Weekly Short Stories Contest and Company! discussion
Games!
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Haiku
Lol! :D M, I like how you refer to me as Woozle. :D I wish I could be a hero, but alas, I am just a normal girl. :(Al, thanks for adding the tutu part. :D
Did everyone have a good Christmas?
We had a nice Christmas! Very relaxed.Han, what a great profile pic! I had no idea you all had drawn comics. I loved comics (especially horror comics) when I was a kid. I still think of my writing as comic-book style--a series of pictures that tells a story.
Alex, tomorrow morning I’ll work on something to follow up what you wrote tonight. So, you don’t want her to stomp him, huh? Ah, well.
I can stomp anyone I want. ;)And thanks, M! My profile pic is of me fighting off a zombie invasion. ;D
Alex, I have no excuse. I simply couldn’t resist.Miss Hanzle Woozle
grabbed Frank by the tie and shook
him as though he were
a rag doll. “Oh, don’t
hurt him!” she heard her sister
Alex cry, but then
Hanzle stuck Frank’s head
through one wall then another
then sent him flying
through shattering plate
glass, in the direction of
Arnie’s Laundromat.
“That’s that!” she flicked dust
off her uniform, then smiled
at Alex. “His pants
smelled a little rank.”
Watching the soaring figure,
Woozle waved, “Loves, Frank!”
Al shook her finger
at Han, whose actions had seemed
to irritate her.
“Missy, how dare you mess
up my man!” Her eyes blazed. “I’ll
talk to you later.”
“I really hate to
leave this scene,” Han snapped. “I know
you meant Thank you.” Then,
as she vanished in
a flash of green, “Some of us
have homework to do.”
Meanwhile, a couple
of blocks away, Putnam was
far more bruised than clean.
“Great way to start the
day,” he moaned, climbing out of
a washing machine.
M, I don't know how you captured my personality so well! ;D Sometimes I feel scared for Al and her obsession with Frank. I'd love to kick his butt! :D
Need him??? Oh, how pathetic! ;D
People had hit thefloor when Frank had plummeted
through the old skylight.
Nothing like that had
happened before. They wondered
if he was all right.
Grizzled and pointing,
an old man said, “That one was
a real humdinger!”
His eyes wild and red,
Putnam looked as though he’d been
put through the wringer.
“Just wait,” he muttered,
stepping down on the tile. “Just
wait till I catch her,”
he coughed and spluttered
with an evil smile, “that uni-
corn dispatcher!”
“You’ll be just fine, dear,”Al assured him as he staggered
past parking meters,
his gaunt reflection
haggard in a pawn shop win-
dow (old egg beaters
vied for space with a
small tape recorder, wigs, hats,
and a steamer trunk).
Something about him
was out of order now. He
sauntered as though drunk,
muttering curses
on his foes, especially
Miss Hanzle Woozle,
shivering in his
dripping clothes, his shoes sloshing,
as such long shoes’ll.
Poor Frank! If he was dangerous before, imagine what he’s going to be like when he gets over this.
XD oh Al. You love your bad boys too much. Btw, this poem is epic.
XD Yes, yes he did. I could not write something as cool as that, ever. lol.
You two are far too nice! I love writing old-style verse. To me, it’s like working a puzzle. The more of it you write, the easier it gets. I think you two do pretty well!“Why did you slap his
face?” Alex’s dark eyes flashed.
“Look how bad he’s hurt!”
A bold “W”
on her shirt, Han sighed, “I’ve got
other mice to chase.”
My attempt.She took off into
The bright blue sky; arms outstretched
In the pose to fly.
Al stood and watched
Anger written on her face,
And she stalked away.
Putnam followed her,
Eagerly, and without grace,
Plotting in his mind.
This is very nice, Kat! The rhyme is just right, the writing flows, and it advances the story in a way that makes it easy to follow.I had written this and tacked it onto the end of the other one. I apologize for that. I’ll stick it here as a footnote.
Han zoomed away as
easily as though she were
a bottle rocket.
Frank wondered if there
might be any aspirin
in his pants pocket.
XD Thats funny. Thanks, M :) I think your's fits really good at the end of mine.
It’ll be interesting to see what Alex comes up with . . .
teeeheee, thats funny. I almost like the alternate version better...in fact, I think I do like it better. XD
I can’t tell what’s going on. Are they dancing in the streets or are they tumbling the sheets or is Frank at home by himself, bruised and mad and lonesome?
The really interesting part of all this is what’s going on in the writer’s life. She writes a couple of stanzas, then, “Hold on, someone’s at the door.” Who is it? She writes a couple more stanzas, then, “Yeah, don’t ask.” Imagine a whole series of installments that add up to a running narrative, but the real story is what’s going on behind the scenes.Okay, give me a few minutes to come up with something.
hmmmm, interesting. I wonder if it's a psychological thing XD
There were muffled soundsfrom beyond the bedroom door
of Frank’s swank penthouse.
“Oh, ow!” a man’s voice
growled. “Don’t be such a baby!”
a woman’s voice soothed.
“Ow!” A lid was dropped.
“You’re banged up,” Al said, rubbing
gingerly. “Is there
any place on you
that isn’t dark blue and sore?”
Putnam groaned, “Not now,
not anymore, thanks
to--” There was a sharp rapping
at the window pane.
Frank started. “What’s that?”
Sighing, “’Tis some visitor,”
Alex rolled over,
setting the ointment
beside the bed. “We’re on the
sixth floor!” Putnam roared
as the girl pulled on
a bathrobe and went to the
draped casement, fuming:
“Who it is I think
I know, and I don’t think it’s
Edgar Allan Poe!”
Nice photo, Kat! Somebody had to lie flat on the ground to take that one.
Thank you, Al. I'm not actually photogenic...it was just a good day XD They are my senior pictures. Acutally, M, I had to climb a haystack XD
That could be handy to know, Kat. Thank you.
I love it! He “was all a snoozle.” That’s one of the best lines so far.I went back and patched on the one I posted, but it still isn’t very good. I’ll try to do better.
“Hiram,” Ethel said,“what are you looking at?” He
turned from the window
and shook his balding
head. “I honestly don’t know.
It’s green and has dark
hair and is flying
in mad circles around that
building over there.”
I assumed Woozle has dark hair and that her superhero costume is green. I guess Hiram will learn not to be so curious!I’d better go wash dishes before my boss gets home. I hope you and all ye other pirates who happen to be aboard the W.S.S. have a great Friday night!
XD great writing guys XDstud muffin XD
Delilah-like, shecut off his hair, knowing it
would only grow back;
nor could she have said
why she was there, or why she
had--she had lost track
of stray hours spent
finding ways to be with him,
for it was almost
as though he were part
of the lone windings of her
mind, an unquiet ghost,
outwardly despised,
secretly cherished--his shrewd,
dark way of knowing
sentenced, in her, to
have perished, but for the lush
hair she was strowing
on the sheets. His hair
was his power, his fine suits,
his surgical gloves
but his appearance.
Cars passed. The streets were littered
with what-if’s, what-of’s,
as she shook with rage,
abhorring him, and glanced out
at the darkened sky,
then dropped the scissors,
stricken, adoring him. She
couldn’t have said why.
Thanks, Alex!I can’t help but wonder if Putnam is such a difficult character precisely because he has so much to offer in the way of characteristics that you naturally find attractive. There’s some reason he’s the kind of character you can’t simply take or leave--some reason you don’t find him easy to write off.
Thanks, Kat! I hope you don’t mind, but I thought I’d explore Hiram’s side of the story a little.The library had
high windows. Hiram went in
through the double doors.
The librarian
looked down her nose as Hiram
crossed the polished floors.
Her finger had no
wedding band, he noticed as
he followed her to
an alcove with a
carved bookstand, through shadows that
almost swallowed her.
“Here’s the book,” she turned
around. “It’s New Year’s Eve. At
five thirty we close.”
In dust, a leather-
bound Unidentified Fly-
ing Superheroes
lay open, the page
heading, Mystic Seals. “You’ll find
what you need, I trust.”
There was the echo
of her heels, then the moment
he had been dreading.
Hiram, combatting
a reflex to run, began
his slow perusal
of a vast, cryptic
index, looking for a name:
Miss Hanzle Woozle.
Weekly Short Stories Contest and Company!
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