Third Campaigner Challenge: Show Not Tell

The third challenge is write a blog post in 300 words or less, excluding the title. The post can be in any format, whether flash fiction, non-fiction, humorous blog musings, poem, etc. The blog post should show:

  • that it’s morning,
  • that a man or a woman (or both) is at the beach
  • that the MC (main character) is bored
  • that something stinks behind where he/she is sitting
  • that something surprising happens.

Just for fun, see if you can involve all five senses AND include these random words: “synbatec,” “wastopaneer,” and “tacise.” (NB. these words are completely made up and are not intended to have any meaning other than the one you give them).

This is my attempt. It is exactly 296 words. I am number 6 in the linky list, if anyone feels inspired to vote for me.

Title: Broken Islands

Dina smelled sulfur and blood and blinked open one eye. This beach was smooth white sand, palm trees and an ocean still tinted with the colors of the rising sun. It was empty. Sunrise was too early for normal people to up.

She sniffed the air, just to be sure. Nothing. Maybe she was smelling things out of boredom. Dina considered the idea and sat up slowly.

She shoved her feet into pink flip-flops. A big ridiculous sunflower plastic decorated the straps. They were the least flashy pair the big island souvenir store stocked. Dina scowled at her feet and wished for home, where she didn’t have to hop two islands to buy simple black flip-flops.

The smell came again and disappeared as quickly as before. Dina rose, excited for the first time since her boss forced this island vacation on her. As if boredom on an isolated island would be good for her. Well, tacise him!

She stepped out cautiously, careful of her balance. The flip-flops did very little to cushion her banged-up foot. At least the sand was still cool.

The smell came again and this time she was ready for it. Sulfur and blood, two smells she knew well, and something else, something rancid and sweet. Like wastopaneer.

Oh no. Dina called her wolf forward. The change was fast and painless, like every change since the last mission. Joy bubbled up in her when her wolf burst free. Four feet planted in the cool sand, she howled her joy to the sky.

Her hind foot still ached, but the smells were much sharper in her wolf form. Dina lowered her nose, sniffing.  Sulfur, blood, wastopaneer.

Ha! Death had followed her to this remote island. She couldn’t regret it; anything was better than boredom.

First Campaigner Challenge: The door swung open

The First Campaign Challenge is:

Write a short story/flash fiction story in 200 words or less, excluding the title. It can be in any format, including a poem. Begin the story with the words, “The door swung open” These four words will be included in the word count.

If you want to give yourself an added challenge (optional), use the same beginning words and end with the words: “the door swung shut.” (also included in the word count)

For those who want an even greater challenge, make your story 200 words EXACTLY!

My attempt at this is exactly 200 words, sans title.

Title: Black Rainbows

The door swung open and he stormed into our bedroom. A black t-shirt dangled from his hand. His bare body glistened from his shower.

“I don’t do black,” he announced.

I lifted my gaze from his junk. “Your mother had it especially made.”

The words “Edward and Sam: 1st Anniversary” were printed on it in large rainbow-colored letters. My name marched up one side; Edward’s marched down the other. I liked it.

“She knows I detest black! She was counting on you to make me wear it.” He glowered at me, as if I’d betrayed him.

She knew; she gave me a white shirt just in case. “There is nothing wrong with black.”

“It’s hideous.”

His dislike of black clothes made no sense. “She’s making a statement. The rest of the family will be dressed in rainbow colors. Let her make it.”

“I don’t want to make any statement!”

“It’ll make your mother happy,” I reminded him.

He grumbled under his breath.

I put my hands on my thighs; his eyes followed my fingers down and lingered a moment too long.

“I’ll make it worth your while to wear the shirt.”

His eyes took on that gleam I loved.

If you want to like me on Rachael Harrie’s linkedly list, I am number 55.