Here’s another quick Trifextra entry for the bonus challenge this week. We were given a photo and told to write 33 words about it. Our photo is here:
![Photo credit: [ changó ] / Foter / CC BY-NC-ND](https://swordsoftheancients.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/08/another-head-hangs-lowly-2_l.jpg)
Photo credit: [ changó ] / Foter / CC BY-NC-ND
“How much longer do we have to wait, Umbra?”
“Only a little bit, Skugga. Soon, the sun will set, and when it does, we’ll be free.”
“All of us?”
“Yes, all of us.”
This week’s Trifecta Writing Challenge word was “band.” This is “Travelers.”
I wrapped my cloak tightly around me as the breeze threatened the wanderer’s attempts to maintain a fire. He laughed, shifting into position to block the wind as he added more kindling.
“You know,” he said, “you’re not doing too well at this whole adventuring thing.”
“What makes you say that?” I asked, indignant. “After all, you were the one who was walking through the desert at mid-day with nothing in your waterskin.”
“Oh, sure, you’ve got supplies. I saw them. But have you got a weapon?”
I stared blankly at the man. The fire crackled as he stoked it.
“Of course I’ve got a weapon. I’m not about to go away from the city without something to defend myself.”
“Some raggedy stick?”
I clutched my staff. “They’re the weapon of my order. We train with them from the time we’re able to walk. If I wanted to, I could kill you seven different ways with it before you could shout for help.” I found myself briefly wishing that I’d never stopped to help him.
“My blade could slice it in two before you noticed, boy. Case in point.” He glanced at my neck, and I followed his eyes down. A sword extended from his hand to my throat, the blade a hair’s breadth away. “But I think,” he went on, his eyes flicking back up to my shoulder, “that it would be for our mutual benefit to band together. At least until we cross the Sand Sea.”
“…”
“Don’t be scared of me, boy. It’s just that there are things out there in the dark, and it doesn’t seem that you can see them. Otherwise you’d have noticed…HIM!”
I felt the blood dripping down my arm as the wanderer’s sword flew from my neck and pierced something behind me.
“A…agreed…” I looked down at the bleeding creature.
“You and me, kid. We’ll do okay.”
“I hope so.”
“You’ve got supplies. I can see these things. It’ll be fine.”
The wanderer stoked the fire.
Okay. I know that it’s been a busy summer. There have been a lot of things that I’ve been meaning to get done that haven’t been happening, at least just yet. Reviews I’ve wanted to write, books I’ve wanted to read, etc. I’ve been stretching myself a bit thin, and I’m starting to feel it. Still, if college taught me anything, it’s that I function very well when that last-minute-panic-feeling hits. I’ve decided that I need to do a bit of reorganizing in my life.
Right now, it’s just turned into August (Happy Birthday, Colorado!). That means that the Renaissance Festival is coming to an end, and my girlfriend will have a little bit of time for a social life before the school year starts up again (she wants to be a teacher, and I’m a little jealous of the fact that she will continue to have summer breaks for the rest of her career, not going to lie). I’m personally hoping she gets to write a little bit, but we’ve got a joint project coming up that’s going to take a lot of time. See, we’re both making our own costumes for our cosplays for NDK this year, and I’ve got a lot to learn. I’m pretty new to the sewing machine, and I’m very serious about making my costume myself, though I’m also very willing to accept any and all help. We have some absolutely amazing friends who are already doing more than they should to help with this. Now I’m not saying what the cosplay is, not just yet. I know many of my readers already know, but those of you who don’t get to be surprised. So, shhhh. It involves a haircut. That’s the only hint you get.
Cosplay stuff aside, I still have a lot of things to get done. There’s some job opportunities that I’m likely to be applying for, as having a single full-time job would be a lot easier to manage than the two part-time things I’m doing now. A set schedule would also allow me to better handle a daily writing schedule, particularly useful since November is coming. I’m still working on a purge of my book collection. I was able to unload some of my duplicate titles onto V, which was a great help to me. Now I just need one more bookshelf, and I might be able to have space for everything that’s in my apartment at the moment. Just one more. Then I can get more books, and the cycle can begin again. Book addiction, folks. It’s a serious issue.
Also up this week is the accomplishment of a life goal. Tomorrow night, I’ll be in Denver to see my all-time favorite band live for the first time. Rush is coming to town, and I am not about to miss it. I’m going to listen to Moving Pictures again this morning, and probably work my way through as much of the discography as I can before I fall asleep tonight. In the meantime, I’ve got to go to work. The patrons at the library need me.
“Life”
With a gentle whisper
It begins.
With a building roar
It continues.
With a deafening silence
It stops.
I was driving home from work the other day, and I saw a sign taped to a streetlight. It read “Huge Book Sale” and had an arrow pointing around the corner. Several thoughts ran through my head, and it went a little like this.
“But I don’t NEED any huge books.”
“Hehehehehehe.”
“That joke shouldn’t have made me giggle.”
“I need more bookshelves.”
“Oh god, it’s a trap. A trap with the perfect bait.”
“I have to go.”
“I can’t go, I have no more money to spend on books.”
“I have empty cardboard boxes in my car, though…”
“No, seriously, it’s probably a trap. They know your commute.”
“Oh, shit, they know my commute. I better just go home.”
“I’m going home.”
Needless to say, I made it home safely, and wasn’t lured into a giant cardboard box with a trail of leather-bound classics leading up to it. Though that might work… Entertainingly enough, I was on my way to work a couple of days later, via a different route, when I saw a matching sign.
“Oh, shit. They really DO know my commute…”
Another Trifecta Writing Challenge entry for you today. Here’s “The Crack.”
“I think I may be going mad,” Kerry muttered as he looked at his surroundings. The sun beat down upon the fields, black grass shimmering in the light. It stretched on into hills and valleys without a single variation in shade. Reality was breaking around him, and the source, the crack was nearby, but that was the only thing that was certain anymore. It was coming for him. He had seen things since his first encounter with the rift, since the day he’d met Alicia, though even now he couldn’t say if that had been ten years or ten days ago. This field before him might only be an illusion. Regardless, the crack was coming closer. There was only one way for him to end it.
“But if I am, I can think of worse ways for it to go.” He saw her then, or her shape, white flitting across the black, and he drew a dagger from his belt. She moved toward him, never touching the grass, never noticing the narrow band of chaos that seemed to be carved across the landscape by her passage. Finally reaching him, she stopped.
“Hello, Kerry.” Her voice a jumble of voices clamoring at once.
“Hello, Alicia.”
“I’ve been waiting for you.”
Kerry’s face was grim. “I’ve been looking for you. I hoped I’d find you sooner.”
Alicia’s shape twitched as if it had just noticed the blade he held. “Is that what I think it is?” the multitude asked.
“Let’s find out.”
He stepped behind her, arms around her in a final embrace as he guided her hands upward and the knife point found her neck.
The crack that had trailed behind her yawned wide. Kerry clutched Alicia’s limp body to him and let the chaos swallow them both. All that remained was black.
Words cannot express my gratitude for John Scalzi’s Convention Harassment Policy. Read it. Embrace it. Co-sign it. Stop harassment.
I’ve been asked if I would add a thread for writers/editors/artists/fans/human beings to co-sign my recently-announced convention harassment policy. Well, sure. Here it is. If you’re a writer/editor/artist/fan/human being who wants to adopt my convention harassment policy for your own, put a comment in the thread here. Just a simple “co-sign” will suffice, if that’s all you want to say.
This weekend’s Trifextra Challenge was a thirty-three word free-write from the lovely folks over at Trifecta. My entry is called Recollection.
* * * * * * * * * * *
“Recollection”
There is nothing quite as strong as a memory struggling against the edge of oblivion. I learned that the hard way, years ago. No matter how hard I try, I still can’t forget.
It’s Friday. Around here, that means a couple of things, though first and foremost in my mind is payday. The other is an afternoon off. That means that I’m going to be free to do a couple of things I’ve been meaning to get around to. That’s right. It’s an anti-procrastination day. Anything could happen.
However, assuming the weather continues to cooperate, I’ll be heading down to my apartment complex’s swimming pool with a book or two with me. I find that it’s a good balance of working out the body and the mind. Read a chapter, swim a few laps. Repeat. Meditate on the chapter I just read while in the water. Maybe compose a bit more in one of a half dozen works in progress, or start drafting a chapter for something new. It’s self-improvement in the best possible way. I’ll have a notebook with me, of course. I always do. I feel off-balance without a notebook and pen or pencil in my pocket. Except in the pool. And the shower. Even then, writing utensils will remain close at hand. Anyway, I’m off. Enjoy your Friday, everyone.
Sometimes a conversation leads to an unexpected phrase. In this particular case, something came up that I absolutely loved. I was told that it should be my catchphrase. Never thought I’d have one, but here it is. “Hello, sweet chaos.”
The Swords of the Ancients 