Write for Ten-Vulnerable

I’m running behind on my Camp NANOWRIMO manuscript. Not dangerously behind, I have about 13,000 words and will be able to catch up, but I don’t want to get further behind. I’d really like to get caught up this weekend.  One of the ways I’m doing this is by actually using the Write for 10 writing prompts. This is a website that provides a prompt and encourages people to use the prompt to write for 10 minutes flat. The subject and the quality of the writing doesn’t matter, the only thing you have to worry about is getting the words down. 

The writing prompt on Tuesday was the word vulnerable. I took the word, grabbed the two main characters from Wishing For … and let ‘er rip. I’m quite pleased with the snippet I got, and managed to add 300 hundred words to my word count.

His fingers stroked along the side of my cheek and he stared deeply into my eyes, his gaze so intense so steady, it felt like he was able to see directly into my soul. He leaned forward and brushed his lips across my forehead. “I love you,” he murmured, his voice so low I barely heard it. That didn’t stop the pain from slashing through me.

                It wasn’t the first time I’d heard the words. A couple of the guys I’d dated had said the same thing from time to time. The difference between now and then was that I always knew the reason behind their declaration. They usually wanted to get me naked and horizontal, or I already was.

                Cooper’s different. He was too good, too honest, to try using such a declaration as an attempt to get into my pants. I knew him well enough to know that if the only thing he wanted was sex, he’d say so. That’s just the kind of guy he is.

I closed my eyes and swallow. Why was he doing to too me right now.

                He loved me. Looking at him, feeling his touch, I knew he spoke the truth, or at least what he believed to be the truth. Right here, in this moment, he loved me. What really disturbed me was the way he wasn’t afraid to tell me, how he could willingly leave himself vulnerable to rejection.

                I wondered what would happen if I turned away, if I left him standing there with his heart in his hands and love in his eyes.  I wondered if I was really cold-blooded and bitchy enough to do such a thing to him.

                This would be so much easier if the only thing he wanted was to get inside my pants.

Friday Fictioneer: 8/3/12

I'm participating in Camp NANOWRIMO this month, and I'm challenging myself to use Madison's photo prompts to build on my project. Hopefully it works.

This week's FF piece came in at 131 words, longer than I wanted, but I cut it from the original 172 and felt that removing more would fracture the story. 

The photo prompt provided by Madison wood is a bleeding grape vine. 

Thanks for stopping by. Any and all comments criticisms are always appreciated and given a great deal of consideration. Thanks again!

Thief

Cara grinned, showing the scrapes of grape skins caught on her teeth. “Look Keagen. They’re everywhere.”

                She liberated another grape from the vine. “You’re going to get sick if you eat too many.” I warned before moving to the shade of a Maple tree to wait out her grazing.  No sooner had I settled against the trunk, when Cara screamed.  

                I scooped her up. Her arms locked around my neck as the blood drained from my face and a scream clawed at my throat. Globs of puss dripped from the grapevines, falling to the ground in what looked like a melted pile of rotting brain tissue.

                A lanky boy stepped around the end of the vine, studying us as a slow smile spread across his face.

                “Good,” he said “more thieves.”

Now that you've read my piece, you need to check out some awe-insipiring writers also participating in this week's Friday Fictioneers. They can be found right here.

Day 1 of Camp NaNoWriMo-What I'm writing

Camp NanoWrimo started today and I’m planning on participating. I’ve been looking forward to this month because an idea for a story has been niggling at me. The last time that happened was when I was starting to think about DWARFED. 

The difference between this as yet untitled and DWARFED is that other than the basic ideas and a couple mental images of what the main characters look like, I really don’t know much about this story. I’m writing by the seat of my pants and looking forward to seeing what adventures lay ahead. The lack of plot simply means endless possibilities.

The inspiration behind this story is a couple of different bits of micro-fiction I wrote earlier this month. One about an abandonedbuilding we explored during a trip to Indiana. The other about a bird that makes daily pilgrimage to a cemetery. 

I’m also planning on borrowing heavily from Elton John’s Levon while writing. I don't understand the exact meaning behind some of the lyrics, but I love the song's simple beauty.