Once upon a time…..
There were three young adult writers all at different points on the road to publication. They were dedicated to their craft and to writing novels, but sometimes they longed to write just for the sheer fun of it. They wanted to stretch themselves in new directions, to not take the process so seriously, to be inspired in new and different ways. They wanted a place to experiment, a place where roughish drafts were welcome and strange new ideas were cheered on. They dreamed of a place where other writers like themselves could send in their own stories and put them out there into the world for others to see. They wanted to feel empowered and empower others to tell stories boldly. And so they banded together and began a site that would hopefully do just that.
THIS IS THAT SITE!
Here’s how it works:
At the beginning of each month, one of the Fiction Femme Fatale will post a picture that speaks to them. Then all three of us will set about writing a thousand word story inspired by the picture. There are no rules or boundaries other than these:
It has to be rated PG
It has to be geared towards young adults or middle graders
On the first three Fridays of each month we will each post our stories for your reading pleasure. Krystalyn will post the first week, Stefanie will post the second, and Amy will post the third. Then the last week of the month, we will invite you to submit an original thousand word (or less) story of your own based on the same picture and we will pick one to post on this blog. If there happens to be a fifth week in any given month, we will hold some very exciting contests and giveaways.
Our hope is that this blog will be a source of growth and inspiration not just for us, but for other writers out there like us. We truly believe that in order to make our dreams come true we need to give ourselves the opportunity to get more work out there, to push ourselves in directions we wouldn’t normally have gone, and to rediscover what makes telling a story so much fun in the first place. We hope that you will join us on this journey and we look forward to seeing what we can all create together!
My first short story, Peace, went up today.
Showing posts with label short stories. Show all posts
Showing posts with label short stories. Show all posts
Friday, April 6, 2012
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Short Story: Racing to the Beat the Night
My car will not go over 94 miles an hour. And that’s a damn shame because the fog of bloodsuckers is flying close enough to my tail to rip the bumper off.
“C’mon. C’mon!” I urge the speedometer. “Sure, you promise 120 but when it comes down to it, you just don’t have the guts.” Which Costa had assured me it did before allowing me to take the car out on a supply run.
See, here’s the thing. We live in a dome, the few humans who don’t have a death wish, or worship immortality. The problem is such living conditions tend to cut you off from the rest of the world, including sources of food and medication. So, every now and then one of us has to just suck it up, go for it, and hope to God that we make it back before dark when the fog rolls in. And by fog, I mean a herd of vamps very much like the one currently crawling up my tailpipe.
That’s how they travel, you know. They go all misty and join together into this gigantic cloud. And they are fast! I’m talking Go! Speed Racer! Go! Unfortunately, my car does not understand the current need for speed because the back window is now shrouded in fog and little starburst cracks are appearing in the glass.
Tap. Tap. Tap. Little girl, little girl, let us in.
I slam my foot down on the accelerator thinking if I can break it through the floorboards, maybe I can get another 5 mph out of this thing. That’s all I really need. The dome is so close. I can see the rounded top lifting up out of the horizon.
You’re probably wondering how I got myself into such a fine mess, out after dark in a race against evil incarnate. Well, let me tell you if there had been any choice in the matter, I would be sweet dreaming in my bunk right now. But I’m the best runner they got, and I wasn’t about to let any of those little ones die if I could help it.
See, a few years ago, we noticed some of the vamps getting sick, and not with your run of the mill cold either. I’m talking eating away at your flesh from both the in and outside sick.
Fortunately, humans seemed immune to it. At least at first. But then our little ones started getting sick. Not the teenagers or adults, no. Just the little ones. As if there weren’t enough reasons for hating the bloodsuckers.
Anyway, a couple of days ago, one of the under fives started showing the symptoms. We thought she would make it til the next supply run, but this afternoon she took a turn for the worst. She needed antibiotics, and she needed them yesterday.
So with one hour left before sunset, I went to Costa, and had him prep me a car.
“Hey,” he said right before I took off. “I don’t wanna have to come rescue you.”
I raised an eyebrow at him. “When have you ever had to come rescue me?”
He shrugged. “There’s always a first time.”
I laughed, and stomped on the gas.
My first stop was the field where we grow anything that doesn’t fit in the dome. The vamps even help us maintain it. That’s a smart move on their part, if you think about it. It’s sort of like fattening the cow before the slaughter.
I filled the backseat to overflowing, and sped off to my next stop, The Wastelands. Maybe it once passed as a trailer park, but now it was a glorified dump whose inhabitants played both sides of the field, vamp and human. It was the only place in a 500-mile radius where you could buy necessary things; you know gas, medicinal supplies, and bags of blood for those nights when you just can’t catch enough humans.
With twenty minutes remaining, I bagged every bit of food from the back seat, and hauled it over to the Hospital Quarter, really just a couple of Airstreams filled with supplies. I dropped my bags in their “donation” pile, and received one small vial of antibiotics in return.
Then, I turned and made my way back through the towering piles of junk. That’s when I felt it, that inky, oh crap feeling that tells you a vamp is near. But I comforted myself with the knowledge that I still had five minutes of sunlight left, and my car wasn’t that far away.
Of course there were shadows, long ones. I guess I should have been more careful, but I had never seen a vamp desperate enough to rise before sunset. I didn’t even know shadow walking was possible until he materialized right in front of me, only a bite away.
Disease raked his throat as he whispered, “You have something I want.”
I clutched the tiny vile to my chest like it contained the elixir of life, which in a way, it did.
“Little girl,” he rasped. “Please don’t be difficult. I only want the one thing. Then you can be on your way, safe as sunlight.”
Why didn’t I bring a stake? I chided myself. First rule of survival -- always bring a stake.
I pocketed the medicine and said, “Eat wood.”
His scarred face contorted into a sad sort of grimace. “It’s a shame you said that. It didn’t have to be this way.”
My heart hammered in my throat, but I held my ground. Against a healthy vamp, I wouldn’t stand a chance unarmed, but against a sick one…maybe. I balled up my fists, and waited. Scarface was just your typical vamp, right? I was pretty sure I could guess his next move.
And I was right. Fast as lightening, his hand flew to my pocket.
I took the only shot I knew I’d get, and punched him smack across the jaw, tearing his face in the ragged fashion typical of a reanimated corpse.
And I ran.
Oh God, did I run. Scarface had wasted four of my precious minutes and I still had to make it to the car. When I was only feet away, the last rays of sun dropped in to the night. I dove into the driver’s seat, and slammed the door, tearing the inside handle off in the process.
With the sun gone, the mist of a dozen vamps formed in the distance and headed toward me. I had no idea if Scarface was one of them, but I didn’t care. I shoved the keys in the ignition, and tore out of there as if hell itself was bearing down on me.
Because it was.
And that’s how I got in this predicament, with the mist still gaining ground, and both sides of the car shrouded in that crap. Any second now, they’ll be creeping in through the vents.
That can’t happen.
The dome is so near. The gate’s closed, but I got my remote. The problem is, I can’t go in there with my little hitchhikers hanging on. See, the rule that says “vamps can’t come in without an invitation” only applies to individuals trying to break in. If they come in attached to me or my car, well that’s as good as inviting them over for tea. So, I’ve got to figure out how to lose them.
Only one thing comes to mind, and yeah it’s crazy, but it’s all I got. I stick the remote in my teeth, slam the brakes, and yank the steering wheel hard enough to send my car skidding sideways, lifting up on one side and teetering over to the next. It flips again and again while high-pitched, shriek-y, wail-y, screams fill the night, and the parasites are trashed into oblivion.
When the car finally comes to a rest down in the ravine running parallel to the road, I climb out the best available window and stumble to the dome, stabbing the entry code into the remote along the way. It’s not far, but due to the glass embedded in my skin and what I’m sure are multiple fractures, I can’t go very fast.
Which is why, just before I stagger through the threshold, a freshly materialized Scarface is able to grab onto my neck and cross through with me, sending me crashing to the ground, with him landing on top of me.
And that’s a damn shame, because I’m not in a position to do anything about it. I just close my eyes, and wait for the bite.
But it doesn’t come. Instead, I feel his tense body turn into dead weight and I risk a peek.
Costa is standing there with a stake in his hand, and a grin on his face. “What was that about you never needing to be rescued?” he asks.
I push Scarface’s body off me, sit up, and shrug. “There’s always a first time.”
He laughs, and helps me up, so he can accompany both my precious vial and me to the infirmary.
“C’mon. C’mon!” I urge the speedometer. “Sure, you promise 120 but when it comes down to it, you just don’t have the guts.” Which Costa had assured me it did before allowing me to take the car out on a supply run.
See, here’s the thing. We live in a dome, the few humans who don’t have a death wish, or worship immortality. The problem is such living conditions tend to cut you off from the rest of the world, including sources of food and medication. So, every now and then one of us has to just suck it up, go for it, and hope to God that we make it back before dark when the fog rolls in. And by fog, I mean a herd of vamps very much like the one currently crawling up my tailpipe.
That’s how they travel, you know. They go all misty and join together into this gigantic cloud. And they are fast! I’m talking Go! Speed Racer! Go! Unfortunately, my car does not understand the current need for speed because the back window is now shrouded in fog and little starburst cracks are appearing in the glass.
Tap. Tap. Tap. Little girl, little girl, let us in.
I slam my foot down on the accelerator thinking if I can break it through the floorboards, maybe I can get another 5 mph out of this thing. That’s all I really need. The dome is so close. I can see the rounded top lifting up out of the horizon.
You’re probably wondering how I got myself into such a fine mess, out after dark in a race against evil incarnate. Well, let me tell you if there had been any choice in the matter, I would be sweet dreaming in my bunk right now. But I’m the best runner they got, and I wasn’t about to let any of those little ones die if I could help it.
See, a few years ago, we noticed some of the vamps getting sick, and not with your run of the mill cold either. I’m talking eating away at your flesh from both the in and outside sick.
Fortunately, humans seemed immune to it. At least at first. But then our little ones started getting sick. Not the teenagers or adults, no. Just the little ones. As if there weren’t enough reasons for hating the bloodsuckers.
Anyway, a couple of days ago, one of the under fives started showing the symptoms. We thought she would make it til the next supply run, but this afternoon she took a turn for the worst. She needed antibiotics, and she needed them yesterday.
So with one hour left before sunset, I went to Costa, and had him prep me a car.
“Hey,” he said right before I took off. “I don’t wanna have to come rescue you.”
I raised an eyebrow at him. “When have you ever had to come rescue me?”
He shrugged. “There’s always a first time.”
I laughed, and stomped on the gas.
My first stop was the field where we grow anything that doesn’t fit in the dome. The vamps even help us maintain it. That’s a smart move on their part, if you think about it. It’s sort of like fattening the cow before the slaughter.
I filled the backseat to overflowing, and sped off to my next stop, The Wastelands. Maybe it once passed as a trailer park, but now it was a glorified dump whose inhabitants played both sides of the field, vamp and human. It was the only place in a 500-mile radius where you could buy necessary things; you know gas, medicinal supplies, and bags of blood for those nights when you just can’t catch enough humans.
With twenty minutes remaining, I bagged every bit of food from the back seat, and hauled it over to the Hospital Quarter, really just a couple of Airstreams filled with supplies. I dropped my bags in their “donation” pile, and received one small vial of antibiotics in return.
Then, I turned and made my way back through the towering piles of junk. That’s when I felt it, that inky, oh crap feeling that tells you a vamp is near. But I comforted myself with the knowledge that I still had five minutes of sunlight left, and my car wasn’t that far away.
Of course there were shadows, long ones. I guess I should have been more careful, but I had never seen a vamp desperate enough to rise before sunset. I didn’t even know shadow walking was possible until he materialized right in front of me, only a bite away.
Disease raked his throat as he whispered, “You have something I want.”
I clutched the tiny vile to my chest like it contained the elixir of life, which in a way, it did.
“Little girl,” he rasped. “Please don’t be difficult. I only want the one thing. Then you can be on your way, safe as sunlight.”
Why didn’t I bring a stake? I chided myself. First rule of survival -- always bring a stake.
I pocketed the medicine and said, “Eat wood.”
His scarred face contorted into a sad sort of grimace. “It’s a shame you said that. It didn’t have to be this way.”
My heart hammered in my throat, but I held my ground. Against a healthy vamp, I wouldn’t stand a chance unarmed, but against a sick one…maybe. I balled up my fists, and waited. Scarface was just your typical vamp, right? I was pretty sure I could guess his next move.
And I was right. Fast as lightening, his hand flew to my pocket.
I took the only shot I knew I’d get, and punched him smack across the jaw, tearing his face in the ragged fashion typical of a reanimated corpse.
And I ran.
Oh God, did I run. Scarface had wasted four of my precious minutes and I still had to make it to the car. When I was only feet away, the last rays of sun dropped in to the night. I dove into the driver’s seat, and slammed the door, tearing the inside handle off in the process.
With the sun gone, the mist of a dozen vamps formed in the distance and headed toward me. I had no idea if Scarface was one of them, but I didn’t care. I shoved the keys in the ignition, and tore out of there as if hell itself was bearing down on me.
Because it was.
And that’s how I got in this predicament, with the mist still gaining ground, and both sides of the car shrouded in that crap. Any second now, they’ll be creeping in through the vents.
That can’t happen.
The dome is so near. The gate’s closed, but I got my remote. The problem is, I can’t go in there with my little hitchhikers hanging on. See, the rule that says “vamps can’t come in without an invitation” only applies to individuals trying to break in. If they come in attached to me or my car, well that’s as good as inviting them over for tea. So, I’ve got to figure out how to lose them.
Only one thing comes to mind, and yeah it’s crazy, but it’s all I got. I stick the remote in my teeth, slam the brakes, and yank the steering wheel hard enough to send my car skidding sideways, lifting up on one side and teetering over to the next. It flips again and again while high-pitched, shriek-y, wail-y, screams fill the night, and the parasites are trashed into oblivion.
When the car finally comes to a rest down in the ravine running parallel to the road, I climb out the best available window and stumble to the dome, stabbing the entry code into the remote along the way. It’s not far, but due to the glass embedded in my skin and what I’m sure are multiple fractures, I can’t go very fast.
Which is why, just before I stagger through the threshold, a freshly materialized Scarface is able to grab onto my neck and cross through with me, sending me crashing to the ground, with him landing on top of me.
And that’s a damn shame, because I’m not in a position to do anything about it. I just close my eyes, and wait for the bite.
But it doesn’t come. Instead, I feel his tense body turn into dead weight and I risk a peek.
Costa is standing there with a stake in his hand, and a grin on his face. “What was that about you never needing to be rescued?” he asks.
I push Scarface’s body off me, sit up, and shrug. “There’s always a first time.”
He laughs, and helps me up, so he can accompany both my precious vial and me to the infirmary.
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Short Story: Being Beth Lochman
I woke up in Beth Lochman’s body.
I know. It sounds crazy. But when I opened my eyes this morning, I was in her room, enveloped in her pukariffic pink gingham comforter.
Knowing I hadn’t spent the night at her house, I got up to see what was going on, and accidentally got a look in her mirror. I had to stifle a scream when I saw her round eyes staring back at me.
Beth Lochman…the meanest girl in school.
Seeing that evil reflecting back almost killed me right then and there. And maybe it would have, if it hadn’t been for her mother pounding furiously on her/my door, yelling for her/me to get dressed.
I ignored her and crawled back into bed. I was in the middle of some nightmare. That was the only explanation.
“Beth!” her mother bellowed again.
Ugh! I had no desire to be Beth, so why was I dreaming I was her? She never let a day pass when she didn’t torture someone. I guess being pretty and popular means you get away with more stuff.
Regardless, I was much happier being me.
And being me meant I got out of bed, determined to make the best of things. It was just a dream, and I was still Jules Camden. I just looked different, that’s all.
I rummaged through Beth’s closet, uncovering a black t-shirt and a pair of jeans that still had the non-designer tags on them. Not her style, but certainly mine.
In the kitchen, I grabbed a powdered donut just in time to hear her mother yell again. “Hurry up! Ben’s here.”
I choked, and powdered sugar sprayed all over my shirt.
Ben? As in Beth’s boyfriend Ben? The same Ben who stops my breath every time he speaks to me? So that’s why I was dreaming I was her!
And because dreams have impeccable timing, Ben appeared at just that moment, laughing as I dusted off my shirt.
Reclaiming my dignity, I proudly said something I would never say to him in real life. “Didn’t you hear? Powdered sugar is the new black.”
He laughed again and slipped his hand into mine. I couldn’t help but feel a little guilty. Dream or not, he wasn’t actually my boyfriend. But that didn’t stop my insides from turning all warm and squishy.
When we got to school, my happiness completely evaporated. Peering at us from behind a corner, was me. I mean Jules. Who I was sure was actually Beth, due to the cranky look on her face when she saw me with Ben.
I got distracted helping some kid who had dropped his books, and when I stood back up, she was gone. But Ben was there, staring at me with the strangest look on his face.
“What?” I asked suspiciously.
“Nothing. You just seem different today.”
He didn’t know the half of it. “Good different or bad different?”
His face lit up with a smile. “Good different.”
Realizing a little dream flirting wouldn’t hurt, I smiled back.
Ben’s glow continued at lunch when I gave money to some girl who had lost hers. And he looked like he was ready to kiss me when I told off one of Beth’s friends for purposely tripping a trumpet player.
Once or twice, I caught Jules/Beth scowling at me, but I didn’t care. It was about time Beth was nice to someone, even if it was only in a dream.
At the end of the day I was heading toward the parking lot, and my face appeared out of the shadows. “Unfreakinbelievable. I switch bodies with you and Ben still likes you better than me.”
“You know what’s unbelievable?” I shot back. “Even in my dreams you’re a jerk.”
“This ain’t a dream, babe.” She held up an ornate gold box. “You remember yesterday when I bumped into you? The electric shock?”
I did remember. And terror slithered down my spine in response. Sure, part of me wanted to call her crazy, but seeing as I was staring at her from her own body, I had to believe her. Plus, if I were dreaming, wouldn’t I have woken up by now?
“What is that?” I asked.
“A Spirit Shifter. My dad bought it off some voodoo priestess in Brazil.”
“But why would you-”
“Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed.”
“Noticed what?” Maybe she was crazy after all.
“The way Ben stares at you in the hallways. The way he should be staring at me. I heard he was going to dump me and ask you to the dance. So I thought -”
“That you’d switch places with me, and he’d come running to you? You’re an idiot you know that? Newsflash. He’s probably sick of you being such a-”
“Whatever. Just give me your hand so we can switch back.”
I did, happy to end this waking nightmare. She pressed a button on the device. A shock flew through my body, but I was still looking at myself through Beth’s eyes.
“Nothing happened.”
“Who’s the idiot now? We switched when we were asleep remember? It’ll happen tonight.”
And it did.
I went back to myself, and unfortunately, so did Beth, with Ben standing quietly at her side. Then one day, he sat at my lunch table instead of hers.
After school, he offered me a ride home. And in my driveway, he said the most surprising thing. “I’ve had a crush on you for a while.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. There was this day a few weeks ago where Beth did all the stuff you usually do. It’s like she was channeling you.” He looked at me, embarrassed for saying it. “I know. It sounds weird.”
“Actually, it doesn’t.”
“Well anyway, that was the day I realized I wanted someone who was like that all the time. I wanted you.” He laced his fingers with mine, and the warm, squishy feeling returned with fireworks and explosions. And this time, I knew it wasn’t a dream.
I know. It sounds crazy. But when I opened my eyes this morning, I was in her room, enveloped in her pukariffic pink gingham comforter.
Knowing I hadn’t spent the night at her house, I got up to see what was going on, and accidentally got a look in her mirror. I had to stifle a scream when I saw her round eyes staring back at me.
Beth Lochman…the meanest girl in school.
Seeing that evil reflecting back almost killed me right then and there. And maybe it would have, if it hadn’t been for her mother pounding furiously on her/my door, yelling for her/me to get dressed.
I ignored her and crawled back into bed. I was in the middle of some nightmare. That was the only explanation.
“Beth!” her mother bellowed again.
Ugh! I had no desire to be Beth, so why was I dreaming I was her? She never let a day pass when she didn’t torture someone. I guess being pretty and popular means you get away with more stuff.
Regardless, I was much happier being me.
And being me meant I got out of bed, determined to make the best of things. It was just a dream, and I was still Jules Camden. I just looked different, that’s all.
I rummaged through Beth’s closet, uncovering a black t-shirt and a pair of jeans that still had the non-designer tags on them. Not her style, but certainly mine.
In the kitchen, I grabbed a powdered donut just in time to hear her mother yell again. “Hurry up! Ben’s here.”
I choked, and powdered sugar sprayed all over my shirt.
Ben? As in Beth’s boyfriend Ben? The same Ben who stops my breath every time he speaks to me? So that’s why I was dreaming I was her!
And because dreams have impeccable timing, Ben appeared at just that moment, laughing as I dusted off my shirt.
Reclaiming my dignity, I proudly said something I would never say to him in real life. “Didn’t you hear? Powdered sugar is the new black.”
He laughed again and slipped his hand into mine. I couldn’t help but feel a little guilty. Dream or not, he wasn’t actually my boyfriend. But that didn’t stop my insides from turning all warm and squishy.
When we got to school, my happiness completely evaporated. Peering at us from behind a corner, was me. I mean Jules. Who I was sure was actually Beth, due to the cranky look on her face when she saw me with Ben.
I got distracted helping some kid who had dropped his books, and when I stood back up, she was gone. But Ben was there, staring at me with the strangest look on his face.
“What?” I asked suspiciously.
“Nothing. You just seem different today.”
He didn’t know the half of it. “Good different or bad different?”
His face lit up with a smile. “Good different.”
Realizing a little dream flirting wouldn’t hurt, I smiled back.
Ben’s glow continued at lunch when I gave money to some girl who had lost hers. And he looked like he was ready to kiss me when I told off one of Beth’s friends for purposely tripping a trumpet player.
Once or twice, I caught Jules/Beth scowling at me, but I didn’t care. It was about time Beth was nice to someone, even if it was only in a dream.
At the end of the day I was heading toward the parking lot, and my face appeared out of the shadows. “Unfreakinbelievable. I switch bodies with you and Ben still likes you better than me.”
“You know what’s unbelievable?” I shot back. “Even in my dreams you’re a jerk.”
“This ain’t a dream, babe.” She held up an ornate gold box. “You remember yesterday when I bumped into you? The electric shock?”
I did remember. And terror slithered down my spine in response. Sure, part of me wanted to call her crazy, but seeing as I was staring at her from her own body, I had to believe her. Plus, if I were dreaming, wouldn’t I have woken up by now?
“What is that?” I asked.
“A Spirit Shifter. My dad bought it off some voodoo priestess in Brazil.”
“But why would you-”
“Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed.”
“Noticed what?” Maybe she was crazy after all.
“The way Ben stares at you in the hallways. The way he should be staring at me. I heard he was going to dump me and ask you to the dance. So I thought -”
“That you’d switch places with me, and he’d come running to you? You’re an idiot you know that? Newsflash. He’s probably sick of you being such a-”
“Whatever. Just give me your hand so we can switch back.”
I did, happy to end this waking nightmare. She pressed a button on the device. A shock flew through my body, but I was still looking at myself through Beth’s eyes.
“Nothing happened.”
“Who’s the idiot now? We switched when we were asleep remember? It’ll happen tonight.”
And it did.
I went back to myself, and unfortunately, so did Beth, with Ben standing quietly at her side. Then one day, he sat at my lunch table instead of hers.
After school, he offered me a ride home. And in my driveway, he said the most surprising thing. “I’ve had a crush on you for a while.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. There was this day a few weeks ago where Beth did all the stuff you usually do. It’s like she was channeling you.” He looked at me, embarrassed for saying it. “I know. It sounds weird.”
“Actually, it doesn’t.”
“Well anyway, that was the day I realized I wanted someone who was like that all the time. I wanted you.” He laced his fingers with mine, and the warm, squishy feeling returned with fireworks and explosions. And this time, I knew it wasn’t a dream.
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