Showing posts with label short story. Show all posts
Showing posts with label short story. Show all posts

Sunday, April 17, 2011

New Plot! Jumping to Heights, Short Story

Well, this is a plot that I dreamed of a few days ago, and I finally finished writing it down! Whoo! Well, here it is:
Jumping the Heights: A minor prince whose mother was a maid, and grew up disgraced, decides to go fight for a neighboring princess’s heart. He fights, and then wins against a lot of creatures and people attacking the one country. He wins, and then is going to present himself to the princess, who he’s loved from a distance. But then more people start to come, and he starts to fight them. But then he kills one of them, something he’s never done before. And thus he awakens the curse between the 2 countries. His altitude is now how high the sun is going to be. He starts jumping, and starts to build his leg muscles, so that the days could be longer, and he could spend more time away from the love, for they will never be together, this is a curse forever, and it’s all sad. 5 centuries later, the descendents of the girl is in his home country, and he sees her. And falls in love with her, too. Then there are some issues with him not being able to be with her-can she break the curse?

I also finished a short story, called To Life:


Stone crackled, and stretched. A low groan made its way out of the stone lips as they slowly became flesh and blood.
The creature stirred as it came to life, and took in its surroundings.
It was just as it had been this morning, but for the night that was now invading his every sense, the dark that was his day, the light, his night.
As he started to feel his sense of self emerge, he remembered his duties and responsibilities.
Because of course the humans wouldn’t expect a statue to come to life, and patrol the grounds, it had to be during the night.
Which was perfect for him-he only came to life at night. 
He started with the customary prowl through the master’s room, checking that he was where he was supposed to be, if he was in any harm, etc.
He wasn’t, but he also wasn’t alone, and Statue didn’t want to see something untoward, and with the moans coming from the room, he gratefully backed away when he saw the inconspicuous “please leave alone as I’m entertaining lady friends” in the form of a vase.
A very special vase indeed. It made sure that Statue couldn’t cross the threshold of the master’s bedroom.
Thank god! Statue didn’t want to have to see something that was denied to him as he was what he was.
What he was, he didn’t know. All he knew, is what it made him do.
Next was the patrol of the rest of the house, since the master was secure.
Room after room he moved, almost invisible in speed, just an almost transparent blur if you were looking for it.
Since nobody knew about him, nobody would be looking.
Which made him the perfect body/house guard.
He tasted the air on an inhale, and let it out when it told him that only 2 people were in the house, and only the butler, and the cook had been in the house since last night.
Once he was sure that there was nothing different with the house since the previous day, he headed out to patrol the grounds.
At first, there was nothing of concern.
Then he started to hear a clicking, something that was not an insect or animal. It was man made.
Someone was trying to break in.
He scowled at the impertinence of whoever it was, but then smiled at something new to do.
He quickly made his way over to where a group of 3 teenaged boys were standing, holding a bizarre box that was emitting the clicking sounds.
Statue didn’t know what it was, but he didn’t particularly care. It was disrupting the night, helping these boys who were on a prank, most likely, and Statue didn’t like that.
He darted in and picked up the device from the boy’s hand, and zipped over to a nearby tree, and smashed the object against the trunk while the boys looked up at the gush of wind, before the looked at the crumpled remains of the box where Statue had dropped it before darting away.
The boys looked at each other, they’d heard the stories surrounding the Westward Manor.
As a group, they ran away.
From a short distance away, Statue watched them till they were out of sight, on their ways home.
There, a job well done.
All was well. He felt his identity slipping away. It was readying to go back to sleep.
And just like the day before, and the day before that, to days unknown stretching back to the past, it settled into its spot, and went to sleep as the sun rose into the sky.

Yep :) Hope you guys like it :)

Thursday, March 31, 2011

I Finished!

Well, I just told you about this short story yesterday.
But still. I just finished it today, just 10 min ago, actually. It is 1.6k right now, and most of it is very rough, seeing as I wrote it on WoD, 1k in 10 min, well, it doesn't get spelled very well if it's me.
Anyway's, here's the last edited sentence of Creeping Down Your Street:
Better watch out for me. I just might creep down your street in the dead of night.

I will post the whole story when I finish editing it, so probably tomorrow :)
Now you guys better write!

Wednesday, March 30, 2011

Update of March Hint Fic (Creep Down Your Street)

Here's an update on my short story of the month, CDYS: It's now over the WC of the words that made up it's prompt. It might still be just under 200 words, but that's progress, right? I just need to get it to 1k, and then I can finish it :) Can't wait for that :) hehe :)
But here's what I have of it so far
*NOTE* There is some harsh content, with a prositute addict mother, and a bitter child*
:
This boy catches balls, divides fractions, won’t die if he drinks milk, grabs flags off the other team’s players. My dad loves this other boy.
Me, he’ll hate the day I die. It’s nothing personal against me-it’s against my mom.
She was the addict.
She was the one that got pregnant with me, and then saddled me with him, another child to take care of, in addition to the kid already had with his wife.
Yep, that’s right.
I’m a bastard child of a prostitute who was hired to take care of him. But still.
I’m not bitter. Honest. I just wish I had a baseball bat (and was healthy enough to be able to hold it) and some personal alone time with her, that’s all I’m asking for.
Unfortunately, I won’t get either thing.
For one, since she was a junkie addict who used her “jobs” to pay for her crack and coke and all other sorts of drugs, and kept doing that even after she became pregnant