Weekly Story Contest Group discussion
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Contest 2/27/10 - 3/6/10
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Well, way back when, I believe we judged on:*Fitting the theme
*Within the word limits
*Grammar/Spelling
*Overall thoughts of the story
This is all information that the voters will have to take note of. Since this is a voting contest.
Nice to see you here Katrina!
Mod
Mod
Yes, I thought we would start with a shorter story to ease us back into it.
Okay, so since I can't write a new one this week, I thought I'd post one I've already written if that's okay. Its a little long *cough* like double the word count *hack* but its better than not submitting, I think.
ChangesThe warm rays of the sun broke through the bathroom window, warming Kay’s bare back. She stood in front of the mirror, examining herself – the dark round birth mark on the right side of her chest, her belly button that looked more like a horizontal oval than a circle, the scar on her hip from an accident on her bicycle as a child – imperfections that had always been there, but looked especially harsh in the morning light. Bolder, perhaps, but not different.
Balancing herself on the fuzzy, white toilet seat cover, Kay reached into the shower and twisted the bronze hot water knob. A squeal of pulsing water fell from the shower head. Kay sighed. She hated showering in the morning. It was a break from her normal routine that meant waking up at least an hour earlier to allow time to blow dry her long, thick hair (which took about as much time as a full time job) and then tame the resulting frizz. She would have skipped the shower all together under normal circumstances, but she just needed to.
When the steam had clouded the small bathroom, Kay stepped into the stream, flinching as the nearly scalding water pricked her back like a thousand white hot needles. It needed to be hot – burn her if necessary – so that only one shower would do the trick. She scrubbed for nearly half an hour, taking extra time to clean parts of her body that she wouldn’t have thought twice about before – her palms, soles of her feet, and the back of her neck. Every inch of her body from her chin down was covered in a thick foam of cucumber scented soap. She rinsed, but it wasn’t having the effect she wanted. She considered lathering up again, but she would be late.
She turned off the water and wrapped herself in a towel which was slightly damp from the water that escaped the shield of the vinyl curtain. Kay wiped a small circle at the center of the mirror to examine herself one more time before getting dressed.
Still no difference.
Her clothes were laid out across the bed, which she had yet to make up. The quilt was rumpled and a corner of the fitted sheet had come off. The comforter and a few pillows were scattered on the floor. Instead of picking them up, she kicked them out of the way with more force than was necessary. Kay dressed quickly in black slacks and a diminutive turtleneck. She threw her damp hair up and didn’t bother with the extra effort of accessorizing.
Before walking out the door, Kay stopped at the small, oval mirror hung in the foyer. Thinking better of it, she pulled the clip out of her hair, letting her bangs fall in her face. She adjusted the mirror – which was straight to begin with – and left, slamming the front door behind her.
Kay’s desk was exactly the way she had left it on Friday – files were tucked neatly in grey cabinets, her inbox was empty, the desk itself was dust and stray-paper free – except for the sticky note stuck haphazardly on her computer screen. She recognized the writing from a distance. See me, it read, in Sam’s – Mr. Richards’ – clumsy handwriting. For a moment, she could only stare at it. Just “see me.” No signature, like he knew that she would know it was from him, even if she hadn’t been typing his hand-written meeting minutes for the last year. She pulled open her top file drawer that she kept empty and put her purse inside. She ripped the note from the screen and examined the back, unsure of what she was hoping for. An explanation, maybe? But it was blank. Kay crumpled the note and threw it in the trash.
She stopped at Mr. Richards’ office door. It was closed, and she couldn’t hear any voices coming from inside. She raised her hand, hesitated, then knocked twice softly.
“Come in,” he commanded.
Kay walked in silently and closed the door behind her.
He kept his eyes on his computer screen. “Good morning, Kay.”
She suddenly became frustratingly aware of her hands and how awkward and unnatural they felt dangling at her sides. “Good morning, Sam.” Kay said. He didn’t look any different. His black hair was combed perfectly, with special attention paid to the gray-flecked hair around his ears.
Mr. Richards – Sam – closed his eyes in a long blink and his facial muscles tensed. He pulled a piece of paper off the printer tray on his desk and held it out for her without so much as glancing in her direction. “You can take care of this for me, right?” he asked.
Kay looked over the page. “This is a florist.”
“I wrote the inscription for the card at the bottom.”
She looked back at the page. In the same clumsy handwriting was – To Victoria. Happy Anniversary. Sam.
“For your wife,” Kay said in a lowered tone, unable to look up from the page.
His lips tightened into a thin line, then he sighed. “Yes. You can use the corporate card.”
Kay opened her mouth, like she wanted to say something, but nothing came out. Her words were trapped in her throat.
Sam didn’t say anything at first. He continued to stare, his eyes fixed at one spot on the computer screen.
Kay took a step forward. “Sam, I – “
“That will be all,” he said, and turned his chair away from her.
Her knees seemed to give out, and she barely caught herself before collapsing. She gripped the door handle for support as she struggled to command her legs to move. With each step, a crippling nausea grew stronger, forcing its way up.
Kay leaned over the bathroom sink with the florist’s information clenched in her hand and her dinner oozing down the drain. She swished some water in her mouth, spit, then looked in the mirror. It was there now – that difference. It shadowed her face and hunched her shoulders.
Jennifer, the fiscal assistant, was waiting her desk when she returned. Kay handed her the florist’s information. Jennifer had been in charge of the corporate card for the past year. Sam knew that – he was the one who hired her.
Kay left the bed unmade and slept on the couch that night.
Mod
I've been so busy, I can't possibly fit in a story this week. I'm sorry all.
Mod
End Date: March 6, 2010
WC Range: 300-600 words
Theme: The Olympics
Judge: Voters
Judged on: The usual.
Have fun and please participate if you are able!