A Walk On The Beach

So, here's this week's prompt from Write On Edge -

In honor of the first full week of summer here in New England, I gave you 450 words to write about sand.

Now I'll admit, I went a tiny bit over.  But, again, this is an exerpt from my Camp NaNoWriMo story and I didn't get back to try to edit it as I'm frantically typing trying to finish enough words to "win".  I know there are a few spots that could be tightened a little but hopefully it isn't too bad.  Let me know what you think!

He queried the mainframe for information about the judge and how to submit a case to her.  It took him a bit but he found it.  There were several petition forms to fill out to get the case on the schedule.  Shawn completed the forms and submitted them as instructed by the mainframe.  Now it was back to a waiting game.  Again.

What do you expect?  It is the military.  Hurry up and wait, chimed in the little voice.

Shawn cracked a sarcastic grin at that.  It was true.  It didn’t help make the wait any better but it was so very true.  He wandered around his flat for a little while, looking for something to do.  Shawn couldn’t find much.  So he decided to take a walk outside.

Shawn walked without any real goal in mind.  The movement was what he needed, not the destination.  He found himself at the ocean after a while.  Miles of white sand speckled with black like pepper flakes amongst the salt stretched out in either direction.

Feeling impulsive, Shawn peeled off his boots and socks, rolled up his pants and started out onto that beach.  The sand felt both hot and cold at the same time.  The grains themselves were rough on his feet, but all together they were soft, shifting with every step he took.  Closer to that line where the surf pounded away in fruitless fury, the sand grew damp, sticking to his feet.  The scratchiness felt good.

It wasn’t his lake back home, but the roaring heartbeat of the waves as they washed away any trace of human habitation in the sand in a never ending cycle felt familiar.  And, right now, familiar meant calming.  Only Dani could bring him true peace, he knew that without a doubt.  But she was out of his reach right now.

Maybe forever unless I get damn lucky, he thought as he walked.

As the sun began to set, turning the waves brilliant shades of gold and orange, Shawn turned back.

The waves had done their jobs well.  Not a trace of his passage was left in the sand.  It got him thinking.  Were the things he’d done that easy to erase as well?  He’d made so many mistakes in his life.  It would be so nice to erase those mistakes just as thoroughly as the ocean had obliterated his tracks.

But if wishes were apples we’d all be eating apple pie every day, the voice in his head pointed out.

Shawn made his way back splashing through the edges of the waves to where he’d left his boots.  Wiping the sand from his feet, he donned his socks and boots to begin the trek back to his flat.  Small grains rubbed his feet as he walked, remnants reminding him there is no such thing as doing things over.

Would You Be Interested?

I've been contemplating something and I'd like some feedback from ya'll.

I was thinking about starting a weekly or bi-weekly writing prompt on here.  Basically the format would be I'd put up a picture and give you a few days to write a piece inspired by it.

Here's what I'm wondering:
     1. Would anyone be interested in doing this?
     2. Thoughts on word counts - do I put a limit on or not?
     3. How much time should I give between picture prompts if I do go ahead with this?

Please let me know what your thoughts are.  This would be strictly picture prompts.  I've looked around and thought this might be an interesting addition to the different types of writing prompt groups out there.  Maybe not.

Like I said, feedback on this thought is greatly appreciated.  Thanks!

Consequences

I had fun with this week's Write On Edge Prompt.  So, I decided to do another take on it.  As a reminder we had 100 words to change one of the following phrases into active voice:

[he/she/I] was devastated by [...]
[feeling] was experienced by [...]
[person/thing] was possessed by [...]

Here's another 100, well in this case 99, words in Emma's story.  If you've missed it, most of the story can be found under the One Night in Dusseldorf tab up top.  The last 100 words were posted yesterday under No Passive Voices!

Kris turned without a word and led James and me deeper into the woods.  He moved with an incredible grace.  His walk had to have devastated hearts everywhere.  Kris had powerful, wide shoulders as well.  But it was the confidence flowing from every step that kept drawing my attention.  That kind of self assurance was magnetic.

A predator, I thought, That’s what he reminds me of.

Walking behind him, I experienced a déjà vu feeling.  Something attracted me to him and this place.

Little did I know at the time how right I was about Kris and his magnetism.

No Passive Voices!

I know I haven't written much other than the prompts at Write On Edge lately.  I could use the excuse that I'm still trying to get ready for this baby or that Camp NaNoWriMo has taken up quite a bit of my time.  Both of which are true.  But I feel bad for neglecting to post more often.  That being said, I promise, there'll be more coming soon!

Now, on to the prompt for the week -

For Today, we gave you a short challenge. Three fairly generic passive phrases. Your goal wass to make them active in a short scene, either fiction or non-fiction. You could choose one, two, or all three to play with, but you only had 100 words.
[he/she/I] was devastated by [...]
[feeling] was experienced by [...]
[person/thing] was possessed by [...]

I had to return to Emma, Kris and James in One Night in Dusseldorf for this one.  It came in at 98 words.

As I weighed the options, something strange possessed me – a reckless, wild feeling.  I didn’t care what anyone else thought.  Kris offered me passage into an exciting, dangerous world.  I didn’t know if I’d survive it.  I didn’t care.  And that wasn’t like me.

I think they knew that spirit possessed me.  I saw it in the way they looked at me.  It was as if they knew what it was, as if they knew the words hovering on the edge of my lips.

My heart pounding and hands shaking I replied, “Lead on.  I’m seeing this through.”

Fate Gets Ironic

Once again, I am a little early getting this up.  But, this week's prompt worked so well into my Camp NaNoWriMo piece, I couldn't help but use it.  Especially since I'm behind on my Camp piece and am trying frantically to catch up.  Anyways, here's the prompt:

This week, write a fiction or creative non-fiction piece where fate plays a prominent role. You can write from the position of a complete belief or absolute disbelief in the role of fate in our lives or the lives of our characters.
You have 400 words to play with; come back Friday to link-up!

Here's my take on it...

Quicker than a subspace transmission, he pounced.  Shawn was a little surprised when his stalker fought back with a substantial amount of skill.  However, Shawn had a good six inches in height and reach on his attacker.  Plus, Shawn’s training came from Eli and Eli was among the best hand to hand combat practitioners Black Ops had ever produced.  As a result, Shawn wasn’t far behind Eli for skill and that was enough to subdue his attacker.

“Who,” Shawn took a deep breath, “are you?  What do you want?”

“Let go of me!” a feminine voice demanded in response.

The shock of her voice was enough for Shawn to loosen his pin on her for just a moment.  She jerked into a curled position on her left side disrupting his balance.  Kicking out she shoved him off of her and leapt to her feet.

“Nice move.  Still not gonna get you out of here without answering my questions,” Shawn rolled to his feet in one smooth motion, careful to remain positioned between her and the door.

Snarling, the woman pulled the utility cap and balaclava off.  Shawn couldn’t breathe.  This was the ultimate sucker punch.  It was Dani.

“You weren’t suppose to know I was here.”

“What,” Shawn was still scrambling to pull his thoughts together, “What are you doing here?”

“I was sent to keep a covert eye on you.  Make sure you were really going to finish this mission,” Dani stuffed the utility cap in her back pocket and balaclava in a thigh pocket rather viciously.

“Who sent you?  Major Wade?”

“No,” she turned to look out the window.

“Then who?”

They stood as if frozen long enough that Shawn was beginning to wonder if Dani was going to answer him.

“General Howard.”

Her reply was so soft he strained to hear her.  But the bitterness in her voice was loud and clear, even if the volume wasn’t.

This whole situation just got weirder, Shawn reflected as he processed the new information, As if it wasn’t weird enough.  I haven’t seen Dani again since that transport years ago.  Now it’s like I can’t get away from her.  And she’s working for the man who just recently was trying to torture me to death.  What the hell is up with that?

Several commenters have expressed quite a bit of interest in Shawn and his story.  His story actually starts back in my first NaNoWriMo piece - Tattoos.  You can find it on Smashwords.  It does still need a little more editing, which I hope to do after finishing Shawn's story.  I'll let ya'll know when Shawn's story goes up there as well.

Thanks for stopping by!

Write On Edge: To the Moon

This week's prompt from Write On Edge: I gave you have 500 words to write a piece, fiction or non-fiction, which includes the phrase “to the moon.”

Let me put one minor disclaimer on my take on the prompt this week.  I'm attempting to do Camp NaNoWriMo this month as well.  So, this is an exerpt from Shawn's story - which is what I am working on for Camp.  That being said, please bear in mind that this is not very polished yet.  With that, please enjoy another snippet in Shawn's life.

Shawn got clearance and eased out of the launch bay.  Once he was clear of the space station, he set a course to the moon.  On the way, he explored some of the finer capabilities of his new fighter.  All too soon he was requesting landing clearance from Makeb hanger.  Upon landing, Shawn secured his fighter and headed for the Nor’Wind Bar.

“Hey, handsome, looking for a little company tonight?” a gorgeous brunette caressed Shawn’s arm within seconds of him setting foot in the bar.

“Thanks, but I’m looking for someone,” he tried to disentangle himself from her.

“I can be her.  I can be anyone you want.”

“Trust me on this one.  You look like you’re an amazing woman.  But I’m not looking for that kind of company at this particular moment.”

“Let me know if you change your mind, but don’t wait too late.  I’m not the type to wait forever,” she sauntered away.

Shawn was convinced she’d done it to rub in what he was missing.  And she was fine.  But he needed to find Kristiana.  This was the last place he knew she’d been working.  He hoped she was still here.

He made his way through the crowded lounge area to the bar that spanned the entire length of the building.  Scanning the faces behind the bar, he spotted her on the far end.

“As I live and breathe,” she looked genuinely surprised as she caught sight of Shawn pulling back one of the stools., “What in the bloody blazes are you doing back here?”

“Lookin’ for some intel if ya got any.”

“If you ain’t careful ‘round here, you’ll be lookin’ for more than that.  I’m off in an hour.  We can talk then.”

Shawn nursed a couple of Bakarin beers while he waited for Kristiana.  An hour and a half later she joined him at the corner table where he’d secluded himself.  Looking around first, she slipped him a memory chip.

“So what kind of intel are ya lookin’ for?”

Shawn palmed the chip as he picked up his beer, “What’s the state of things on Delarin III station?”

“I can tell ya things ain’t good.  I hear more ‘n’ more complaints comin’ from those assigned there.  Yer name’s come up recently.”

Shawn paused, beer half way to his mouth when he heard that.

“Someone purty high up’s got somethin’ of a hard on for ya.  Seems ya did somethin’ a while back that really put his dander up ‘n’ he’s been lookin’ for a way back atcha since then.”

Taking a slow drink to buy himself some time to think, he set his beer down before speaking, “Heard anythin’ else?”

“Yeah.  Sounds like this guy’s got some plan to getcha now.  Seems he’s been braggin’ ‘bout finally bein’ able to put you outta his misery.  Not much more than that comin’ outta Delarin Station.  Least ways nothin’ beyond the normal bull.”