disappeared, I heard it. "...icle Blade Mark IV for only 8 easy payments of $49.95!" My hand grasped the phone. My fingers pushed the keys. 3 weeks later I had a new set of knives.

 

[Lazarus]

That story was hilarious, TJ.

 

[tjguitarz]

Haha, thanks Lazarus. I really liked your story too. The end was brilliant.

 

[dorkelf]

Here she is. I didn't have as much time as I would have liked. I just started work and I'm not getting a lot of sleep. Let me know what you think!

I really enjoyed this, I thought it was conceptually brilliant and darkly humorous. Particularly, this

"STOP!" I shouted. Nervous sweat dripped from my forehead. "No, I can't. I made a resolution. No more paid programming..." I turned to run away from the TV, but the paper-thin tomato slices were calling my name. In frustration I knelt in front of the boobtube and screamed, "WHY DO YOU HATE ME!"

Hate isn't in our vocabulary. We just want you to be happy...

was really a spine chilling moment for me, very effective. However this

"My knives, they're..." I gulped, "singing..." My eyes felt dry.

seemed maybe a little awkward in wording and silly, and also I thought the last sentence

3 weeks later I had a new set of knives.

was unnecessary (we know what's going to happen when he dials) and also too predictable. Would be nice to have some kind of twist at the end.

Great work, one of the more effective and interesting stories I've seen in the contest. Thanks for entering and good luck!

Paul

 

[Lazarus]

We can't vote for ourselves, right?

(Yeah... obviously)