Program Note - On Wednesdays bout I forgot to mention the genre of each submission until mid-day when I corrected it, which may have lead to some confusion about one of the entries. If you haven't already, please take a second look at those HERE and decide if you would like to change your vote. Thank you.
WRiTE CLUB is a writing community sensation sponsored by the DFWWriters Conference that is loosely based on the popular movie Fight Club. There are numerous versions of this concept floating around the internet, but nothing like we do it here. This unique approach embodies simple, good-natured competition, with lots and lots of fun sprinkled on top.
We started off with 171 entries, from which 40 were selected, and now only six remain. Four will get the opportunity to move forward into the next week. The voting for these quarter-final bouts will remain open until noon on Monday, July 13th at 6PM CST. This is the final bout. Your task remains simple…read the submission below from each WRiTER carefully and leave your vote for the sample that resonates with you the most. Please offer a mini-critique, if you have time. After you vote, please blog/tweet/facebook/text/smoke signal everyone you know and get them to take part in the fun.
Here’s something else to keep in mind for this round...every vote counts. That’s because the contestant who doesn't win their bout…but garners the most votes amongst all of the other losers…will become a wildcard winner and still advance to the semi-finals.
The winners will be posted after 6 PM on the WRiTE CLUB Scoreboard on July 13th and then the semi-finals will kick off the very next day on Tuesday July 14th. Winners of these quarter finals will need to have their next all new 500 word submission ready to go. Now is not the time to fall asleep at the wheel. :)
Good luck to all of the WRiTER’s!
In the near corner, please welcome back to the ring with a Contemporary YA piece at 499 words -- Commado Grace.
“Where’d you get the cancer stick?”
“Doesn’t matter.”Molly perches on the edge of the moss-covered well, a cigarette between her fingers. The sacred quiet of the ruined cottage, crumbling beneath ancient oaks, makes the distance between us worse. Her thumb fumbles over the lighter’s wheel. “Don’t you want to try things, Grace?”
“Not lung cancer.”
The flame dies as quickly as it sparked. “One smoke won’t kill me.”
“Don’t be stupid, Molly. How do you think Trevor will like kissing an ashtray? Because if you fall in that well, it will be my solemn duty as your best friend to get him to rescue you, and I know for a fact he hates smoking. Athletes have a thing for healthy lungs.” I grin, even though the whole situation’s far from funny. I need Molly’s smile back.
She shakes her head and scans the tops of the trees. “Like his lips will ever touch mine.”
An ugly brown mutt hurtles from the woods and catapults onto my bench. I catch his collar before he slobbers my face. Molly flips her cigarette and lighter into the well. Trevor stands inside the arched gateway, swinging a leash.
“Stupid dog never listens. Chewbacca, come!”
He might have mistaken a deranged Ewok for a Wookiee, but for the first time, I’m glad Trevor’s here. “Molly and I were just having a little debate. She seems to think a guy who rescued a girl from a well wouldn’t appreciate a kiss for his heroics.”
“Grace! That’s not—”
Trevor glances from me to Molly. “Are there any strings attached to this kiss?”’
“My opinion of our hero depends entirely upon how sincerely he kisses back.”I don’t care that I’m putting them both on the spot. Something has to crack Molly’s gloom. If Trevor has the balls to do it, he’d better make it good.
“Catch!” Chewbacca’s leash lands at my feet.
Trevor takes a deep breath and approaches Molly. His hands resting on her slender hips, he draws her close and whispers in her ear. Her back arches as their lips meet. They’re so into this kiss, he’s got to be tasting her stomach acid. It’s weird and gross—worse than my brother making out with his girlfriend. I can’t watch.
My toes look like dirty vienna sausages peeping out of the plaster cast. The nail polish is chipping. Molly can touch it up later. She’ll need some time to gush, anyway. I guess kissing Trevor Langston is better than puffing a cancer stick.
Trevor’s hand brushes mine as he grips Chewbacca’s collar. He glances at Molly, sitting on the well’s edge with a faint smile on her angelic, blushing face.
“She needs you, Grace. Be good to her.” As he bends to fasten the leash, our eyes meet. “And don’t ever think I won’t call your bluff.”
Chewbacca’s fat tongue slaps my eye. Trevor tugs the leash, his mouth set in a deep frown. “Come, boy. I don’t think Grace kisses back.”
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And in the far corner, making their own return to the ring in the Contemporary genre with 500 words -- Eleanor McInnes.
While I was walking through the grocery store, I was sure everyone I passed could tell what was happening today. While my rational mind knew there was no way this was possible, the completely irrational center of my brain said that the bullet holes bleeding fifteen years of devotion to a man who would leave me for a bitch half his age told them everything they needed to know. The flashing neon sign over my head that said, “The divorce is final today!” would draw more attention than the 99 cent eggs or the half price on dog food.
Speaking of dog food, I found myself looking at the dog food with new interest. Rick berated me for buying too much for “that damn mutt.” Even though we’ve been apart for months, I had still been subjecting Hotsy to the same cheap food Rick had insisted I buy.
Well, no more! Today was a new day. I found the expensive cans that didn’t say ‘beef,’ but instead said ‘cuts of tenderloin.’ Oh, yes, this was a very new day, for Hotsy and for me.
Next I got a jar of herring. I had developed a love of herring in college. Ramen noodles and herring got me through four years that I used to think was hell. Now I knew where hell was, but I wasn’t a resident anymore. I think I relocated just over the border.
Once I had a Rick-free basket loaded to bursting with such previously-forbidden treasures as scented laundry detergent and raspberry chocolate truffle coffee, I checked out. I was only slightly less aware of the neon sign still hanging above my head, but went through the self-check line to avoid a clerk noticing. Ok, maybe the sign wasn’t real, but the tear-stains were.
I paid for my treasures, got them out to the parking lot, and loaded them without drawing attention. I sat in my car for a few minutes just watching the world go on with its day without me. The rest of the world was normal, but I was just one step out of time with them. Like a freed prisoner who is trying to figure out how to fit back into a society, I was at the same time alien and normal.
That night Hotsy and I enjoyed a Rick-free meal of all the things he would have hated.
“I hope Miss Boobs likes bland, but we are never eating bland again,” I said to Hotsy as he sat beside my chair. He wagged his tail in support.
“Oh, Hotsy, I’m so glad I have you,” I reached down and rubbed his head.
Hotsy began to convulse and hack before he threw up his gourmet meal on my shoe.
At first I was too stunned to move, but then I laughed and threw away the ugly shoes Rick had bought. After I cleaned up the floor, I held Hotsy and sat with my back to the dishwasher.
“Thanks. I had forgotten about those.”
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