All posts tagged: freewritefriday

Free Write Friday -Nonsense From The Other Side Of The Table

‘Rules die young.’ Someone had told Mark that once, or perhaps he was remembering it wrong. For some reason the phrase had surfaced at the back of his brain and now it was bobbing around refusing to go anywhere. ‘Rules die young.’ ‘Mr Bennet?’ The female police officer was looking at him from the other side of the table, ignoring the coffee her partner had brought her in favour of tapping the end of her pen against a clipboard. ‘Mr Bennet, can you start from the beginning please? ‘I- well yes, I suppose.’ He paused and stared down at his own cup of watery brown, [according to the other police officer] coffee and tried to remember where the start actually was. ‘You see, it’s like that saying,’ he started. ‘A problem shared comes in like a lion and goes out like a lamb.’ He licked his lips, wincing at the dried flakes of skin there. He should start using lip balm but he always managed to loose those tiny little sticks within an hour of …

Seeking Eyes

Kristin hated herself, which made her invincibility downright infuriating, but right at that moment all her anger was directly well and truly towards someone else. ‘Like I said, it happens more than you think.’ The man in the high viz jacket scratched the back of his neck and rocked his considerable wight back on his heels. ‘These sort of places, well they can be a bit…’ he thought about the word for a few moments. ‘Temperamental.’ ‘You think?’ Kristin spat. The ground in front of them had opened up to reveal exactly nothing. Ziltch. Diddly squat. She focused on projecting her fury down into that emptiness and not on to the idiot standing next to her.  How many men had they lost down there? Six? Eight? ‘Well we are looking for something that ain’t suppose to exist,’ he shrugged. ‘We’re unlikely to strike gold the first time.’ ‘I told you. We’re not looking for gold.’ ‘If you insist but I’ll have you know, you ain’t likely to find much else out here. A lot of …

Free Write Friday: Balanced On A Blade’s Edge

Things rarely ended how Bellris intended. He’d kept his hood pulled low and his face in the shadows, but somehow they had noticed him. He hit the wall at the end of the alley and scrambled for purchase. The stone was wet with rain and too smooth for climbing. The crates stacked next to him were soft with rot and half collapsing into themselves, with little to offer anyone hoping to scale the sheer wall. He glanced back the way he’d come and the crowds still surging past the entranceway. Hallows’ Night. The same explosion of revelry every year and every year he found himself in the same position. ‘Bellris…’ Edget’s voice crawled inside his ear as the three shadows from the tavern emerged from the crowd, the rain shimmering in front of them. They came down the alley single file, their bodies too wide to fit them any other way. ‘Oh Bellris…’ The two behind Edget cackled and Bellris threw himself against the wall again, the skin on his fingers tearing as he fumbled for …

Crash Landing

Jekker’s was a small time night club with sticky floors, 1940s’ bathrooms, and polystyrene ceiling tiles that were stained a manky yellow before Eddie had even been born. In another thirty years it would be a retro-funk cafe, frequented by those in their late teens and early twenties, not yet ready to tackle to adult world, but convinced they would do a better job of running it than the people before. Another ten years and it would become an underground venue for anti-establishment rock bands, the windows would still be blacked out and Eddie would be twenty-four years old, stood on the stage with his mates ready to show the world what they were made of. A fix foot six he wasn’t overly tall, but the lime green hair that he’d gelled to stand on end added added a few more inches. Of course Eddie and his band hadn’t counted on a terrorist attack three streets away, and a military base two streets closer conducting time vortex manipulation research just as they started up with …

Within The Shadows Monsters Lie In Wait

When he moved the shadows moved with him, clinging to his features like a second skin beneath the hood of his jacket. She watched him crouch in front of her, lips parted slightly as he tucked two fingertips beneath her chin and tilted her face up to look at him. She scowled. Her left eye was a swollen mess and her bottom lip was busted and twice it’s normal size. There was blood on the side of her face, dried and cracking every time she swallowed. Still he kissed her. She bit back, catching his lip beneath her teeth. She tasted blood, not her own this time, his. He jerked away and she saw something moving. Her balance shifted and she was going sideways, falling. Her ears rang, an open palm against her cheek, skin. She felt her skin sing, reddening into a print of his fingers. ‘I thought you cared for me?’ he growled. He wiped his sleeve across his mouth, the fabric vanishing into the shadows. Inside her skull she could still feel the world ringing …

Broken Cups And Awkward Poets: #FWF Freewrite

It was less than a second, maybe half a second, but it changed everything. They both looked down at the shattered coffee cup and then back up and each other and then back down at the shards of white crockery. She felt her cheeks flame, aware that they were now turning a particular shade of red and there would be blotches on her cheekbones. The spoken word poet in the corner coughed into his microphone, shuffled his papers and started again, his lines shaky as he tried to read from his sheets instead of looking at the pair of them standing in the puddle. He wasn’t very good. Every other line rhymed with some awkward, clunky phrase and Sarah felt like he was trying to voice her own words while her mouth moved uselessly. Pink lipstick sticking with each open and close. ‘I- I- I,’ stammered the poet. He coughed again and started on the next line down. ‘You- You- You-‘ Sarah spluttered something half like an apology, dropping as she spoke, hands spilling outwards like the …

A Friday Freewrite – Obscurite Extract

Battle Plans It was cold on the Witch Moors. Wind seemed to sweep in from every direction, cutting through the canvas tents and chilling Tara to the core. She pulled the wool cloak tighter around her shoulders and jammed her chin into her chest to keep her teeth from rattling out of her jaw. She tried to focus on Mormonth and Ilia, their heads bowed together as they plotted out the best way to steal into the Grey Castle break Lord Turnkay’s defence from behind. Curse the Lords and their stupid taxes Tara thought. Could her father have not waited until summer and then sent his armies to demand dues owed by the Northern territories? Why did he have to send her, and why now of all times? “Milady?” Ilia was looking at her now, forehead creasing with concern. “Milday, are you quite well?” Tara shook her head and wished again that they could have built a fire. They had three hundred men with them, all of which lay shivering among the ferns waiting for …

The Bears

It took us a while to get use to the bears. I mean really, one can hardly expect for such a creature to approach you in the street and start commenting on how dreary the weather is for this time of year. Except that was exactly what happened and it almost cost me my bus as I stood there spluttering for a response. Sunshine in November, dreary my foot! I was lost for words if you’ll believe it. Well I don’t suppose it matters if you do or you don’t, talking bears or loss of words. However I assure you that this is the god’s honest truth, or at least my honest truth since I don’t even know if you believe in a god or not. I suppose you’ll have some sort of preference. I rather like Minerva, never mind if I believe in the Roman deity. But she does have a certain feminist pull, and I never can resist a strong woman in myth or history. They always demand attention and perhaps a little …

Headquarters – Central Command

Sasha checked the wall of screens again, their soft glow falling across her desk as she shuffled papers in the gloom. No sign of any incoming attacks, and most of the western borders were quiet. Something of a skirmish had broken out just north of Paris but her boys were taking care of that; it was nothing to spend time watching. Leaning back in her chair she double checked, eyes glancing from screen to screen before settling on the keyboard in front of her. Dear Mr President she typed, fingers hesitating as she debated what to put next. She hovered, glancing back up to see if her boys had finished with the outlying force yet and then re-focused her attention. ‘Dear Mr President…’ she read the words back to herself and wriggled her fingers. Discussions must be opened… her fingers stopped again. There was no use in it, no matter what she wrote there would be no answer, GODS! There was no evidence to suggest anyone still living top-side still gave a dam about international relations. The war …