Thursday, February 28, 2013

Week 5 fanficflashfic

Last week's winner, @hummingbirdFF, has picked her prompt for this week's #fanficflashfic, and it's a great one.

Here it is:

Prime Circle's "Breathing."

There's a lot of writing inspiration here: the song, the clip, the title, the music, the lyrics (which I'll post as the first comment). 

It doesn't matter what inspires you, just write whatever you feel.

Remember to check the rules. 

Have your 100 - 200 words submitted by 11:59pm Thursday, EST.

We want anything and everything: poetry, prose, fanfic, OF. 


Leave your entry as a comment - include your word count, and your twitter handle if you have one.

FYI - entries that exceed (or are under) the word limits will not be considered by the judge.

Sunday, February 24, 2013

sexy flash fic?

There are a few other flash fiction thingies happening around the traps that I like to try my hand at, and this week, I won Rebecca Grace Allen's Sinful Sunday Flash Fiction

Which means... I got to pic this week's prompts, and I'll be judging the entries.

So... why not point your browsers over there and participate?! 

Write some sexy flash fiction for me!

Friday, February 22, 2013

week 4 winners!

I asked this week's judge, @BedeliaJane, a few of my random questions ...

1. What is the best piece of writing advice you’ve been given? 
I can't remember who told me to turn off my internal editor for the first draft and just WRITE, but I love him/her. It means I finish stories instead of deleting the words as soon as I type them. I need time away from a story in order to see it clearly when I start hacking away at the parts that don't fit.

2. The first and last books you fell in love with?

The first book was probably Pippi Longstocking by Astrid Lindgren. I remember going crazy over that one. As a kid, I spent quite a bit of time trying to make my pigtails stick out and trying to lift a horse. Never worked. :( The last book was The Fault in Our Stars by John Green. 

3. What's happening outside the nearest window?

Not a lot, aside from a bunch of pigeons picking at a sandwich. And the sunset.

4. If you could delete one word from the English language, which one would it be?

"Folds" when describing female genitalia. DELETED (I clearly read too much fic).

5. Suppose you could travel to any place in time and history. When and where are you going?

Oh, gosh. I don't know! Would I be impervious to disease in this scenario? If not, would I at least have the opportunity to get vaccines before I left the present? I would worry about dying of smallpox or something. Would I have to be concerned about changing history and messing up the present while I'm there? Could I kill Hitler? Am I over-thinking this? Hmm. If changing the past isn't allowed and I might find myself at the mercy of the doctors in whatever time I choose, then maybe... 1996. I was 14 then, and I read once that the music you loved when you were that age is the music that leaves you feeling the most nostalgic when you hear it as an adult (that might be utter crap, but I think it's probably true for me). I would go see all of the bands I loved back then and bask in the '90s-ness of it all. And then, if it was allowed, I'd find a way to tell my teenage self, "Hey, I promise it gets better."

And now ...

Here's what Bedelia had to say about the entries ...

Ooh, such pretty words. I love how everyone incorporated the prompt in ways I didn't expect. So much so that I joked on Twitter about naming one first place entry and sixteen honorable mentions. ;)

Eeeeee. This is difficult. I've never judged anything like this before. Okay. I can make a decision. Yes.



I kept coming back to this one again and again. Author. AUTHOR. If I knew your name I would call you by your first and middle, just so you knew you were in trouble for hurting my heart. Except you aren't in trouble, really. This was so simple and beautiful, and I love your interpretation of "moments that look suspiciously like ordinary life."

Eyes open.

The early morning light makes the dust motes flicker across the sheets.

Eyes close.

Eyes open.

The phone rings faintly somewhere in the living room, but I don’t get out of bed.

Eyes close.

Eyes open.

I see you through the bathroom doorway. You’re shaving. Your eyes catch mine in the mirror, so you give me a crooked smile and a wink.

Eyes close.

Eyes open.

You toss the damp towel towards the laundry basket, but it lands on the floor.

Eyes close.

Eyes open.

You’re putting on a crisp, white button-up with that ridiculous tie I got you for Christmas. It always makes me giggle. My breath hitches.

Eyes close.

Eyes open.

You tie your shoelaces with your foot propped up on my favourite chair. Your only response to my stern glare is to blow me a kiss.

Eyes close.

Eyes open.

You button your cuffs as you walk towards the bed to kiss me goodbye.

Eyes close.

I hold my breath. Waiting. My kiss never comes.

Eyes open.

The room is empty. No towel on the floor. No shoe impression on the chair.

The lone, black dress hanging against our dresser mocks my memories.

Eyes close.


I could feel and hear and see everything in this one. The author managed to fit so much into so few words. Just lovely.

The tines of a fork.

Soapy water and wrinkled, pink fingers.

A plate; the sponge around, around, the front, the back.


The orange glow of dwindling sun shines bright through the kitchen window, rays of golden yellow casting shapes across the countertop.

A coffee cup; inside, outside, the lipstick from the rim.

The minutes feel like hours, one slipping slowly into the next, and the next, like the drip, drip, drip of a leaky tap.

Soap suds hiss and crackle beneath my fingers.

Another plate; the sponge around, around, the front, the back.


A memory of soft white silk and crisp black cuffs drifts into my mind making me sigh. I think of love-lit eyes and smile-sore cheeks; the sound of the tinkling of silverware against a champagne glass, the feel of lips against mine, smiling through a kiss.

An entire lifetime of love promised in just one day.

A blink of an eye and that day is over, and the promise begins to take shape.

Car keys against the countertop.

Lips against my bare shoulder, long fingers brush my arm softly.

“Long day?”

I smile, turning my head as his lips warm my cheek.

“Mm-hm. Too long.”


Another one I kept coming back to. The snapshots of life were beautifully done. And characterization in just 200 words! "He doesn't tell me he loves me anyway." I feel like I know the dad, just from that.

It was a bright, blue-sky day. I was driving to the store to get my wife some pickles. I thought it was just a stereotype, pregnant women and pickles. I made a left turn and saw it.
It’s my first Little League game. I catch a long fly ball and give it to my mom in the stands. She smiles, and I feel like I won the game.
I’m thirteen. I get lost in the woods on a hike, and shiver through the night.
I’m kissing Julie Christiansen at junior prom. She lets me touch her boobs in the backseat of my dad’s car.
I’m failing O-Chem. I tell my father I don’t want to be a doctor. He doesn’t tell me he loves me anyway.
A freshman in ENG2102 snarks the professor, and I ask her for coffee. We date. We fall in love. She walks towards me in shimmering white. We make love. It’s glorious.
We’re watching her first sonogram. That peanut is our baby. Our baby. Its little heart goes thrum-thrum-thrum. I whisper ‘I love you’ over and over to my wife’s belly.
I made a left turn and saw it. A semi slams into my car.


I look forward to seeing the prompt you choose for next week's #fanficflashfic.

Thank you to Bedelia for judging, and to everyone who participated!

See you next week.

Thursday, February 21, 2013

week 4 fanficflashfic

Are you ready to write?!

Last week's winner, @BedeliaJane has selected a fantastic prompt to get you writing.

Here it is:

You don't have to include the prompt verbatim, just let it guide your writing.

Remember to check the rules. 

Have your 100 - 200 words submitted by 11:59pm Thursday, EST.

We want anything and everything: poetry, prose, fanfic, OF. 


Leave your entry as a comment - include your word count, and your twitter handle if you have one.

FYI - entries that exceed (or are under) the word limits will not be considered by the judge.

Friday, February 15, 2013

week 3 winners!

Say hello to this week's judge, @quietdrabble! I asked her a few of my silly (and not-so-silly) questions ...

1. Best piece of writing advice ever given: Read everything you can get your hot little hands on and write everyday. Don’t over think it, just write the words and inspiration will come. I forget where I read it, but it has stuck with me and proved to be most helpful.

2. The first book I ever fell in love with was The Fourteen Bears in Summer and Winter (I was about five). I still adore it and read it to my own kids. My most recent treasure was a bit more racy than the innocent playful bears. The Stranger by Kyra Davis captivated me from line one, and I can’t wait for the next installment due out sometime in March. Delicious read! 

3. The last movie I saw was this crazy short put out by HBO titled Picture Paris, It was a bizarre mix of romance, real life, subtitles and dark comedy. My hubs recorded it (not knowing the woman chops her husband up and makes pâté out of his heart, which he rightly deserved, near the end) thinking it would be a fun movie to watch while we shared our morning coffee. Needles to say It was an interesting way to begin our morning, and hubs has sworn off pâté. LOL

4. Right now I am smelling the scent of my light hand lotion, freshly applied, I keep at my desk. It’s called ‘pure grace’ and the title says it all. 

5. If I had a super power it would be something akin to speed reading. Where I could pick up the book and absorb the words in seconds. Though I guess that would be a bit self-serving, but at least I could barrel through my TBR list. I am interested in so many different things it would be fantastic if I could read about them all more quickly. 

Here's what @quietdrabble had to say about this weeks entries ...

Oh my goodness! It was really difficult to choose, but here is what I came up with.

Thank you all for sharing your beautiful words so freely. I enjoyed reading each entry, and it amazes me how we all envision different things from a single picture. The task to choose a winner was a difficult one indeed.



This story sucked me in immediately and said so much with so few words. Lovely words.

We were superheroes in black bikinis. With night-chilled grass under our feet, we crept into her neighbor’s yard and commandeered his pool. The water felt like it belonged in December, but we didn’t care. Giggling shrieks died in our throats as we danced on tiptoes and dared each other to go under.

She always went first, yanking me along for the ride. Before I could catch my breath from the icy shock, her lips found mine. Wrapping my arms around her, I forgot I’d ever been cold.

Tree branches cradled us as we dried, swathed in terry cloth almost as rough as their bark. I whispered secrets I didn’t want even the leaves to overhear. She greeted every skeleton from my closet with a smile.

When the sun rose, we collapsed on her bed, bruised and dizzy and laughing, like the way I loved her. Sleep found us in the breaths between kisses—in the heartbeat between the first day of summer and the last.

Back then, I thought she could fly. I thought we were invincible. Clues rained down, but my chlorine-stung eyes saw the sun.

I didn’t know she was drowning.



The knowing acceptance inside this story is what spoke to me. Well done.

Overpowering all of her senses, the water-filled, glass coffin enshrouds her reality. Before succumbing back to the darkness, she quickly rethinks the last hour.

She knew the date was a bad idea. All her instincts told her Riley would twist this evening into heartache, yet she was tired of spending another night alone on the couch. Before her roommate had taken off, she had warned her to stay in crowded locations, to drive herself, and to watch out for the killer. Bree didn’t see anything wrong with the guy picking her up on the first date, and the intimate dinner Riley said he had prepared sounded like the perfect way to get to know him better.

Nothing appeared out of the ordinary to Bree as they entered; it looked like a typical bachelor pad. Therefore, the feel of something covering her mouth as she slipped out of her jacket took her by surprise.

Waking up as the water covered her completely and the lid was sealed in place, she grasped that she was the next victim.

As the last bubble escapes her lungs and the blackness covers her vision, Bree accepts that she should have listened to her roommate.



Sadly, this was over the 200 word limit, but this story gave me chills and deserved recognition. Beautifully written.

Cradled in porcelain and buried under a thick blanket of almond-scented water, I lay naked and motionless. Basking in the comfort and tranquility that this open prison with its narrow walls and burning heat offered me.

This was my retreat, the one spot I'd come to whenever I needed to escape reality; my safe haven.

There was no screaming or yelling.

There were no barely covered whispers or obvious stares.

There was no darkness. No harshness, either.

Neither hurt nor pain. No strike or slap or kick or touch or word could reach me here. Me and my flesh, all bruised and maimed,we were safe here.

There was no weight; everything and everyone was weightless.

Here, in this tub, this locked room, there was everything I yearned for there to be outside of my bubble.

The tightness in my lungs signaled me that I had to come for air again soon. I didn't want to go back, but rather stay here for ever, instead.

I could.

It would be easy. I just had to get out of the tub and bathroom, down the hall and into my own. Stashed away under a loose wooden board beside my bed I would find all I'd need. My mute salvation ingested, I would walk back, re-lock the door and dive back under my safety blanket.


Just...not today.


I look forward to seeing the prompt you choose for next week's #fanficflashfic!

Thank you to quietdrabble for our prompt and for judging!

And thank you to everyone who participated!


P.S. Lovely writers, I've been a little lenient on word counts this week. In future, please be aware the word limits are 100-200 words. Entries over 200 words won't be passed on to the judge. Thanks, Shell x

Thursday, February 14, 2013

week 3 fanficflashfic

Last week's winner, @quietdrabble has selected our prompt, and it's another absolutely gorgeous picture to inspire you!

Here it is: 

Remember to check the rules, and have your 200 words submitted by 11:59pm Thursday, EST.

We want anything and everything: poetry, prose, fanfic, OF. 

Just give us your words!

Leave your entry as a comment - include your word count, and your twitter handle if you have one.

Friday, February 8, 2013

week #2 winners!

Let's get to know this week's judge, @DarlingVeruca before she announces her winner.

1. Best piece of writing advice you’ve been given? It came recently, actually, and by a completely unexpected source. He told me to write what I want. Very basic and certainly stated before, but when it's said directly to you it sort of means a little more.

2. The first and last books you fell in love with? I hated reading as a kid, so I'll give you the title of the book read over and over with my daughter: The Lorax. The most recent book I fell in love with would have to be The Fault in Our Stars by John Green. I've read several since discovering it, but this is the one that's stuck with me the most.

3. You can teleport. Where's the first place you'd go? New York City, 1920's.

4. What are you listening to right now? Literally? Pencils scratching who knows what across paper.  But the song in my head is Radioactive by Imagine Dragons.

5. It's midnight, and you're hungry. What are you going to snack on? A Reese's Peanut Butter Cup two-pack.

Here's what Veruca had to say about the entries. Like last week, I pasted them all into a google doc without names and twitter handles attached.

I didn’t know what to expect when I emailed Shell this pic prompt, but wow, the words were brought. It was honestly a very, very tough decision, because you all are so talented.

And the winners are ...

1st Place: @quietdrabble

I kept going back to this one, and each time it read more powerfully. It drew me in from the beginning, but the blatant ending just hit it home. I would love to read more about him.

She cut.

I saw below her flesh, I saw beneath the self inflicted wounds of loathing she couldn't seem to control. I saw the colors she could not see, the chartreuse and tangerine she emitted. I saw her beauty in a way she showed no one else, the beauty she eagerly wanted to rid herself of. The beauty she desperately hated, the beauty she cut deeply into.

And I mainlined.

We both had our pains, our pasts filled with anguish and abuse. She was strong, but I was weak. She wanted to feel the steady control and I wanted to hide. I didn't want the pain and she craved it.

"The assignment today, class. Look at the picture. Write what you feel. Two hundred words or less."

The memory of her flowing, raw beauty is all I have left. She cut too deep, and I was high.

She felt the pain, and I was wasted.

I stared at the picture, my hand quivering with trepidation over the words I wanted to write. I grasped the pen until my hand shook, willing the nerve. I took a deep, steadying breath and wrote a single word on the crisp white page:


2nd Place: @katiewinkles

This one was really beautifully written. I loved how the prompt was used, how color and music were intertwined. Every part of this was so vivid.

To her, music has always been colour.

Sometimes it’s pretty pale pinks and sunshine yellows to match the soft, lilting, whimsical notes.

Sometimes it’s dark and deep; crimson and inky blues weaving into her subconscious like a honey-laden voice, or the pulse of a kick drum.

Sometimes it’s dark purple like a healing bruise; colours that sink deep beneath her ribs, cutting, burning, aching with each longing word or heartbroken syllable.

Sometimes it’s flashes of bright purple and red; glitchy, twitchy, pitch-shifty stuff that makes the colour pop and fizz like bubbles through her vision.

Today it floats through her subconscious like wave after wave of vivid colour, splashing across the back of her eyelids in swirls of bright green and orange; a cacophony, a riot, an explosion of colour to match the snap and bang of the snare, and the heart racing, feet moving, body twirling noise inside her ears.

She likes to imagine it seeping into her cheeks, staining them pink, or into the green of her eyes and red of her lips.

A constant friend, the music is what keeps her heart beating and feeds her soul. For her, there is no colour in life without music. 

Honourable Mentions
What I liked about this one was the sweet nostalgia, but in the end, how the narrator chose to live in the present. The nod to Joni Mitchell, though, nicely done.

I hadn’t listened to my old LPs in years. I’d found a dusty box full as I was clearing out dad’s old house. I gazed on the worn album covers each a musical memory. Lastly, came the one with a stylized drawing of a musing girl with flowers for eyes, vines for hair and too many pink-nailed fingers. The record had been a gift from a young man who had been my world for a time.

Fortunately, the old stereo hadn’t yet been sold or given away and soon Joni’s bell-like voice filled the emptied house. Her music transported me to a honeyed time as I remembered the slam of lockers, the giggles of friends, and the thrill of a secretly passed note. Then, there were the shy glances of a bashful boy, his nervous, stuttered invitation, a knot of carnations on my wrist, his warm fingers entangled with mine, and a soft, trembling kiss upon my lips.

“I really don’t know love at all,” she sang.

Enough. I packed the album away with the others, taped the box shut and wrote across the top: Give Away.

The past was much better left undisturbed. 


Such pretty, poetic words even though it was a painful piece. I want to know how she got to where she is. Love that this one made references to classic music as well.

And she dreams. And dreams. She has lost herself to the images of psychedelic love and peace and understanding and… and… she doesn’t know where she is anymore. The voice that usually anchors her is gone. 

Moments ago, a harsh voice joined her anchor’s voice, and it was spitting out hateful words, hissing and cussing, and then, a cracking sound, like the Earth being ripped apart.

A whiff of terrible, heavy smoke, something that turns the colors in her dream into black ashes. 

The friendly voice is gone, and now she is alone. Not even the angry voice is there anymore.

Her mind keeps trying to come back into the now, back into the room in which she knows she must be sitting, the one where she exists also for other people. Where the ink on her skin matches the lines in her mind.

And in her dream there is a tune playing in the background, an old Rolling Stones song. The music is soft and it culls her, takes care of her. She doesn’t need to do anything at all, today. Nor ever again. She is safe inside her head.

She comes in colors everywhere. She combs her hair.

This one was stunning. This line: Scorched by the chant trapped there. Gorgeous.

I used to hear feet stomping over my head. Now I only hear thunder. I used to smell the grass underneath me. Now I feel the pitch and roll, like an earthquake. Like an ocean.

She used to have hair, long and dark. It used to be still.

I would reach out, touch her. If I could. If I wasn’t immobilized by the weight of all this sound. Oppressed. I can move my eyes. The blood in my veins. My heart wringing itself dry.

And I think I’m smiling.

“You are smiling.”

She can read my mind. Maybe I’m speaking out loud.

My mouth used to taste like LSD. Now it tastes like lightning. Scorched by the chant trapped there.

Cougars! Fight! Cougars! Win!

I used to play.

She nods. Feathers and flowers. Birdsong. Her skin is my fortune teller. My future is made of rainbows. Her voice is a formerly undiscovered country.

She used to wear a mask. Color in bloom is her true face.

There used to be something real beyond the bleachers above me. Now there is only sky.

I used to have hands. Now I have wings.

I used to be me. Now I can fly.

Congratulations @quietdrabble!

I can't wait to see what you pick for our prompt next week.

Thank you to @DarlingVeruca for judging, and to everyone who participated!