Writing Challenge ~ April 2013

[Britwitch]

WRITING CHALLENGE ~ APRIL 2013​

New month. New challenge.

This challenge is only going to run for a week so this time there’s only one prompt!

http://media.365project.org/1/4020681_dgjpqvy159_l.jpg​

You can involve the prompt itself in your piece and make your links to the prompt as obvious or as subtle as you like or use it simply as inspiration for something else. You can use part of the prompt, just one aspect of one image, or use it in its entirety.

The word limit for this month’s challenge is 1,250 words and your submission can take whatever form you desire – poetry or prose, complete story or a vignette. Erotic or not, serious or light hearted, it’s whatever you want it to be!!

It’s your writing, your challenge. You write whatever you’re inspired to write! Be it one piece or several!

Post only your submissions in this thread, constructive comments and reviews are to be posted in the appropriately named – Writing Challenge Review Thread

The deadline for this month’s challenge is Tuesday 30th April 2013.

Previous challenges and reviews can be found here.

Happy writing!

 

[Miss_Vivi]

You've been gone much longer
Than you ever said you had the plan to
I'm just gonna wait 'till you come home

The railroad was lonely. She could walk here without being disrupted, and daydream of him endlessly. Her girlfriends didn't get it, but she did. He was deeper than the rest of the guys.

Though I count the days,
they're grey without you
The weather's much better
when I think about you
I'm just gonna wait till you come home

So what if he had left her? He loved her. She was sure of it. Her music was turned up louder. She'd wait for him.

Empty glasses, burnt out matches
Curtains drawn on near-full blackness
I'm sleeping through the day
You're coming home
To reclaim this heart you owned

Oh his smile. She loved his smile. More than she feared his frown. That came and went during the times when he hurt her, and she begged him to stop. But he loved her. He always told her that she was perfect, that she made him happy and that he couldn't live without her.

Lover
Leave me
Make me burn
You're coming back!
You're coming back!

He was her first lover.
God, she loved it out here. So quiet. So without the stares of her friend who questioned the marks on her arms and made her feel bad for loving him still.
Like they understood the nature of his love for her.

It was passion.

I'll wait patiently
For your return
You're coming back!
You're coming back!

She wanted him back so badly.
She would wait.
Right?
He wanted her to wait for him.

I'm clutching at straws
I'm climbing up the walls
But every time I fall
Back into my hole
I'm feeling like a wretch
I'm looking for a catch
But you're an itch that I can't scratch
I know you're coming back


He'd been walking these tracks too.
He had left her then.
Left them all.
She turned her music up.

You've been gone so long you're fading
And it takes all the time I
can find just retaining
Thoughts of things we did
while you were here
But I know you will return my dear

She would be with him.
She never heard the train.
But the music never stopped.


She loved him.
He loved her.
She was sure of it.

 

[Scuttle Buttin']

Bitter.

Clack-clack clack-clack clack-clack...

Anger and tears that he hates that blur his vision that distort her hair flying in the wind that are an outward sign of his inward hate that he fights in vain.

Clack-clack clack-clack clack-clack...

His parents are gone, torn from him long before he was ready, he is what they refer to as a "victim of the system" as they sadly shake their heads, and even at this young age he knows that inside they are seeing him as less than. At a time when his mother is supposed to kiss his forehead at night, when his father is supposed to be sculpting him into a man, he is instead alone in the world, standing next to tracks that are newly empty and watching his sister disappear to a dot on the horizon.

Or so he would, if they let him.

But no, the system waits for no one, and certainly not a boy such as he. Homes that were never his, adults that were never parents, beds that never felt comfortable. A life that was no longer his.

Just as the system waits for no one, time would wait for no one either. Through good and bad, through love and hatred, it marches steadily on. The boy grows into a man, the bitterness grows into malevolence.

His sister, gone all these passing years, he never saw again. What happened to her, he never knew. She was, much like his parents, torn from him. Ashes in the wind.

Despite this, one person was able to pull down his walls. Brick by brick, she worked her way into him. Day by day, he let her in. A love was created, a life together was built. A fair house, a comfortable bed, and even, to his own surprise, laughter.

Happiness.

And then.

A fire he couldn't quench, a hell he couldn't save her from. The house burned, the love destroyed, the woman consumed. Ashes in the wind.

For a time, days maybe, he wanders. Hotels. The occasional hospitality of a friend. Before the eyes of everyone around him, he dissolves. Alcohol is his only consolation, and walls that were once built with brick are now constructed with dynamite. The whiskey on the table in front of him is the match. The gun he holds under it is the fuse. Destruction, ultimate and final, is his only ambition.

A woman, somehow out of place in these surroundings, is looking at him. He has no idea how long she's been there, the entirety of the night perhaps, but there is knowledge in her eyes and suddenly his heart is beating faster. She knows, somehow. His plan, his destiny, his approaching end.

A drink of whiskey, fire in his throat, and she moves closer to him. A table away, but facing him. She knows, she knows, she knows.

Wild thoughts fly through his mind, rapid and sometimes incomprehensible, and he is able only to focus on one: She wants to stop him.

She is staring, he is staring back, and she knows, God above she knows what he plans.

Her chest rises as she takes a deep breath, steeling her nerves no doubt, and then her hands disappear under the table, and she is reaching for something, grabbing, moving to pull, and he knows it is a gun meant to stop him and he will not allow her to control this destruction. It is his turn, and she'll not take it from him.

Seven bullets cut through the air.

The first three, in a quick succession of trigger pulls, find her chest and she falls below the table and out of sight.

Chaos erupts, and he cannot settle on a target. Tables upturned, doors bursting open.

The fourth catches him in the instant before the report is comprehended in his ears, and his chest is ablaze in pain. Wide eyes roll, settle on the bartender with a gun pointed at him below a mask or horror and fright.

The final three empty his body of life as he collapses behind the bar, the gun falling with a thud.

His own gun falls then, his hand no longer obeying him. It's growing harder to breathe, and the world seems to be on rollers. Whiskey is spilled, the bottle rolls and falls to the floor, and out of the chair he follows it.

Breathing hard but getting little for his efforts, his eyes settle on her where she lays unmoving.

The bar is empty, but filling slowly with the sound of approaching sirens as he drags himself over to her. In her hand is clutched not a gun, but a photograph.

A path of blood follows his progress to her. Shaking, rebellious fingers pull the photo from her limp grasp.

Even in his drunken, dying state, he recognizes his youthful face staring up at him, smiling with a happiness matched only by the face of his sister next to him.

The photo, forever stained with a thumb print of blood, is lowered. Aged, lifeless, the face of his sister now stares up the ceiling. Unseeing, eyes now as blind as his parents, as blind as his wife's, as blind as his are growing.

Sirens closer, and yet somehow growing more distant.

He is tired, so tired, and his head is impossibly heavy. On her chest he lays, eyes on her face.

Sirens grow closer and more distant.

She grows closer and more distant.

Shared blood joins together around them.

No one claims them. Few claim to even know them.

In the end, they are together. Ashes in the wind.

 

[saysalice]

Serve cold.

I know I owe for other things, but sometimes - ya gotta get an idea out of your head. I am working on the other things, I promise.

Also, this is kind of gruesome, I apologize.


My morning run is one of my small pleasures. There is an unmatched peace in the quiet before dawn, the stillness before the rest of the world is awake, and a meditative rhythm in the slap of my shoes on the pavement. The overpass is my halfway point, and I pause each morning at the same time, to lean against the railing and watch the sun rise in the mountains.

This morning, for the first time, I have company.

High beams blind me before he has the courtesy to turn them off, and a shiny newer-model car slows as I slow, with a rivalling cadence: thwap...thwap...thwap. He pulls off to the side of the road, and I watch as I reach my spot in the middle of the overpass, to see if he needs any help. The car is too clean to be a local, I think, and sure enough - when he emerges, he is wearing an expensive-looking suit.

He crouches to examine the offending tire in the early light, and his curse carries in the silence - a harsher expletive than I might have used, this early. It makes me grin, and I walk over slowly, as not to startle him. He is rummaging in the trunk, but looks up when I call, "Good morning! Flat?"

He looks up. My heart drops into my stomach. The hair is different - after ten years, a little more, he's not using mousse like he used to. His eyes are a little older, a little tired - well, so are mine. He's gained some weight, but he's tall enough to carry it well. Same pretty eyes. Same fucking smile. I glance away abruptly - anywhere else, at the car - as he smiles at me sheepishly and answers, "Yeah. Sorry." For the swear. "It's a rental. There's a spare, but no God da- no jack, in the trunk."

He straightens, smoothing the wrinkles from his suit, and looks to me anxiously. There is a flicker of recognition, I think - just a ripple across his handsome features. If I'd blinked, I would have missed it. I don't blink.

He continues in the same genial tone, pulling out a cell phone, "You don't happen to know the number of an auto shop? I've got this interview at 8 o'clock, I don't want to be late."

I hesitate just a moment, just a gasp too long before smiling back at him. "You're in the sticks, unfortunately. There isn't a garage until the next town."

Watching his face - smooth and careful and kind, but there is a wariness in the eyes, now. Yes, he knows. I take out my own phone. "But you know what? Our house isn't far. I'll call my husband, get him to bring a jack."

His face is grateful. I turn away from his effusive thanks and walk a few steps to make the call. When I return, he is hauling the spare out of the trunk. I speak to make him look at me, "He'll be right out. It's literally five minutes."

He closes the trunk with a bang and thanks me again, then leans against the car in a casual pose. We watch the sun rise with agonizing slowness over the mountains.

"So - interview, huh?" I say, for something to say.

"Yeah!" Too chipper. "The refinery. They're looking for a Project Manager. It's a chance to - uh, move back..."

I nod. "From around here, are ya?"

He clears his throat. "Yes - well - not here. I grew up in the city."

Nod, nod. "And looking to move back home, huh? Got family?"

"It's just me. But you know, my parents - they're getting up there -"

Headlights flash around a bend, and then cut as the truck pulls up to where we are. It's been barely two minutes, he must have been flooring it the whole way. I smile as he gets out of the truck, and meet his eyes steadily.

"This is my husband." Neither man steps forward. They eye each other like two strange tomcats. I could laugh.

I step between them - smile, smile. "Robert, this is Jon." He starts - stiffens perceptibly. Aha. "It is Jon, isn't it?"

He clears his throat again and approaches, extending his hand, saying nothing. My husband catches it with goodnatured country enthusiasm, and shakes very firmly.

Rob lets go first, and turns away with a hard grin. "Got that jack in the truck. Let me change it for you, so you don't get mussed up."

The gratitude, the platitudes. My husband has less patience for it, and cuts him off, "No problem at all. You two can catch up."

I walk to the railing. The sky is pink and yellow, it's a beautiful morning. After a moment, I can hear his shoes on the pavement. I don't turn.

"It is Jon, isn't it. And you remember me."

He doesn't answer until I turn my head to look at him, then he brings a hand up to rub the back of his neck, laughing uncomfortably. "Uh...I think you must have me confused for someone else."

I watch him. He can't meet my eyes. "No."

We watch the sunrise, listening to the ratcheting echo of my husband working one end of the rental car up on the jack. When he speaks, the false cheeriness is gone from his tone. It makes me smile.

"Does your husband know?"

The corners of my mouth twitch. "Yes."

He exhales, long and shaky. Takes a step away. Steps back. Leans in to whisper harshly, "Look - that was a long time ago -" He pauses, trying to think of something else to say.

"I always thought that if I ever saw you again, I'd run you down with my car," I murmur serenely. Turning to him with a mischievous twinkle, "Guess you're lucky you caught me on foot, this morning."

He's sweating, just a little, but he is trying to get his voice under control. "That was a misunderstanding. That was ten years ago. I don't know what you expect me to do about it now."

"Well, I think you might apologize, for starters," I smile.

"For what? For -"

The trunk slams, and my husband walks over unhurriedly to join us, carrying a lug wrench. Jon is visibly unnerved, in his spiffy suit. He shuffles away until his back is against the railing.

"Is this the part where you get your man to rough me up?" he spits, "Like last time?"

Rob smiles. "No, man. It's not like that."

Clapping a hand on his shoulder. Giving him a hard shove to send him over the side of the overpass. The fear in his voice as he goes over, the sound of his impact makes me shudder.

After a moment, muffled with pain: "Bitch! You bitch!" A wheeze in the time it takes me to look over the side at him. One leg looks terribly wrong. "Hey - you know what kind of cunt your wife is? You know what kind of WHORE?"

Rob clears his throat, like he does when he's trying not to lose his temper. He steps up to the railing. I hear a zip! and I choke on my laughter as I reach for his arm.

"Oh honey - don't. Don't. Not necessary. But thank you!"

He takes out a cigarette instead. Panting, from below. Curses. Grunts of effort echoing off the concrete. The rattle of gravel. And in the distance, the mournful sound of a train whistle. The 7:20, right on time.

Jon looks up at me, and I can see the whites of his eyes, wide with real fear. It's nice. He begins to babble. "Look - look, let's talk about this, okay? We can talk about this - I'm sorry, I can be sorry!"

I reach for my husband's cigarette. "Can I have a drag?"

"You don't smoke," he says.

"Nope."

He tsks and hands it to me. The whistle blows again - much closer. I hear that sound night and day, and it is always a comfort. It means I'm home. I inhale once, deeply, and pass it back. I can hear the rumble of wheels on the tracks. I let out a long breath I've been holding for years.

Jon has decided to scream. "Help - help me! I'm stuck on the tracks - help - please!"

When he pauses for breath, I comment briefly, speaking up over the noise, "You're in the sticks, Jon. I told you. There's no one to hear you."

"But feel free to keep screaming," my husband puts in, tapping his ash over the side.

We can see the one headlight now, and the clackclackclackclack of the train is getting louder. Below, he splutters fiercely, "You fucks - you sick fucks -"

The train whistle drowns him out. Deafening. Below, he is trying to crawl. I step away from the rail. I don't need to watch.

He is screaming, "I'm SORRY - I'm SORRY!"

But it's too late now. The train passes under us, and it's all we can hear. Rob smokes grimly, deliberately, and I can see it in his face - the tweak of his features, and then the dead calm. It's enough.

My ears are ringing as I watch the tail end shuffle off with one more blast of the whistle, like a salute. The sun is up. I grip the cold railing with both hands and make myself look over. Like jam, raspberry jam. I've never seen a jumper.

Rob's arm is around my shoulders, and he kisses my temple - once, twice. After a moment, he murmurs, "Are you hungry?"

I look up at him. I can't speak. There are tears in my eyes, but they don't fall - I won't let them fall. I nod.

"Come on home," he says. "I'll make eggs."

 

[dkgooner]

Working on the railroad

He pulls the pickup truck into the small patch of gravel on the side of the road just next to the bridge, parking next to the small older model convertible already there… pulling on his orange jacket as he steps out he looks over at the car for a moment, not usually a place people parked… maybe they’d broken down and walked into town he shrugs his shoulders, grab his tools and heads down towards the tracks… He looks up at the sky as he walks, some quite ominously dark clouds starting to drift over after what has been a really nice warm day…

‘Always turns for the worse when you get off work… figures!’ he thinks to himself, he had been ready to call it a day when the call came and he’d have to get out here, check on a suspected broken signal light…

A smile on appears on his face as he walks along the tracks, memories of when he got out here as a kid… playing in the wood, even along the tracks despite their mothers caution and insistence they’d not… he can almost hear the yells of his friends, calling for him, the laughter… he remembers the lake on the other side of the trees a bit further forward, where they would’ve gone for a swim on a day like this… working all day meant that he wouldn’t be able to enjoy this as an adult… the clouds above signaling the likely end outdoor activities for the day…

A few hundred yards and he reach his destination, finding the problem quite quickly and less than ten minutes pass before he have gotten it fixed… a freight train rumbles past as he’s packing up, the noise deafening as the heavy cars race by, he waves at the conductor as it approach and has to plug the ear facing the tracks as he starts walking back, normally wearing noise protection, earmuffs or at least plugs, but haven’t gotten any with him in his hurry to get out the door…

As silence falls over the forest once more he snaps his head to the side, thinking he heard something… not only the splash of water but a soft giggling voice… no animals would laugh like that, that’s for sure… thinking it was likely just some kids having some fun on an afternoon off, just as he’d done himself, he doesn’t think much about it… at first…

He walks a few more feet and then turns, heading in between the trees… his own earlier reminiscing about his childhood drawing him to at least catch a glimpse of what’s going on, kids playing around, not a care in their life… yet, he sighs…

As he cross over the mound and gets a clear view of the lake below his heart seems to skip a beat, and he stops death in his track…

A gorgeous creature, a tall curvy brunette emerges from the water, her hair soaked and water cascading over her lovely, naked curves… he watches, eyes wide open, as she wades out of the water, his eyes following her and seeing another woman sitting on a blanket on the ground, drying off her own equally bare and just as beautiful body…

He is grinning, heart racing and feeling more than a little excited… it was almost like being a young boy again, sneaking up and peeking at the girls like this…

He can see the girls talking, no chance of hearing what about from this distance and he was more focused on their nakedness anyway… four beautiful breasts on display, his lips drying up quickly as the seated girl toss away her towel and reach for a top, his tongue flicking out to moisten his lip…

The other girl snatch the fabric from her fingers, both girls giggling and grinning, talking about who knows what… he chuckles to himself too, this had turned out to be an excellent detour near the end of his shift… and it only got better at what he witnessed next, his heart definitely stopping for a moment this time, legs feeling as if they’d give out underneath him…

The girl standing bents down, giving him a great view of her naked rear, a wide grin on the face of the seated girl as they approach each other and their lips locks in a deep and passionate kiss… the seated girl gets pushed back slowly, coming to rest on her back as the two naked girls explores each other’s mouth in a passionate embrace.

As they break the kiss he can make out their soft giggling and stretch his neck, standing on his toes as the girl on top slowly begins moving down the other girls curves… kissing and licking her way towards her breast… as they’re down low like this his viewpoint proves to be lacking some and he moves further along, a little closer and higher up the small hill he’s on… finding the perfect place as the girl beneath arch her back, moaning in pleasure, and push her breast up, the other girl’s mouth all over those beautiful orbs, sucking, kissing, biting them…

He bites his lip, now feeling very warm even in the shade as he watch them go further… she continues down her body, licking over her sexy flat belly, kissing her navel before taking hold of her legs, spreading them wide… the two girls… lovers? he wonders… share a playful grin before the one leans down, on all four with her head buried between her friends splayed legs…

His cock has started to harden quite a bit by this point, bulging in his pants as he takes in the unbelievable sight down by the lake, a ray of sun breaking through the clouds seems to beam directly down on them… almost wishing he’d brought a camera or at the least his own phone with him to capture this moment…

It crosses his mind several times as he watches how she twist in pleasure, arching her back and grabbing her girlfriend’s hair as she licks her out, that he should leave… it would be the right thing to do, really… he shouldn’t be spying on people like this he tells himself… and agrees… but one orgasm, he has to see that much… just one… won’t take long now by the looks of it anyway…

So he stays put, hoping that they won’t see him in between the trees, pretty confident not to be revealed… the fact that the bright orange jacket he was wearing was made for the purpose of being clearly visible doesn’t cross his mind at all at that moment…