Thanks for giving me an impetus. Maybe I’ll get off my butt and write more.

Child’s play indeed. Nice back story-why the auditorium, what is Jules (an actress, producer, cleaner??), what time is it, why are they there playing games and who else is in on the game? I sensed that things could easily be about to turn nasty; maybe Jules falls down some stairs sustaining a life altering injury, or a violent intruder bursts in with dark consequences. Or maybe that’s just me…

The story certainly stands on its own, but could easily be developed as the opening of a novel. Well done!

Please note that the contest closes on 30-09-09 in case you want to enter another piece of excellent flashy fiction…

CY

Child’s Play

“No. Not this time. It’s not going to be me,” Jules said to herself. The darkness made it hard to find her way through the building, but she was fairly certain that the doors to the auditorium were down this hallway.

If she could only get inside, she knew where she could hide. Only a few people knew about the trapdoor that Jules had found when she was working on the set for “Streetcar.” She prayed the auditorium doors would be unlocked.

Just a few more steps. There were the doors, and they were unlocked. Jules knew she had to be very quiet because the doors squeaked. Don’t let them slam shut. Now down the aisle to the stage and the stairs that led to the wings.

Jules tried to calm herself, deep breaths. In. Out. Her breathing sounded too loud in her ears. She moved to the right, behind the stack of folding chairs. There it was—the spiral staircase. Its black metal risers blended in with the dark curtains. Jules climbed the stairs carefully.

Jules remembered how surprised she had been when she bumped her head on the ceiling and a panel moved. She had been at the top of the stairs working on a backlight. She was certain no one had noticed the moving panel, but Jules knew that it was there. She just had to reach it in time and she would be home free.

She paused. Was that movement in the aisle? She couldn’t tell. She just needed a few seconds. It was movement, an indistinct shape, coming towards the stage. Jules pushed up on the panel slowly and felt it move; there it was—safety. Jules prepared to pull herself up through the opening just as something grabbed her ankle.

“Tag. You’re it, Jules.”

So glad you gave it a go-loved the point of view…was it a labrador or jack russell??

Great work!

CY

Sun Bathing

The sun was beating on my back, giving me glorious warmth. Nearby, I heard a bird singing. I could have fallen asleep then if it weren’t for the fly on my nose. Hate flies, especially those big black ones. I remember the day I caught one on my tongue, nasty taste in my mouth for hours. I know better now, so I just push the fly off my nose and close my eyes again.

Dreaming about the field again, how it stretches on in every direction, no end in sight. So many happy times in that field: running full out, warm breezes, no worries. Then after, a cool drink of water and a nap.

Then came the time after the field, when nothing was green, just cold and wet. I hated to venture outside because I knew that my black hair would get soaked, and there would be no sun to warm me. I longed for the warmth again, but each day brought only more gloom, more cold, so I spent my time curled up on the couch, occasionally calling out warnings when I heard sounds of danger outside.

Eventually, the days began to warm; there were new smells on the air: It smelled green. That’s the only way I can describe it: green. New sounds, too—birds, frogs. And I began to hear that loud roaring sound—the one that came from the metal monster that ate grass. I attacked one once, tried to make it be silent. I was banished to the inside until my human was finished battling the monster. Now I know to leave them alone. I wait until the roar is silent before I run outside and lie down next to my favorite bush, the sun beating on my back, flies buzzing my floppy ears.

Thanks for joining in!

That’s a very descriptive piece by the way-I am still shaking. My wife is 81/2 months pregnant so I’ll keep it from her for now.

The most important thing is that you tell it like it is with vivid images, cut with softer memories. There is a nice balance that I enjoyed.

I look forward to reading more!

CY

You asked for a link to a sample of my writing–this is the only think I have posted online at the moment–be warned that it is –ah, graphic, and not casual reading. Especially for guys. :/
It’s an excerpt from my WIP.

http://whistlingfire.com/2009/02/25/blacksheepsings/

CY