Six Sentence Sunday: Farewell

What a bittersweet Sunday this is, the departure from our beloved Six Sentence Sunday. It has been a heck of a ride. A big thank you to the organizers and all the hard work and effort they put in to make SSS a unique opportunity for writers and fans of writing, as well as a wonderful Sunday tradition. For this special occasion I'll share the very same excerpt, the first excerpt I ever posted for Six Sentence Sunday, including six sentences from Spellbloom, the epic fantasy adventure, and my first unfinished novel ever. Yay! ;) Have a great Sunday!

 

She came to realize that Nian and his friends truly were the voiceless of this world, dispossessed and completely stripped of their rights as human beings. As she thought about the inequity of the very system she was about to become a part of, her strides turned into furious stomps.
They reached the grove at noon and found a shady site amidst the trees where Kaley leaned against a mighty stem. Her feet were sore from walking, and she felt the bark clinging to her from behind, providing some much needed relief to her back. 

Nian sat down across from her, huddling up against a bulky stub of a tree. He didn't look tired, just hungry, and once again Kaley marvelled at his resilience against physical strain. 

I'm not very good at drawing, but that never stopped me from sketching all the major waypoints. This is where Kaley and Nian will be going next. 

WeWriWa, We're Coming!

Let's do this - is usually not one of my signature lines. In life I tend to move like a very slow, hesitant tortoise. Change scares me, and I'd rather look the other way when I encounter it walking along the waterfront - I'm speaking figuratively of course. (Who is as crazy as to walk on the banks? Haven't you seen The River Wild with Kevin Bacon?) 

Anyways, sometimes a ball gets thrown at your face so fast, you either have to catch it or let it smack your nose. I caught it - and now, I do find myself doing this. Actually we are; we, that is Teresa Cypher of Dreamers, lovers, and Star Voyagers, Marcia Kuma of Letter Go and myself. 

We have been composing a brand-new website, following in the footsteps of the soon-to-be ending Six Sentence Sunday, but with one exception. Instead of six sentences our harsh executive admin (aka Hartman) will be allowing eight sentences. With WeWriWa we want to encourage all kinds of writers, new and old, hairy and bald to sign up on Weekend Writing Warriors for the first round of blog hopping, which will start on February 3.

The great thing is to be able to share your writing in a very friendly, laid-back atmosphere, and take a look around the blogs of other participants, writers of all genres and styles. It can be extremely helpful putting a spotlight on a marked-out piece of writing. If you want honest and blunt feedback, you'll get it, if you want to be hugged by a fellow kindred spirit, you'll get that, too. The most important thing is that it's fun!

Clandestine poets, sassy romance writers, SciFi buffs, fantasy enthusiasts, and freestyle think tanks: we dare you to share your 8 with us. There will be a winner chosen from those who sign up, and we'll award that person a special prize. Excited? We are!

Six Sentence Sunday: Black Frame

Good Sunday, Sixers, how are you all doing today? Sadly we've only one more Sunday to go until the official end of Six Sentence Sunday. I haven't been a part of SSS for very long, but I have met some amazing people over the last couple of months. Thank you for all the input and writerly advice. I really hope we all find a new home and purpose for that day. Sunday sans all the writing really is an annoying day, when you think about it. It's the coma before the week's storm. Anyways, today I'd like to share another excerpt from Mr. Peker Rue's Soul Shake, a short story I wrote about a year ago. I'll continue right where I left off the last time. You can find the whole story on Scribd.

"Good news!" the doctor said, looking up from the screen. 
He adjusted the position of his black-framed glasses. Fred noticed his slender hands as they touched the frame, and he envied him for a moment. 
"It's not your heart, Mr. Peker Rue." 
"Please, call me Fred, I insist." 
The doctor ignored the request once again.

Awww. Kitty sleeps in my bookshelf.

Six Sentence Sunday: Weakened Heart

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It's a strange Sunday, this Sunday. Usually I have my excerpt ready and prepared late Saturday, early Sunday, which is super-duper-early. I blame the transatlantic space-time continuum. This weekend I have my mom here in my home office, and because of that my PC has been temporarily moved to the upper floor facilities of the house. I don't know if it is the strange environment or the top floor mountain air but I feel distracted. I never wanted to be one of those "I can't work like this" oddballs, but today I feel like I have Asperger's, so strangely uprooted from myself. Nothing is where it should be, even though it is the same PC, and basically the same molecules sitting in front of it. Anyways, since I am completely without opinions, and everything just seems so incredibly daaaaah, what else I went back to an older excerpt, a short story from the earlier days. You can look up the whole thing on Scribd, it is called Mr. Peker Rue's Soul Shake. Thanks for stopping by! :)


Dr. Cole went back to his desk as Fred buttoned up his shirt - the one his daughter had given him for Christmas, and the only decent garment he had. "Sit down here for a moment, Mr. Peker Rue," the doctor said, pointing towards the chair across from his desk. "Please, doctor, call me Fred." He didn't find himself in a formal mood after his near-death experience earlier today.
Fred took the few exhausting steps towards the desk and slumped into the chair. The doctor's eyes moved steadily across the computer screen. "So, doctor, what do we do about my heart?" It was obvious to Fred, that the pain he had felt all morning and some time during last night must have been caused by his weak collapsing heart; the same flawed heart, that had killed his father and grandfather, both before the age of 70.

Six Sentence Sunday: Old Habits

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Hear ye, hear ye, it's another beautiful Sunday and another opportunity to bring forth the six- may they delight and entertain...:) Last week I posted the intro snippet from Anoethau, my latest fantasy adventure. The title itself derives from Welsh mythology, actually from one of the oldest Arthurian tales there is, and it means difficult or impossible task. This week I'll continue where I left off the last time. Please feel free to comment and criticize my work as you see fit. And have a good one. ☕


It was back in prison when Artie had found out about his grandmother’s passing and the inheritance she had left.  
His lawyer had given him the mysterious letter with a note, saying that the next parole hearing might be worth putting some effort into, unlike the last few times when he’d "blown" it. 
To Artie’s understanding he hadn’t blown anything except being honest; apparently that was something the commission didn't want to hear.
He hung his jacket in the closet, and put his street shoes next to the other pair, which he slipped into with a single sideways move. As he passed through the living room he realized that the heavy smell of pipe smoke clung to the curtains and sofa cushions like a persistent cloud of smog. 

Disgusting habit, he thought and yanked open one of the large windows. 

 

Six Sentence Sunday: Coming Home

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Hello there Sunday Sixers, and Sixer-fans, and welcome to another round of our wonderful Sunday tradition. Admittedly, I have been absent quite a lot, half the time editing, the other half of the time slacking off, but...OK, no BUT, there is no excuse for editing during the holidays, I know. :) I'm looking forward to seeing what you have all been up to lately, and I'll be reading your excerpts momentarily. Oh, and I'd be a very happy bee if you left me a little comment with your thoughts and insight before you go. Have a good one. :)  
Today, there will be no excerpt from The Days Adrift, instead, I'll give you the first six sentences of Anoethau, fruit of my NaNoWriMo participation this year. Let's get to it then, shall we.



Artie turned the key with one hand, the plastic bag with groceries was dangling from the wrist of his other arm. He gave the thick wooden door a little push. Home.  
He loved the smell of the old house, and every time the door closed behind him he felt like he entered a different world, another century, the world his grandparents had lived in. 
The house had been in his family for generations, but much to his surprise his grandmother had left it to him, the ex-convict, the murderer, not his sister, the one who had been the epitome of virtue all her life.
After living in the house for over a year, it still made him grin thinking about it, visualizing his sister's face the moment she found out that she and her annoying idiot husband were left with nothing.

Six Sentence Sunday: Quiet Spectator

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Hi there, Sixers and welcome back! I skipped the whole month of November for NaNoWriMo, so let's dive right back in where we left off last time in my YA adventure The Days Adrift. The three girl fugitives were lost, at the mercy of the sea, until last time, one of them discovered an outpost. This is part #12.


Brita throws the rope towards the plank and wraps it around the brittle pole. Is this real? I sit on deck, stone-still. Underneath the blanket Tams' cold fingers slap my hand as if to say bloody hell, we just got our lives back. Yes we have. I just never thought I'd be a quiet spectator when it happened.

Six Sentence Sunday: Storms In Quiet Places

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Hey lovely Sixers, here we are again, sharing our wonderful Sunday tradition. This week it's part #11 of The Days Adrift - and ->this is what happened last time. We are back in the boat with Brita, Tams and that other girl telling her story. :) Feel free to share your thoughts with me, I do appreciate all of your comments.


There is...something. I can see it now, a shape emerges, approaching the keel from deep within the white wafts. It is lengthy and even and..."Outpost!!! Outpost!! Outpost!!!" Brita jumps up and down on the bow, the bottles roll on the floor in disarray. It is a small landing stage...I can't believe it. 
Tams collapses onto the bench right in front of me, she quivers like a branchlet shaken by storm.

Six Sentence Sunday: Hell-bent On Giving Up

Hey there lovely Sunday Sixers, here we are again! Whew, the weeks fly by quickly, and as I'm mentally preparing for Nanowrimo I feel like I have to do some preliminary work for my Sunday Six excerpts. So this week, it's another double-six snippet from The Days Adrift, part #10. Feel free to comment, critique and share your thoughts! :)
->This is what happened last week.


"Don't throw it all out," I say, a tad insulted, "we may still need some of those things." Like an excavator, Tams grabs the lot of empty bottles and all of our shoes - the good shoes. 
A single sneaker falls off of her arms. "Stop it!" but she seems to be in some sort of frenzy. "We need shoes, you twerp." 
She pauses and stares at me, that scary glare in her eyes, the one telling me that she's hell-bent on giving up.
"Guys!" 
As she leans over the rail, I yank her arm from behind, hard. She stumbles, loses her balance and falls back with a thump. 
"Guys!!!" Brita yells, her voice is cutting capers. She gestures dramatically. Tams lies on top of my legs, amidst scattered shoes and bottles. Brita's incessant screech has become a hoarsely squeal; it pierces right through my ears.
What in the world is she pointing at?

Six Sentence Sunday: Grave Goods

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Huzzah Sunday Sixers! Today it's back to the usual length and format of the Six Sentence Sunday snippets. And this week also, I'll crack open Chapter 4 of The Days Adrift, my story about three girl-fugitives at sea, running from the turmoil of war and the crime they committed. This is what happened ->last time. Let's move on forward to part #9. Feel free to share your thoughts, any thoughts! :)


4.

"You're doing a great job, girl," Tams says, leaning over the keel to rinse one of the empty water bottles. 
"Do you think we will make it?" It does sound incredibly small and stupid, now that I say it out loud. Tams looks at me bleakly, in calm defeat. No, of course not.  
She grabs the bloodstained hammer from under the plastic cover, dumps it in the water and watches as it sinks into the abyss; already cleaning up for the ship burial, aren't we?

Sunshine Blogger Award 2012

Thank you, M.L. Falconer for honoring me with the Sunshine Award.
Ahem, I want to thank everyone who was in this movie with me..oh..wait..wrong ceremony.
I am very glad to have met Mel during the weekly Six Sentence Sunday blog fest. He is a wonderful human being with a myriad of talents and interests, such as being a world-class hiker as well as an audiophile with his own audio book production. Mel is a truly passionate writer who fully commits to his works, which is something I really admire. Aww, I'm happy just to think that I live in times like these. Without the internet, Mel and I would never have met, especially not while hiking. I never hike, much less across the Atlantic!

The Sunshine Blogger Award is a great opportunity to get to know fellow writers and bloggers without actually having to peek through their bedroom windows with a pair of binoculars. So, shoo, people!

 The rules for the award ceremony are fairly simple:

• Thank the person who gave you the award
• Answer 8 questions
• Pass the award on to 8 sunshine-worthy bloggers

I think I'll be going the Lucky Seven route again regarding the tagging. It means that this post serves as an automatic tagging mechanism to anyone who wants to participate. These challenges should be fun and done on a voluntary basis. Peeps, consider yourselves tagged, if you like.

My favorite Christmas/Holiday movie? That's easy, it's Three Wishes For Cinderella! I have watched this fairy-tale once a year at Christmas ever since I was a little girl. I liked it so much that I remember one year, when my dad hogged the TV all day because of Winter Olympics, I ran over to my neighbor, a kindly old lady, who let me watch it in her living room and even made me some hot chocolate. Ahh, the times without VCR and only one TV in every household...
Would I still do the same thing today? Probably!
It's a magical movie, with snowy woods and a Cinderella who doesn't just fall into the prince's arms, but climbs trees, shoots crossbows and has to be chased quite a bit.

My favorite Flower? I really like to look at Calla lilies, I think they are very elegant, almost unreal looking, and I love how the colors of the blossom and the stem blend into one another. I would never go out and buy flowers to put in vase though, and I don't care much for a flowery present either. It's nice to know that right at this moment, somewhere in Africa, the lilies are at full bloom - and bring joy to someone who just passes them by. At least that's what I like to think..

My favorite non-alcoholic beverage? That changes quite a lot. At the moment I like rooibos soft drinks, especially during and after workout sessions. A few months ago, I used to religiously drink apple spritzer. Before that it was coke and fizzy. Juice. And loooong before that...well, mother's milk, what else. ;)

My passion? Apart from all the writerly things that is? Playing video games! I have an Xbox, a PS3, a Wii, and a high-end PC not to miss any good titles coming out for those platforms. I simply love role playing games, and even talking about game mechanics and reviewing games is so much fun. I have been playing RPGs and MMORPGs for over 10 years. I love to stroll through luscious woods, climb up to the top of mountains - and fight and ogre or two on my way down. The ideas I come up with while roaming the Skyrim landscape... it's like being on vacation!

Skyrim nights

Dodo the dog and me, in TERA

My favorite time of year? ..is now, September and October. I love the warm days and cool nights of the Indian Summer. Everything about this time of year is great. I was born in September, so it must be true, tee-hee. But other than that, there are colorful leaves and there is bright wheat, kites flying, gingerbread and hazelnuts. Not to forget about pumpkins and delicious pumpkin soup.

My favorite time of day? Early mornings, the time of day when it's still quiet, but the day's rumblings are about to begin..also for me, it is the most productive time of day.

My favorite physical activity? Yikes! Well, if nothing else I like doing cardio, but only the short cardio workouts. Hubby calls it the hot chick silly dance. Well, what can I say, Turbofire is high intensity interval training, with at least 20 to 30 minutes every day...other than that...yikes!

My favorite vacation? The spontaneous one. Catching a train to god-knows-where. Deciding on the spur of the moment where and in which town to get off. Don't book a room in advance. Don't buy a map. Get your tiny bag with no more than two days worth of clothes, point in a random direction and go, just go.

Six-Sentence-Sunday: Haze of my Betrayal

 

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Hi there, Sunday Sixers, it's good to see you again! After a week of letting my arms and legs dangle from a beach chair, my think strike is officially over! This week I'm back to share another episode of my YA story The Days Adrift. This is part 7, and, as always, your writerly input is very welcome and highly appreciated. :)
 
Last time, overwhelmed by desperation and fear, the protagonist almost lost herself to the water. But someone pulled her back into the boat...



"Are you crazy?!" Brita yells right through the haze of my betrayal. 
She pushes me back and slaps me in the face, 
again and again, a little harder each time.
I want to tell her to stop it, reassure her that I am back now, 
but weary as I am, my mouth won't open to say the words.  

"We don't do that, you hear me?" she sounds like a frail little girl, lecturing another not to swim out too far.
She's afraid.
Her hand clings to my wrist like a limpet; 
she's afraid for my life.

Six-Sentence-Sunday: Nowhere Near

 

http://sixsunday.com

 
Hello and welcome to this week's Six Sunday early bird special. I say early because it's still Saturday and special, because I snuck in seven sentences. And bird because, well, I like birds. Anyhoo, you'll get to read yet another excerpt from The Days Adrift, Part 6. It's getting quite desperate out there on that little boat. Catch up with what happened ->earlier.
Have fun, enjoy and feel free to comment; I appreciate each and every comment, suggestion and friendly little nod! Join in the fun and check out the talented Sixers here. Let's share the love!



3.

Seven days and nights of endless water. The sea rushes, occasionally it brawls and at night it laments. 

Or is it me, lamenting?   

The constant noise claims all my thoughts and turns them 

into only one.  

I can't take this any longer. 

I lean out, way above the railing, and there is nothing out there, nothing, except a shadowy contour, reverberating from the water surface. 

It slowly heads towards me... 

We nearly touch when I feel two strong hands clasping my shoulders, yanking me back into the boat.

Six-Sentence-Sunday 8/12

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Looksie here, it's a new dawn. It's a new day. Sunday! Today I want to introduce you to some of my more recent scribblings. They are called --->Shorts! (..with an exclamation point - because they are just outrageously short short stories) and you'll find them on my blog. The point of these Shorts! is to write a story that begins as close to the end as possible - this one needed 17 sentences in total, and you can look up how it ends  --->here. 
These are the first six sentences of The Long Run.
Looking forward to reading your comments and criticisms! :)

The Long Run

He paused and looked at her, "What else is there to say?"

What needed to be said had been said, and it was he who had done most of the talking. Her body and mouth remained still, except for the one silent nod she gave him.

He didn’t need to wait for her response;

she didn’t put up a fight. 

She looked away, far across the lot of picket fences, and her gaze pierced right through the suburban Arcadia, to that other place her mind went sometimes. 

There was a time when their life had been nimble, when smiles were just smiles, not crooked strains, when every small occurrence seemed like a riddle for them to understand in their later years – a time when they would be wise and knowledgeable regarding all things life.

Six-Sentence-Sunday

*Random choice of six sentences from my Work-In-Progress*

She came to realize that Nian and his friends truly were the voiceless of this world, dispossessed and completely stripped of their rights 

as human beings. 

As she thought about the inequity of the very system she was about to become a part of, her strides turned into furious stomps. 

They reached the little grove at noon and found a shady and cool site amidst the trees where Kaley leaned against a mighty stem to rest for a while. 

Her feet were sore, and she felt the bark clinging to her from behind, which provided some much needed relief to her back. 

Nian sat down across from her, huddling up against a bulky stub of a tree. 

He didn't look tired at all, he was just as hungry as he always was, and once again Kaley marvelled at his resiliance against physical strain.