Exercise

So, went to a writing exercise session at the convention I attended last week. Here’s what came out of it.

Frankly, it’s a miracle there’s anything here. Friday was not a good day for a number of things that aren’t fodder for discussion here. But still I went and worked.

Each of these were delivered in about a ten-minute span with a small break between, prompted by a variety of calls from the instructor.

—

Writing exercises -inspired by Vylar Kaftan at FOG-CON 2015

 

 

Three words: Greek, gross, wallflower

 

“Never date Greek,” she told me. Her lips pulled back so hard in disgust that I could see the teeth behind them.

I gulped more of my drink, too much sugar, not enough lime. It was a margarita in name only. “Don’t worry,” I said as I dropped the glass. Ice tumbled out in a sticky scatter on the table. “Don’t worry about me.”

The clatter of the glass caught Marcie’s attention this time. She pulled her fingers back from the spill. “You okay, honey? You hit that hard.”

“It hit me hard,” I replied. Almost as hard as the gross and greasy lunch was now. Tasty yet toxic. I considered another drink but let the thought slip away.

“You drink fast for a wallflower,” Marcie said. There was judgment behind it, flat and toneless.

“I have my reasons. And I’m not a wallflower. Just that I don’t like people too much.”

“So that’s why you’re asking for advice.”

“No. I was asking for you to give me a reason to keep slogging through all the walking left-swipes walking around campus.”

“You’re still mad about Ciro.” She caught herself, blue eyes flashing wide for a second when she realized what she’d said. “I’m sorry Tul.” Her lip wound over itself as she reached for something else to say. “But you know I’m right.”

Lunch bricked in my stomach and the lime and sugar boiled at the back of my throat. Of course she was right about it but that wasn’t what I wanted to hear.

 

—

 

Woke in the dark, hungry, cold. No food in sight. Nothing in sight. Submarine green and falling to opaque mist with only the rocks and rubble breaking the short horizon line.

Hungry.

Old one rose behind me, not thinking of food or anything else other than his precious words, promises that he never saw fit to keep.

Go, move. The gods demand it. His speech came without sound, through gesture and bending sinew. Fingers dancing in front of the weak light he carried, a green-glowed she’ll nearly as big as his fist. He pointed finally, reaching upwards.

Today was the day. No more hunger, he promised.

I believed him though I knew that there was nothing to build that belief on.

We watched and waited. The shifting blue above us rippled and patterned like the bellies of faraway fish, but offered nothing. Then I saw it. It started as a distant point and then grew, resolving itself into a familiar shape.

It was a fish, a large one, big enough to feed me for a week. I leaped, thinking not of the others but myself, throwing my hands out at it, lunging forward and biting.

And then I felt the carcass bite back. The fish was long dead, tasting of decay already, but but the time I understood what was happening, I was being pulled up, up, up.

 

—

 

“Tim, stay behind,” Mr. Rone said. He’d waited until Tim was almost to the door.

Tim froze and his shoulders bowed.

“I really don’t have time, Mr. Rone.”

“This will only take a minute. Honest.”

“Honest?” The question hung sharply in the moment.

“When have I not been?”

Tim nodded and swallowed. “Is this about me being late today? It won’t happen again.”

Mr. Rone sat at the edge of his desk. “I’m worried that you’re not taking this class seriously enough.” He rifled though the stack of recently collected papers without looking up.

“I don’t know how you can say that. I mean, I turn in all my work, and I’m mostly on time.”

“Mostly.”

“Today was a mistake,” Tim said.

“How big a mistake?” Rone’s eyes flicked up now, searching the youth.

Tim’s fingers wrung the strap of the backpack hanging on his shoulder. He swayed at the doorway, maybe thinking of stepping through it. “Pretty big.”

“I don’t think so. But there are others who would see it differently.”

“It was the wrong thing to do. It won’t happen again.”

“Don’t be so tough on yourself.”

(This one got cut off worse than most due to time, sadly. Hey, do better and come up with the situation and characters and write it all in ten minutes. Go ahead.)

 

—

 

Reyna’s heart rattle-spun in her chest now.

Only fifty feet.

The smoke from a nearby fire drifted between her and the car, but not enough to hide it. She wished for more smoke to cover her movement. Praying hadn’t ever changed anything so she didn’t waste her breath.

Something shuffled behind her now, followed by the metallic thud of a can hitting the concrete bodega floor. Then there was a gurgling sound that was almost a question.

One behind and how many outside now? How many that she couldn’t see?

She didn’t care. The one behind would smell through the chemicals soon enough. It would find her here. Maybe the car would start and maybe it wouldn’t. She couldn’t see a reason for it to have stopped.

Footsteps now, on the roof and behind. One, she could hide from for a few moments more, but two or five? She counted the steps in her mind as she saw the shadows moving on the far side of the alley. The silver huyndai with the open door waited.

She flung herself out the alley door, hearing the crash of shelves behind her and something babbling underneath that. Two steps in and she heard the snuffle of recognition and she kept running until she crossed the open space.

 

—

 

Mani sat down in the corner of the white cube, almost shrugging as she did.

Kent slammed his open palm on the glasslike window that wasn’t glass at all. “You can’t keep me here! I’ll have you up on charges.”

Mani laughed silently but Kent sensed the ridicule and glared. “What’s so funny, bitch?”

“You. You’re thinking that anyone in power here cares.”

Kent knew that she wasn’t speaking English but he heard it anyways. Anger burned in his face and he pointed. “The presentation is in two hours and if I’m not there to direct, my hopeless fucking staff will do nothing but fuck it up. The account will be lost and everything will go down in flames!”

“That’s a shame. I was thinking that if I am not returned that my daughter will not eat.”

(This one only got six or seven minutes and might’ve gotten somewhere.)