Sarah spotted the first of the pimples on her forearm and frowned. She has never gotten one here before. Still frowning she pinched the pimple. Sharp pain immediately burst up and down her arm, but the lump did not pop. She wiped the tears from her eyes and tried again, this time gritting her teeth against the pain. This didn't last long, however. The pain was just too intense to keep trying. She plopped down at the end of her bed and couldn't stop herself from weeping.
She absently scratched the top of her head, and more pain erupted through her. Sarah gasped and shot off her bed. She ran to the bathroom down the hall and looked in the mirror. She had to wipe tears out of her eyes before she could see anything...she wished she hadn't. Like the one on her forearm three more pimples stood on her brow, just above her left eye, one on her chin, and another on the lower lobe of her right ear, like a grotesque earring. She gaged at the sight of these and turned away from the mirror, she didn't dare inspect the top of her head. She didn't really need to anyway. She knew what she'd find up there.
Reluctantly she turned back to the mirror. Tears trickled down her cheeks. What's happening to me, she wondered. It was then she realized that the pimples didn't look like ordinary pimples. They lifted out of her skin like round, dark, decaying teeth. She stepped closer to the mirror. God, this was gross. But the more she looked the more she knew these were not pimples at all, but something else. Something worse, if that's even possible.
The skin on the tip of her nose began to ripple and wriggle, as if many tiny worms had somehow gotten inside that little nub. Absolute horror froze her where she stood. And, before her eyes, a dark lump the size of kernel of corn rose from the skin on the tip of her nose. Sarah began to tremble. Oh God, oh Jesus, she thought She found she couldn't even speak.
Here's an easy one. Just rewrite the story and add an ending. Easy as that. This is just a blueprint for an even greater story...and I can't wait to see what some of you can come up with.
Showing posts with label Variation/ Fiction. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Variation/ Fiction. Show all posts
Monday, February 26, 2007
Thursday, February 1, 2007
Of Past and Present
Well, it's a new month and I've got another variation assignment for you. God please you still remember the last one. For this one I'd like to delve into the past and present tense forms of writing. I've had a lot of problems with this in the past, somehow merging the two forms in a single sentence. I still have the problem, but now I know what to look for and and so I catch most of them before they fester there in the story.
Okay. For this variation I will write a couple paragraphs in the past tense, and the last two in the present tense. The first two will be the beginning of the story and the last two are the end of the story. Now, here's what I would like you to try. The middle of the story is missing, so I'd like you to come up with a middle. It can be in either past of present tense. OR you can do your own variation of the story; beginning, middle and end. The catch with this latter though is that you must begin the story with the present tense, switch to past for the middle and end it in the present form again. Does this seem hard? I tried to think of something fairly easy with this one, I hope you all can at least give it a try. Thanks.
Hands Under the Blankets
Past Tense Beginning:
Mary felt them as they groped and slid over the skin of her bare legs. Oh God, she thought, terrified. Oh God let them stop. Either God wasn't listening or He didn't care, because those rough hands under the blankets kept on groping and feeling. Tonight It felt like there were three of them down there, just feeling her up in silence. The problem was she couldn't move. She couldn't jump out of bed and run, because the thing under the bed would come out. And if that happened she might as well inject herself with Drain-O because surely that thing would rip her apart. The hands, although frightening and uncomfortable she could deal with. They'd be gone in an hour and then she'd go to sleep...or at least try.
If she hadn't bought this stupid bed, none of this would be happening in the first place. But it had been so beautiful sitting there in the woman's storage shed. So uniquely beautiful! The lady she bought it from said it used to be her great grandmother's, but the woman had only slept on it herself once before she stored it away in the shed. Now Mary knew why. She felt why. The reasons were cupping her calves and stroking her knees. They never went passed the knees, thank God and all his Glory. If they ever did that she just might go insane.
Present Tense Ending:
The tentacle wraps around her waist and begin dragging her back to the bed. She struggles, crying out in both pain and horror. The tentacle cinches tighter. Mary gasps and takes hold of the door jam.
"No." She pleads, crying. "No."
Tears spill down her cheeks as her fingers begin to slip on the jam. It will kill her, she knows. It'll kill her and those hands will pull her back under the blankets to continue their aimless groping. Mary begins to scream, licking her legs at the sickly thing around her waist. It's no use. And her fingers slip away from the jam.
There is a slobbery growl. Something chitters at her. The tentacle drags Mary across the floor of her bedroom, back to the bed, back to the monster under it. Her fingers dig into the carpet and her nails peel away and stick in the fabric. Mary lets out a shriek. It's going to eat her now. She knows it will. But then, as her feet are sucked under the bed, she spots something on the night stand by her bed. (The pair of scissors she used the other night to trim off a frayed thread on one of her blankets.). She grabs them, squirms and risks a glance back. Two very large green eyes peer at her from under the bed. Under the bed where her feet are. She feels something hot and wet run across their soles. Mary screams out and uses the scissors to cut the tentacle away from her waist. The creature yelps like a an injured puppy, and then begins to shriek. The tentacle slips back under the bed and Mary is free. She gets to her feet, and runs for her life.
Before she realizes it, she runs a full mile away from her house. There, along the three mile stretch of road leading to town, Mary collapses, barely able to breathe, let alone cry.
The End
I added and extra paragraph here just to make the ending more of an ending. I really hope you have fun with this.
Okay. For this variation I will write a couple paragraphs in the past tense, and the last two in the present tense. The first two will be the beginning of the story and the last two are the end of the story. Now, here's what I would like you to try. The middle of the story is missing, so I'd like you to come up with a middle. It can be in either past of present tense. OR you can do your own variation of the story; beginning, middle and end. The catch with this latter though is that you must begin the story with the present tense, switch to past for the middle and end it in the present form again. Does this seem hard? I tried to think of something fairly easy with this one, I hope you all can at least give it a try. Thanks.
Hands Under the Blankets
Past Tense Beginning:
Mary felt them as they groped and slid over the skin of her bare legs. Oh God, she thought, terrified. Oh God let them stop. Either God wasn't listening or He didn't care, because those rough hands under the blankets kept on groping and feeling. Tonight It felt like there were three of them down there, just feeling her up in silence. The problem was she couldn't move. She couldn't jump out of bed and run, because the thing under the bed would come out. And if that happened she might as well inject herself with Drain-O because surely that thing would rip her apart. The hands, although frightening and uncomfortable she could deal with. They'd be gone in an hour and then she'd go to sleep...or at least try.
If she hadn't bought this stupid bed, none of this would be happening in the first place. But it had been so beautiful sitting there in the woman's storage shed. So uniquely beautiful! The lady she bought it from said it used to be her great grandmother's, but the woman had only slept on it herself once before she stored it away in the shed. Now Mary knew why. She felt why. The reasons were cupping her calves and stroking her knees. They never went passed the knees, thank God and all his Glory. If they ever did that she just might go insane.
Present Tense Ending:
The tentacle wraps around her waist and begin dragging her back to the bed. She struggles, crying out in both pain and horror. The tentacle cinches tighter. Mary gasps and takes hold of the door jam.
"No." She pleads, crying. "No."
Tears spill down her cheeks as her fingers begin to slip on the jam. It will kill her, she knows. It'll kill her and those hands will pull her back under the blankets to continue their aimless groping. Mary begins to scream, licking her legs at the sickly thing around her waist. It's no use. And her fingers slip away from the jam.
There is a slobbery growl. Something chitters at her. The tentacle drags Mary across the floor of her bedroom, back to the bed, back to the monster under it. Her fingers dig into the carpet and her nails peel away and stick in the fabric. Mary lets out a shriek. It's going to eat her now. She knows it will. But then, as her feet are sucked under the bed, she spots something on the night stand by her bed. (The pair of scissors she used the other night to trim off a frayed thread on one of her blankets.). She grabs them, squirms and risks a glance back. Two very large green eyes peer at her from under the bed. Under the bed where her feet are. She feels something hot and wet run across their soles. Mary screams out and uses the scissors to cut the tentacle away from her waist. The creature yelps like a an injured puppy, and then begins to shriek. The tentacle slips back under the bed and Mary is free. She gets to her feet, and runs for her life.
Before she realizes it, she runs a full mile away from her house. There, along the three mile stretch of road leading to town, Mary collapses, barely able to breathe, let alone cry.
The End
I added and extra paragraph here just to make the ending more of an ending. I really hope you have fun with this.
Saturday, January 6, 2007
Variations
I've got an idea here. What if we were all to collaborate on a very short story, what would it turn out like, I wonder? Stewart Sternburg has his assignments, which are fun and enlightening. So I wonder what it would be like for all of us to collaborate and or variate for want of a better word, on this little story I came up with? I think it might be really neat to see what each person comes up with.
Okay. How this works is I provide a very small story, say no more than eight hundred words, and you can either write your own variation of the story, or you can add to mine, create an alternate ending. This is different, I know, but why not give it a try and see what comes of it? Post your variation on your blogs and let me know when your ready for me to stop by and take a gander. Here we go:
Okay. How this works is I provide a very small story, say no more than eight hundred words, and you can either write your own variation of the story, or you can add to mine, create an alternate ending. This is different, I know, but why not give it a try and see what comes of it? Post your variation on your blogs and let me know when your ready for me to stop by and take a gander. Here we go:
Chomper and Donkey
The dog emerged from the shadows, its muzzle wet and dripping with a dark liquid Donkey cared not to look at. Chomper had killed again, the mangy mutt. But Donkey knew if he said anything Chomper would definitely be angry. And what then? Would Chomper eat Donkey too? Donkey shuddered at the thought. Chomper could be a real prick when he wanted to be, Donkey had the bite marks to prove it. Not to mention his missing tail too. Chomper trotted over, grinning, blood spattering the sidewalk.
"Got'em, Donk. Good eats all aroun'." Said Chomper as he came to a stop before Donkey.
"Good fa you Chompa." Donkey said, hoping his smile was at least partially convincing.
It must have been because Chomper nodded and turned to look back at the small house he had just finished dinning in.
"Damn good eats, Donk. The man tried to trick me but I gotts him b'for he could so much as wiggle that steak at me. Dumb human."
"We betta get a move along, Chompa. Don' wanna be 'round when more humans show up." Donk said, his voice soft.
"Yeah." Chomper said and began padding down the sidewalk.
Donk followed behind Chomper, his heart trip-hammering in his furry chest. He should've never gotten hooked up with Chomper to begin with. Chomper was mean, evil almost. The mutt loved to kill people, something whick Donk didn't much like at all. Donk was a simple, usually kind hearted animal, if not a little odd looking. He knew he was ugly, but that didn't mean he was a bad a guy, did it? No. Of course it didn't. Donk just had no other friends anymore. Chomper was the only friend left, and Chomper had made damn sure of it too. Donk was a prisoner here. Chomper was the warden, and executioner. If Donk tried to leave, Chomper would kill him sure as shit out of a cows' bum.
So Donk kept his mouth shut, and followed his insane dog friend. He followed, knowing he was a prisoner, and nothing he could do, besides die, would release him from it. Chomper held him at bay with horror and terror. Tomorrow night they will come back to town. Tomorrow night Chomper will eat his meal of human flesh and so continued Donk's miserable life. How many were there in store, he wondered? Just how many could he take? The answer was simple: Not many at all.
The End
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