Writing Challenge ~ September 2012

[Britwitch]

WRITING CHALLENGE ~ SEPTEMBER 2012​

It’s been a while. I know.

guilty smile

But nevertheless here’s a challenge for this month that'll run for the rest of September.
And here’s the prompt...

You can involve the prompt itself in your piece and make your link 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 the image, or use it in its entirety.

The word limit for this challenge is 3,500 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!! This is supposed to be a fun way to get to know new writers and potential partners, to exercise our writing brains. It’s not a competition, you write whatever you feel inspired to write!

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 Saturday 29th September 2012, with October’s prompt ‘going live’ on Monday 1st! Hopefully.

Previous challenges and reviews can be found here.

Happy writing!

 

[Miss_Vivi]

The knife was right there. Oh, he had specified that she wear nothing but the apron while she made him dinner, the fucking voyeur, she had wisely decided not to fry anything. God forbid she burn the tits he had paid for.

"That's right baby."

She cringed, she always cringed when he tried talking sweet, loving, or baby talk to her. What was she? A five year old?

Now that thought made her shudder.

Again, he reached out and touched her, kissed her, sought to have her in his arms, and all she could think was....

The knife was right there, just a twist in his arms, another in his heart, and she'd be free of the sweet talking, skin crawling, ownership of her body. It wasn't as if he knew who she was, or what she was capable of, only her beauty mattered.

It was right there, her freedom within reach.

She didn't even realize when the knife was in her hand till she looked up into his wide and surprised eyes, he clutched at the knife in his neck. She watched him without a word, movement, or thought, just watched him die.

Calmly, she removed the knife and placed it in the sink to clean off, and reached over to one of the apples. Her teeth sank into the yielding fruit and the bittersweet taste of freedom and apple flood her mouth.

And the knife was right there.

 

[fr33ks33k]

She always did this. She knew the thought of her naked made his skin crawl. Not that she was unattractive, but because the person beneath the skin was such a fucking terrible excuse for a human. Still, she had him by the balls, figuratively and literally. She wore skimpy outfits, sometimes nothing at all. Other times, just enough to get his attention. His body was a treacherous bastard. The sight of her made him hard and made him retch mentally. Every time they fucked he had to force his mind to other things to keep it up. How very cliche; a man fantasizing about other women while he had sex with his wife. After a while, his disgust melded with his animal attraction to form a dreadful amalgam. He hate-fucked her, every time.

He dreamed of release; he tried to find a way to get out of the train wreck that was his marriage. No dice; his business was no secret to her somehow. There was so much dirt to destroy him if he said the wrong thing, did the wrong thing. She made sure of that. She made sure he knew that if she was ever anything less than satisfied with his subservience, she'd bury him. That was the price he paid for the deals he'd made. And yet....

She couldn't cook. She'd burn toast to ash; so why she pretended, he couldn't guess. Nothing but an apron and a thong...typical. Just to get a rise out of him. It was working. Not only his cock, but his ire. Stupid bitch, with her smug grin and her pert tits and....there his body went, giving in when his mind wanted to do anything but. He was a vile mix of horny and angry; the kind of rage that made men do horrible things without thought of consequence.

Her back was to the cutting board, her eyes closed as his did. He always had to close his eyes to kiss her. So he could imagine someone, anyone else. His hand grabbed her ass. He knew she liked that; she'd told him as much. So he did it, again and again though the swell of her ass was as much a cancerous cantaloupe to him as anything else. His eyes flashed open. She was caught up in the act, the thought that he might, for some god-awful reason be enjoying this. His chance. Impulse driving his hand to leave her body, find the knife laying there that she'd used just minutes before playing at being a housewife. Impulse, moving his hand from her side to her throat, holding her in place as the blade sank in, just beside her spine, finding a lung. His eyes went wide as he realized what he'd done. He smiled and stabbed her again. The anger that he'd held for so long tinted his vision red, or was it her spitting blood as he kept driving the knife home?

She didn't even scream. She didn't even look surprised as he killed her. She still wore that fucking grin. He scowled as she slumped to the ground. Even in death, she still had him.

 

[Britwitch]

This month's challenge is now closed to new submissions!



Thanks to those who posted and please, if you read what was posted here, do go leave a comment in the review thread.



New challenge starts tomorrow!​