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Friday Fictioneers: Sharp Ends, Part 10

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Sharp Ends Series:/ Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 / Part 10 /

As soon as I saw this prompt I knew what to write. The link to Madison Wood’s website where friday fictioneers is done, is here. Constructive criticism is welcome, I hope you enjoy.

 

 

Her emotional dam collapsed then, her thoughts and emotions spilling out like a waterfall.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry David! Because of you we were drowning in debt and you were drowning yourself in alcohol. I was angry at you and confused and he was just there, your brother helped me, cared for me and loved me, and then he left, and pretended it had never happened!” She cried, her guilt had its jaws tightly latched to her and was now tearing at her, spilling her blood.

She sobbed, tears and emotions saturating her, and then he was there, the man she had fallen in love with was holding her and helping her. She suddenly stopped and looked at him, in his abrasive palm was a collection of red berries.

“We eat these and we’ll never have to worry again.” David leaned forward and whispered softly.

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Friday Fictioneers: Sharp Ends, Part 9

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Sharp Ends Series:/ Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 / Part 10 /

I remember this photo from Madison’s old blog, great photo. Last week I was kind of slack with checking my blog, I’ve had so much homework though. Anyway, the link to Madison Wood’s blog is here. Constructive criticism is welcome, hope you enjoy.

She staggered to her feet, looked about and screamed. She beat her fist against the side of the planes in frustration.

“Why aren’t I dead!” She repeated over and over until she slumped down in a softly upholstered seat. A moan rippled through the sudden silence, she crept towards the sound and saw him unconscious in a mangled heap on the ground. She inspected him for wounds and found he had a nasty gash in his forehead. She jumped up and began dragging him towards the sound of water, which wasn’t far away.

Once at the small creek she cleaned his gash and sat peacefully, watching as a dragonfly skimmed across the water as majestically as a ballerina.

“Why did you kill my brother?” He suddenly asked, his voice slurred and almost incoherent, she jumped at the sudden sound of his voice.

“Because he cheated on me.” She whispered.

“Ha! Karma’s a b***h isn’t it babe.”

Four Lane Road to a Insignificant Trail

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While fiddling with my blog I managed to change a setting and now I can’t get updates from the blogs I follow on new posts. (If you know how I can fix this please tell me!) Anyway, after about 2 weeks of not getting updated I’ve kind of lost connections with the blogs I follow, the last 2 days however, I have decided to flick through a couple. It seems a lot of writers are having the similar troubles with novel-writing like myself.

I’m 14 and started writing novels about 4-3 years ago, it’s humorous to trek down memory lane and see some of my first works of art. There’s about 30 stories saved on my little 2GB Toshiba memory stick, all small sparks of ideas I had once upon a time and all unfinished. Most novels I start, are lucky if they have the first chapter completed, it seems that the only 1 novel I wrote really got far and it was semi plagiarised and also my first attempt at a novel. It’s 108KB big, or 46 300 words long, the second biggest story I’ve attempted is 49KB, or 14 900 words, which I gave up on a month ago, it was of a completely different genre. (The bigger one was fantasy the other sci-fi).

 Most writers problems are editing, I leave that until I finish, of course I never finish though. My problem is that I feel my plot sucks, it was once a great idea which I believed would be the one, it is later dumped because I think the plot grew to be terrible. I can write the first chapter fine, it’s when the story becomes 4 chapters long that I decide I don’t like it, and I think it’s because it’s becomes too big for me to hold.

So now I’ve identified my problem, I need to prevent it from happening, or at least fix it. But how?! I believe my blog has helped me immensely, now I hope my few 33 followers or any other bloggers can help me.

Friday Fictioneers: Sharp Ends, Part 8

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Sharp Ends:/ Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 /Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 /

Whew, this week’s prompt doesn’t seem too hard. If you want to join friday fictioneers, great! Click here. Hope you enjoy and constructive criticism is welcome.

 

 

It was definite, the plane was crashing, they were falling to their death and yet she felt at ease, almost happy. Out the window, she could see the engine had turned into a raging ball of fire, smoke billowing from it like ash from a volcano. The fire seethed like a living creature, bringing down its prey, he lunged for her hand and began begging, she was ignorant to him though.

“Brace for impact!” The speaker’s blared, she kicked him away and cowered beneath her arms, waiting for relief from her guilt. Suddenly the plane collided with earth, the immense pressure knocking her from her seat, she began rolling and crashing about. She blacked out for a second before regaining consciousness as the plane skidded to a halt. She looked up, shaking all over, the cockpit of the plane had disappeared, revealing a forest which nestled beneath the mountains they had recently flown over.

Friday Fictioneers: Sharp Ends, Part 7

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Sharp Ends Series: / Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 /

“Oh dear” is what I thought when I saw this weeks prompt, “Is Madison trying to make my brain explode!” Well, I’ve done it, and surprisingly, I think it’s a bit too much over 100 word. Anyway hope you enjoy, constructive criticism is welcome, and Madison’s blog is here.

 

The plane lurched and pitched like an ocean liner in a storm, she didn’t cry in fear though, she would be happy if she died now, the pain of regret and guilt would wash away as easily as soap suds. 

 He yelped though, struggling to stand, he swayed like a drunken man as he stumbled down the aisle, it reminded her of their barbabic wedding. She remembered the humiliation of that day well, like a film it played in her head in her last hours of living.

Him tottering into the chapel late, eyes blurry and bloodshot, an empty bottle of whiskey in his hand. Outside the chapel there had been a blimp in the sky, everyone had pointed excitedly, but he had fainted from the nausea of looking up at it. 

“Cathrine!” He yelled at her, stumbling back down the aisle towards her and falling to his knee beside her. “I’m sorry Cathrine I am, I love you, I do, but why did you do it?” She simply stared at him and answered bluntly.

“Do you remember our wedding?”