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FSF / 100WCGU: “Hope in You” [Fearless]

It’s a double-whammy this week, as I’m incorporating both Julia’s 100-Word Challenge for Grown Ups (week 57) prompt of “…returning to the routine…” and Lillie McFerrin’s Five Sentence Fiction prompt “AWKWARD” into the same post. Actually, it’s a triple whammy, since I’m also using Monday’s Fearless post to coincide.

To catch you up, Julia’s 100-Word Challenge for Grown-Ups gives writers a phrase or picture prompt, and we have 100 words (give or take; see the link for details) to write a story around it. Lillie’s Five-Sentence Fiction gives a one-word prompt, and we’re to write a flash fiction piece, consisting of only five sentences, that corresponds to said prompt.

I didn’t think I’d be able to participate at all this time around, as my schedule has been so hectic…but the pieces just fell together right, for me. (Maybe you disagree.)

“Hope In You”

By Zelda F. Scott (Own work) [GFDL (http://www.gnu.org/copyleft/fdl.html) or CC-BY-SA-3.0-2.5-2.0-1.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)], via Wikimedia Commons

The bar turned slick beneath her hands, and her arms quivered all the way to her shoulders as her foot slid over the mat. It wasn’t from any thought or impulse, though, but mere weight, and that more than any pain or effort made the tears well.

Graceful, darling dancer: she’d never be that again, not if simply returning to the routine of standing on her dumb, labouring legs was this hard.

Spitting a plea for rest (and hating herself for it), she transferred to the chair, feeling weak, broken, hopeless.

Until she thought of him, and his smile, and pushed herself up again.

Julia’s prompt is a bit easier to recognize, here, than Lillie’s is, but hopefully you can see how I related this to both.

What awkwardness – or return to routine – did you describe, this time around?

Five Sentence Fiction: “What It’s Not” [Fearless]

The prompt for this week’s Five Sentence Fiction from Lillie McFerrin is MEMORIES.

Once again (and keeping with my posting schedule), I’m using it to tackle some backstory for Fearless. Part of this is an effort to get back on-track…and part of it is because I think the conflict is an interesting one to examine.

“What It’s Not”

At four, he simply hadn’t known; “love” was but the smell of Christmas roast filling the kitchen, or cold ice cream sliding down his throat, or the rush of seawater between his toes.

By the time he was twelve, he’d come to understand it a bit more, though still not very much: Mum’s warm embrace, and his sisters’ gentle teasing; the joy of rolling waves to ride, and the blow of ocean air against his face.

By sixteen, though, he knew, he understood, even if he wished he didn’t. Because love like in stories was glorious and loud, full of honesty and trust, not hushed and hidden and kept secret in his breast, whispered only to the wind and the soft goose feathers stuffed in his pillow; it wasn’t a wicked laugh and a crooked smile, nor the shine of golden hair and sun-drenched flesh stretched beside him in the sand day after day. It was Antony and Cleopatra, Tristan and Isolde, Paolo and Francesca…not this, not them, not him: Neville, and the beautiful, oblivious boy who filled his dreams.

A bit of a tortured Neville, here, but teenagers tend to be filled with angst.

What MEMORIES did you take a look at, this week?

Five Sentence Fiction: “No Girls Allowed”

FACES” was the prompt for this week’s Five Sentence Fiction challenge, from Lillie McFerrin’s blog. We don’t have to use the word itself, just write five sentences with that word as inspiration.

My original entry was much more based within a fandom, much more referential and trying to be clever. So is this one…though, I prefer it over the original.

For all those parents who think they have any kind of control over what their children do….

“No Girls Allowed”

Larry’s only criterion was that he wanted a boy; he even had a name in mind: Thor, after the Norse god of thunder, a childhood heroic fantasy figure (though he’d accept Loki, if the personality fit).

Not to say he didn’t love his girls (and, here, he included Sally, even if he’d never call his feisty, gorgeous wife a “girl” to her face) – he loved them more than anything, in fact – but being the only man in a house with three women took its toll; there were only so many evenings he could spend with Elton, shooting 2D zombies, or with Tom, feigning interest in a single man’s problems, or with Craig, faking his way through a conversation of last night’s football match. He wanted to connect with a male who’d understand him, who’d let him be himself; he didn’t think that was too much to ask.

So, when he’d arrived home again after a two-day stint working the dealers’ room at another convention, and his girls had met him at the door with too-wide, cagy grins, asking him to “keep an open mind, don’t get upset, Daddy, please,” he’d known something was amiss, and was ready to give them an earful.

But, then, they’d pulled out that wobbly-legged, round-faced, chocolate-coloured bundle of fluff, that looked up at him with those dark, trusting eyes and that snub, twitching nose, and that happy, proud smile that promised loyalty and interest no matter how mundane, married, or how much of a geek he was…and all he could say around his creeping smile was, “I guess we can call her Sif.”

By Ltshears (Own work) [CC-BY-SA-3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0) or GFDL (http://www.gnu.org/copyleft/fdl.html)], via Wikimedia Commons

Good old Sif.

When I think about Larry and Sif, I always think of my own father and our family dog, Muffet. There was some pushback, at first, from our father, at having yet another girl in the house…but, he couldn’t find a more unconditionally loyal and loving companion than that dog.

As much as I enjoy writing for a lot of these prompt challenges…I really have to stop jumping on them so readily, and concentrate on my own work-in-progress novel. I love Ross and Amber too much to let them simply simmer, while I play in other people’s ponds.

That said, what FACES do you like examining?

Five Sentence Fiction: “Education” [Fearless]

The prompt for this week’s Five Sentence Fiction from Lillie McFerrin’s blog is BLUSH, and I’m using it for a little bit of a side story for Fearless.

In all my stories, I like to play around with gender roles in character relationships. Most of my characters follow pretty traditional roles, especially in my romances (there’s nothing quite like having a man who knows how to be a hero), but I also like to mix it up a bit: women can be bold hotheads; men can be tender-hearted romantics.

One interaction I always enjoy is the mentor/mentee relationship, no matter who plays which role…though my women tend to be the more cultured gender:

“Education”

This rosé was making him a bit dizzy (he was used to the clean simplicity of an ale), yet, she was still talking, perfectly normally, as though they hadn’t cleared through the bottle over the last hour.

“In America,” she said, tilting her glass back and forth in opposition to her head, “they call this type a ‘blush.’”

He blinked over at her, slowly, as he swallowed back the last, then muttered, “Why’s that?”

She settled her stemware on the table, then raised her eyes to his, and traded her cool glass for the warm angle of his cheek. “Because that’s what it makes you do,” she said with a tickled giggle, as she pushed him down to the floor, the taste of her lips sweeter than any wine.
By Neeta Lind (originally posted to Flickr as IMG_2397) [CC-BY-2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0)], via Wikimedia Commons

Ah. Nothing like letting affection ferment a bit with the bottom of a bottle…!

What gender roles do you like to observe – or disregard – in your stories?

Five Sentence Fiction: “Strangers”

Usually, I reserve my Saturday post space for discussion of the process of writing. But, this week, I had to try my hand at Lillie McFerrin’s Five Sentence Fiction, since I saw the prompt was NIGHT (2012 August 16).

Five sentences is a tricky target to tell a story. It would be relatively easy for me to craft a piece that just used semicolons anywhere there could be a period…but that’s not really how the semicolon should work. (“Don’t think of a semicolon as a strong comma,” says editor Theresa Stevens. “Think of it as a weak period.”) Thus, I wanted to use the semicolon sparingly, yet still create something fresh, and still hold to the rule of five sentences.

This one is quite flirty, though I should think not quite NSFW-worthy. As always, though, I leave you to be the judge.

“Strangers”

He’d never been propositioned in a club before (he’d never been in a club before), but the reward for such daring…! She was as he’d never known: wild, wanton, full of eager lust; the kisses started the minute they’d left the pounding, primal rhythms behind, only to be reprised -more rhythmic, more primal- not long after, in their sparse Whitechapel hotel room.

The bells tolled three before she was finally satisfied, and, while exhausting, it was wonderful.

With morning, propriety returned, as he’d known it must. But, he’d always remember playing strangers in the night, with his bold, brilliant wife.

Clarke_Ars_Erotica_18-public-domain

Ars Erotica. One of my favorites of the bunch.

So, to sort of stay on topic, what are your feelings on the use of semicolons in prose?