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Black Tulip said:
I'm thinking of putting mine up for discussion in the SDC.
*shrugs*
Not sure yet.
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Black Tulip said:I finished the story at about 4500 words. I will put it up for discussion before submitting it but I will post the first bit here. Let me know if it is interesting enough to await the rest of it. LOL
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Deer Hunting
Dawn painted the sky a faint pink tinged with orange and Lars sniffed the air. He felt fairly sure it would snow later this day, but for now the sky lighted slowly up to a pearly white with the sun a pale disc on the horizon. Spring was coming late this year, he thought, closing as he closed the flap of the tent behind him. It was nearly time to celebrate Ostara but there was no sign yet of the ice retreating from the summer plains.
At the sound of boots crunching on the frozen snow he turned his head and watched his hunting partners emerge from their own tents. Ivor, his bow across his shoulder, was still tying his pants as he stepped outside with a big grin on his broad face. No doubt he had started the day with greeting his woman in a proper way. Lars sighed and gazed at Knut. The smaller man had no woman of his own. Like Lars he had his own tent, ready to bring in a mate if they could find one, but so far they�d had no such luck.
Due to the ice still covering the plains, there hadn�t been any foraging by the women. Which meant there was no chance to catch a girl from another clan either. So the night before Lars had told his friends of his plan. He wanted to trek across the ice field to find the tents of another tribe so he and Knut could go girl hunting instead of reindeer. There was meat enough for the tribe so their contribution could be missed for a few days.
His persuasive, urgent words had easily incited Knut to go along. He was just as tired of using his hands, just like Lars. as Lars was. And Ivor was generous enough to wish his friends a mate of their own. All he asked was that they would be back for the festivities of Spring Equinox, the honoring of Ostara as the source of all life. He hoped the goddess would bless him and his mate with young if they coupled during the celebration. Lars understood all too well. Ivor had no next of kin left since his sire had been gutted by a sabretooth last summer.
Lars nodded to both men and led the way out of the small circle of tents that housed their clan. The harsh long winter had dwindled their numbers till there were only ten tents left. No more than seven hunters besides the three of them. It was too little to survive for long. Proper hunting required at least ten men so any accident would be fatal for all the clan. He and Knut needed to contribute to a new generation of hunters.
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I think it will be properly placed as first time, even though it is partly reluctance.
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Dingus Guy said:Neon, I noticed it last night too. I never saw your post last night, just stuff from months ago. Manu did offer an apology that something was being fixed. It seems to be fixed now. Anyhow, my story will be posted here later. It is short and not worthy of a submission.
CrimsonMaiden said:Yeah, I posted my story and now it's gone. I'll wait a little while longer before posting it again to see if it shows up.
(god I hate this new minimum number of characters thing with the new boards)


Black Tulip said:Dingus,
I liked your story. Very nice. There was some vagueness, could use a bit more background but overall a good read.
One odd thing, near the end you suddenly give the name of the other man.
Edited: Menage! Duhhh.![]()
caught that. Lesba, Pinkta and Menage all were names purposesly picked for the story. Darg meant nothing. Thanks ladies for your kind words. I wasn't too happy with it actually, so I probably won't submit it. The vagueness was probably due to the fact that I just wanted to wrap it up as soon as I could. Ha!

neonlyte said:here is an extract from 'Third Born', I'm going to work it up for submission possibly saving it for Earth Day because it doesn't look like I'll have much writing time between now and then.
She left the settlement a few days earlier. Each moon when the women bled they went to a separate camp in the valley, a few hundred metres from where the narrow path connecting the caves to the valley sprung clinging to the cliff face. The valley camp primarily served as a place where the old and ill waited for scavengers to relieve them of their pain and scatter their bones across the landscape. During their bleeding the women rested nearby, a clearing backed by an outcrop of rocks that shielded the fire from the inquisitive eyes of all but the most daring. She'd been dragged to the place by the Leader's older female when she'd first bled, thought she was being left to die until finding two other women already there.
At first, the place had scared her, not the bleeding, she'd grown to accept that, but the scavengers marauding nearby, baying over remains, she could hear them padding around the camp keeping back from the fire, rarely hungry enough to venture near. Everyone in the settlement knew some women never returned from the bleeding camp, it was impossible to know whether they'd been taken by animals or by another tribe, simply knowing they'd disappeared was unsettling enough. Now she didn't know what she feared most, to be swollen with child, or to bleed and stay a few days at the camp terrified the fire would fail and an animal would carry her away.
During this last season, she'd been at the camp each month, a whole season without a child growing inside her. She grew less fearful with each visit, relished the time with her son, rarely entirely alone, nearly always one or two other women who take the child, give her time to rest, recover her strength, or take her turn at gathering and preparing food.
This time she'd been at the camp by herself, her bleeding skipped two moons, then one night, toward morning, a pain clawing at her inside. She crawls away clutching the infant to her before she disturbs the Leader grunting alongside her on the sleeping hides, hiding herself before the men see her bleeding and beat her the from the caves, stumbling down the path, hastening to find refuge in solitude. For two days she lays while the cramp grips her body eventually to subside, all the while cradling the child, exhausted beyond hearing his cries, aware she should move to the stream, cleanse the child and her own body, lacking strength to make food, to maintain the fire. She watched the fire burn low, closes her eyes, waits for an animal to take her, knowing they are there, watching, waiting, she can smell them on the breeze, hear them brushing through the vegetation.
She wakes with the feel of the child being pulled from her, shrinks back, claws the air to ward off the animal, opens her eyes at the child's plaintive cry. A man silhouetted by moonlight taking the child, turning, walking away from her. She cries out, stretching an arm, and struggles to her knees, too weak to stand, watching his back disappear into the forest, crawling, calling out as the child's pitiful voice weakens with distance. Distraught she slumps forward beating the ground with her forehead, wailing, frightened to move, frightened to witness the child's demise, all hope for his future vanishing with his cry.
neonlyte said:Dingus
Thanks for your thoughts, always appreciated.
It's still in 'draft' form, I'm changing the tense from past to present, there are mistakes in there to be edited out. I just wanted to get something posted within the spirit of the Challenge time frame.
I take your point on smaller sentences, I'll look at that when I do the re-write.
It's coming along nicely. Do want to edit for me before I post? Be a couple of weeks before I'm ready with a final draft.
neon