Posts Tagged ‘excerpt’ Archive

The Door Swung Open…

It’s time for Rachael Harrie’s first campaigner challenge! The challenge is to write a piece of flash fiction in 200 words or less. The first words need to be, “The door swung open.” For an additional challenge, include the words, “The door swung shut,” at the end. AND for an even greater challenge, make your story exactly 200 words (yes, yes I did this). 😉

If you like my piece, head on over to Rach’s site and ‘Like’ my entry, #39!

Monster

The door swung open and Magnolia-Rose stared into her dark closet where a purple fuzzy animal sat.

“Aren’t you supposed to be under my bed?” Maggie asked.

“I…uh…”

“You’re supposed to be under my bed.” Maggie stomped her feet. “You’re the monster, I’m the little girl and you’re supposed to scare me.”

Grrump whimpered.

“I know you like the closet. I know it’s roomy and you like sleeping on my dirty clothes, but my closet is not where you’re supposed to spend the night.”

Grrump unrolled. His body lengthened until he stood twice as high as Maggie. A white horn protruded from between two red and black eyes.

“Go,” Maggie poked Grrump in the belly and pointed toward the bed. “Go do your job.”

Grrump moo-ed and wobbled toward the bed. His flat feet crunched over blocks scattered across the ground. Bending down, he began to slide under the bed until his horn stuck against the bed-frame. “Too big,” he said.

“But you have to fit.” Maggie gripped the closet door.

The spikes on Grrump’s back swung as he made his way across the room to huddle on top of Maggie’s dirty clothes.

Maggie screamed and the door swung shut.

Flash Fiction Anyone?

This is taken from a potential character from a potential book.  The inspiration for her came from my reactions after a car accident a year and a half ago.  Thankfully, her fear is much more exaggerated than mine was.

Second Guesses

I pause.  My hand wavers over the four sailboat hooks beside my front door.  The yellow hook has a hat hanging from it and the blue one has my spare car key on a heart shaped key ring dangling from its tail.  This leaves the red and white hook.  My stomach quivers and threatens to upset.

Will someone die if I hang it on the white hook?

No, that’s ridiculous.

But a car accident, that’s possible.

The keys slip on my sweaty fingers.  I fight with the muscles in my arm so it slides over an inch to hover before the red hook.  Red for love.

But white for the Holy Spirit.

I slam the keys down on the white hook and take a step back, only to immediately come forward again, lift the keys from the hook, flip them around, and place them backwards on the sailboat.  I think for a moment and then turn them back again.  Air catches in my throat as I breath in.

Safe, safe, safe.  My mantra slides across my vision.

With a frustrated growl, I propel myself through the hall, away from the keys, and throw my shoes from my feet.  One lands tipped sideways against the wall.

Shoes don’t like sitting like that.

Using my toes, I rearrange the shoes so they sit beside one another nicely.  Five pairs of shoes line the hall, each one sits beside the next equally spaced apart and perfectly arranged.  Hiding behind a closet in the hall is a cardboard box filled with a tumbling pile of shoes I seldom wear.

I fill the green cup in the bathroom with cold water and let its coolness slide down my throat.  Setting it down, I twist it so its square edge lines up perfectly against the sink.  Pausing, I stare at the cup and then inch it closer to the toothbrush holder, waiting for the moment when it will feel right.  I move it back the inch.

It never feels right.

Safe, safe, safe.  I stare at my reflection as I think these words.  My fists clench suddenly so fingernails scratch into my skin.  The pain brings me back into my body and out of my mind.

The water I drank sits heavily in my stomach and I sit down on the toilet as if the water weighs me down.  My back curves, hands fold into lap, knees tuck inward and I pray I never have to move again.

I want to stay here where I am safe from my nervous fear.  Thoughts bounce between my ears and clamber together so loudly I fear my neighbors will ask why I make such a racket.

I forgot to get milk.

Haltingly, I stand and hobble back to the front door.

Who will die?

Someone will get hurt.

Your car will get smooshed by a truck.

“Stop!”  My voice sounds pathetically quiet compared to the words in my head.  “Safe, safe, safe.”  I say out loud to make sure I have actually thought, and said them.  I need it to be true.

Closing my eyes, I breathe deeply.  Air fills my belly, lungs, and throat.  Sharp pain pulls at my ribs.  Without looking, I lift the keys and walk out the door, ignoring the second guesses in my head.

The First 312 Words

Gabi Lessa is having a fabulous contest on her blog in honor of her birthday!

Here are the rules if you’d like to join!

  1. Visit her blog to sign up for the contest. You have until noon on Saturday, March 12th, to sign up.
  2. The contest is open for everyone. You can enter either a finished manuscript or a work in progress.
  3. Post the first 312 words of your manuscript on your blog. Just the first 312! It doesn’t matter if it ends mid-sentence, that’s ok. But please be sure to count! 312 words, not one more, not one less!
  4. When you post your entry, post your title, your genre and your manuscript’s status (finished or in progress).

So…here’s Rupert!

TitleRupert Reginald Robinson, the ninth & the House Next Door
GenreMiddle Grade
StatusWIP
First 312 Words:

Rupert Reginald Robinson clutched a thick book to his chest, his forehead rested against the glass of the backseat car window.  The car bumped across the road.  His head slid to a new place and left a smudge of grease on the glass.

“Ouch,” he said as his head whacked against the glass for a third time.  He released his book and rubbed his forehead with two fingers.

In his left hand he gripped a baseball.  The ball was worn and frayed as if a dog had chewed on the red bindings.  As the car bounced down the road the ball rotated around, his fingers moved methodically so the ball was always in motion.

Rupert placed his head back against the glass and looked out onto the street.  At the corner stood Bobby.

Bobby was the school bully.  A small grey rat rode on his shoulder.  This rat was his favorite form of torture.  Bobby would hide it in kids’ lockers to scare them.  He scowled when he saw Rupert spying him through the glass.

“Aunt Miriam?”  Rupert asked and looked up to the front seat.

“Hmm?”  Miriam kept her eyes on the road.

“Are we almost there?”

“No Rupert, we are not almost there.  Do not ask again.”

Rupert turned back to stare out the window.

Beside him, his cousin sat in a booster seat playing with dolls.  She hummed quietly to herself as the dolls clicked against each other.  Rupert could hear her lips moving as she silently talked to herself

“Mom? Are we there yet?” Delilah asked absentmindedly.

“We’ll be there in just a few minutes, sweetie.”  Miriam said and reached back to pat her daughter on the knee.

Rupert rolled his eyes.

The car came to a halt in their driveway and Delilah began to squirm in her seat.  She quickly dropped both her dolls to the car…