Writing Challenge

[yui]

Not too kind at all, Yui. It really was outstanding. Amazing piece of work. You captured the vibrancy of the sounds and spells and textures...it was just fantastic.

Thanks, 3113! Completely didn't mean to snub you in my initial reply; apologies. I loved what you did with your challenge; the way you took someone back to a place held in time and the difference wasn't so much in the local, but person. Very, very well done. I'm impressed.

I posted very quickly and replied very selfishly; for that, I am sorry. You are generous in your kindness even when I failed to show the same courtesy, and I appreciate that. Please excuse my rudeness and my delay in acknowledging your entry. I am ashamed; the oversight was loopiness on my part, and in no way a reflection on you.

Peace,

Yui

 

[CrimsonMaiden]

Crimson Maiden

It's a summer diary entry.
Your character has early onset arthritis.
Your character secretly wants to fuck every woman he or she comes across.
A night club plays a significant role in your character's day.

Good luck

Had a weekend full of sick kids (and me!), so I'm just now seeing this. I'll get to it asap.

A nightclub and arthritis... this ought to be interesting, lol.

 

[Aurora Black]

*bump*

 

[CrimsonMaiden]

another bump so I don't have to go searching for it once I get mine finished

 

[CrimsonMaiden]

It's a summer diary entry.
Your character has early onset arthritis.
Your character secretly wants to fuck every woman he or she comes across.
A night club plays a significant role in your character's day.

Okay, so mine's more of a story than a diary entry, but I think I hit all the rest of the challenge. (though I don't think mine is near as good as any of the others... and I think the ending is awkward.)

*******

Ginger strode through the foyer doors, the blast of cool air a welcome respite from the muggy heat of the sweltering night. Beneath her feet, she could feel the strumming vibrations of the loud music inside the club. She pushed through the swinging door and the noise hit her like a tidal wave. She threaded through the crowd and headed toward the door hidden in the recesses of a dark corner.

“It’s wild out there tonight, isn’t it?” asked her co-worker, Sandy as she slouched down in the red plastic chair beside her.

“Crowded as hell.” Ginger thought the owners of the establishment had hit pay dirt when they decided to open a combination night club/strip club. One side of the building held a dance floor and a bar, and the other side held tables and chairs and the stage on which she and other girls strutted their stuff. It was a far cry from the normal seediness of your usual strip club. Everything was shiny chrome and disco lights. It was almost enough to make her job seem respectable. Almost.

“Damnit.” The stiffness in her fingers made unbuttoning her shirt difficult. Hell, it was damn near impossible.

“Let me help.”

Sandy leaned forward and deftly undid button after button, and Ginger shivered as the girl’s slender fingers grazed over the warm flesh of her breasts. Get a grip, Ginger thought. The last thing she needed was to get involved with one of the girls, but she couldn’t stop herself from admiring the sway of Sandy’s naked breasts as she stood up and grabbed the skimpy top from her dressing table.

“Thanks,” she managed to say before turning away. That’s a road that leads to nowhere, she thought as she shook her head slightly.

“How much longer do you think you’ll be able to continue working here?” Sandy asked as she dressed for her set.

“God, I don’t know. For a long time to come, I hope. The doctor has me on some new medication. If it works, I should be able to cope enough with the stiffness and pain to keep dancing.” There sure as hell wasn’t anything else she could do. Stripping was the only thing she’d ever known. Ginger saved money religiously and spent it only when it was absolutely necessary. She never turned down a private dance, no matter how disgusting or drunk the customer might have been.

Her goal was to have enough money saved in order to retire in a few years. She was right on track for that goal. She had even figured in the money she’d need in order to make sure her body stayed in tip-top shape. Yearly gym memberships, personal trainers, and even plastic surgery, if she needed it… all were taken into account.

The beginning strains of Sandy’s intro intruded upon her thoughts, and she realized she had little time left to dress for her set. The onset of her disease caused Ginger to be creative when it came to her outfits. Everything had Velcro closures, even her bras, though they needed industrial strength Velcro in order to stay together during her act.

It being the weekend, the act for the night would be the most favored, the schoolgirl. It never failed to bring in the big tips.

Sandy breezed through the door as her music ended. “You’re up. Wild crowd tonight so watch out for grabbers.”

Ginger rolled her eyes and fastened her short plaid skirt as she slipped her feet into the black heels. “Wonderful.” The drum beat signaling the beginning of her song started up, and she exited the dressing room to stand behind the curtain. At the end of the beat, she threw open the curtain and began her dance.

Fighting to keep the pain from her face, she went through the motions of the act. Twirling around the pole at the beginning was the most difficult, but she managed to keep it together and got through it before the pain became unbearable.

More than once, she had to dance out of reach of grabbing hands as boisterous college boys reached out across the stage. Ginger guessed the bouncer would toss a few of them before the night ended. The last stanza of her song began, and Ginger sighed in relief as she did the last breast jiggle and ass shake and then gathered her shed clothing before exiting the stage.

Her breath caught in her throat as she entered to the dressing room to be met with the glorious sight of one of the girl’s bare ass as she bent over to retrieve something from the floor. Ginger felt a warm thrill pass through her before she forced her gaze away. Another time, another place, she thought as she returned to her table to count her tips. If the night continued to go as well, she’d be that much closer to her goal.

 

[Aurora Black]

I liked it. You constructed a workable scenario with the difficult criteria you were given. Brava, Crim.

 

[FallingToFly]

very nice. Very, very nice.

So, what happens next?

 

[CrimsonMaiden]

Thanks rora

very nice. Very, very nice.

So, what happens next?

Thanks FtF

Hadn't really given much thought to that. My guess is her meds work and she earns enough to retire, lol. I'm a sucker for happy endings after all, lol.

 

[FallingToFly]

Thanks rora



Thanks FtF

Hadn't really given much thought to that. My guess is her meds work and she earns enough to retire, lol. I'm a sucker for happy endings after all, lol.

Or maybe she has a really bad reaction- ends up in the hospital, and then rehabiliative therapy, and her gorgeous doctor and sweet, funny, sincere physical therapist both fall in love with her and make her all better- in the middle of a steamy love triangle.

 

[Aurora Black]

Or maybe she has a really bad reaction- ends up in the hospital, and then rehabiliative therapy, and her gorgeous doctor and sweet, funny, sincere physical therapist both fall in love with her and make her all better- in the middle of a steamy love triangle.

Mmm, a man sandwich.

 

[CrimsonMaiden]

Or maybe she has a really bad reaction- ends up in the hospital, and then rehabiliative therapy, and her gorgeous doctor and sweet, funny, sincere physical therapist both fall in love with her and make her all better- in the middle of a steamy love triangle.

LOL! That sounds like more fun that what I said!

 

[English Lady]

well done crim!


I am writing my piece, but it's taking time. I'#ll get there eventually

 

[English Lady]

For EL

* an old folks' home played a significant part in your character's day
* it's summer time
* your character has unresolved homosexual feelings
* your character has only months to live, but hasn't told a single person

Okay, so here it is.

A little warning -there's some icky imagery in this piece, if you're feeling a bit weak stomached, might be worth giving it a miss.



Dear Old Edith.

Where there is hope, there’s life. Well, if this is true I am already dead. I am already mouldering in the grave as the light pours in through the windows across from my “not so comfy” comfy chair. Maggots are wriggling through my flesh as I gaze out on the bright-green lawn and the boarders of flowers in riotous bloom. I’m a pale shell, devoid of life and love as Sharon knocks, places the faded green teacup filled with too sweet, too weak tea on the wooden table before me, smiles and leaves me to continue writing.

To everyone in this place I am just “dear old Edith.” It’s funny, because I’ve always been “dear old Edith.” from being a child. I was always the shy one, the one everyone depended upon to do as she was told without fuss. I was the common sense one, the practical one, the one who sorted out peoples problems. I even went into a profession that demanded it.

As a nurse I cured so many people, healed and helped so many, but now, my frail skin as fragile as bone china and as ugly as old, rotting plastic and my useless easy-break bones mean I can’t even look after myself.

“You’ll like it in there, Edith.” they all said. Then left me. Oh yes, they visit now and then, eat the sweets they bring for me, chatter inanely at me, commenting about how wonderful the staff are and how pretty and warm my room is, but not a one cares about me. Not one.

Since Jack died, no one has really cared about me. Jack was my life. He was the breath in my lungs, the red blood cells whizzing through my body, pushing me forward minute by minute, day by day. Jack and I had it all, love, money, nice house, friendship and respect. We never argued, never quarrelled. We never shared a bed. When he died, forty year after we’d been married on a blazing hot summers day just like this one, I was the same virgin I had been on that day.

Jack liked men. He was high up managerial and well, in those days men just weren’t gay in managerial positions. Jack had been a friend all through school, he wasn’t like the other boys, he never teased me for being fat, he never oggled my early-developed breasts. I liked Jack, loved him even and when, at eighteen, he asked me to marry him - I said “yes” without hesitation. I mean who needs sex and romance anyway? Boys never appealed to me, their dangly bits were, and no doubt still are, repulsive looking things, women are far more pleasing to the eye.

Jack. I miss him. He never demanded anything of me. He worked, he gave me my house keeping and I kept house. It was as simple as that. Even in death it was just like that. He left me housekeeping money and I continued the same as I had, except Jack didn’t come through the door at 5.18pm every night.

I miss our home, but even I must admit it was getting too big for me to deal with. It held too many memories, too many reminders that my life-long companion was dead and gone. I honestly can’t remember now if I fell down those stairs or pushed myself. I’d come down so low that I just wanted to die and be with Jack. Jack understood me.

No one else has ever “got” me. Ann tried. She was a lovely young lady and my home help. She listened to me rambling on about my youth as her lithe body stretched and curved to clean the things I couldn’t reach. I found myself hypnotised sometimes by the way her hips swayed as she vacuumed, so sensuous and effortless. I’d tut at her and the way her tops showed off her cleavage, but I would look at the same cleavage every chance I could get.

I guess it’s because I’m flat chested and always have been, which is ironic as the rotten cancer that is eating me alive started right there in my non-existent breasts. I couldn’t believe it when the doctor told me, but when she said she’d inform the home I begged her not to. I’d do it.

I still haven’t. I won’t tell them, I just want to die in peace, if they know I am this sick, they’ll keep an eye on me, like the poor drooling guy who they prop up in front of the TV sometimes. They fuss around him all the time, he doesn’t have a moment to himself. No, I couldn’t be doing with that. I like my solitude. I like how they pop in now and then but largely leave me to my own devices. If they suddenly knew I was dying, my peace would be shattered.

I want to die anyway, I don’t fit in here on earth, but maybe I’ll have a chance in Heaven. At least there I will have my Jack and a nice, new body -I’m sick of this one. Everyone says I’m doing well for my age, but they don’t deal with the aches, they don’t see the wrinkles like I see them, I remember when my skin was smooth and creamy. I hate every wrinkle and every age spot. I hate that I’m locked up in this prison where the warders smile and bring me cups of teas but there eyes stay vacant.

I wonder if anyone will read this once I’m dead? I bet that nosey bugger Rosie will, how she got to be manager I don’t know, scatty cow. I bet she’ll laugh at the ramblings of an old virgin lady. I don’t care though, I’ll be home and this old, decrepit body will be mouldering in the earth, making compost.

 

[Aurora Black]

Nice work, EL. Very unique. One doesn't hear about elderly virgins often.

 

[English Lady]

Nice work, EL. Very unique. One doesn't hear about elderly virgins often.

Thanks, love. It was a hard one to write and i'm not 100% sure it really works, but I've had an interesting time with Edith