Welcome to Week 23 of the Friday Fiction Writing Challenge! Here’s a complete list of all the posts so far. Feel free to join in.
This week’s random word is: Communication
I’m still battling the flu this week, but I’m far less sausage-brained than last week. Woohoo! I had a few ideas for the prompt: Taking out a communication tower. Her non-verbal communication said more than she ever could. One-on-one communication wasn’t his strong suit.
I ended up mixing in some non-verbal stuff with some military comms—I loved using throat mics. And, in trying to veer away from the comfort of meet-cutes, I thought it would be fun to see how these characters would be after they’d broken up, and then saw each other again.
Here’s my response to the prompt:
I did this, thought Ben. He’d pushed Jenny away, leaving her unprotected, all because he couldn’t let himself trust her. She’d been missing for five hours. More than enough time for AJ’s men to have killed her and disposed of the body. He shoved the image from his mind. Until he saw her body, there was still hope.
He watched the cameras pan slightly. It was go-time. They couldn’t risk communication over the walkies, so Ben double-clicked his throat mic. The clicks signaling the rest of the team that the compound’s perimeter cameras were under Deniable Unit (DU) control.
Ben slipped through the gap in the fencing, leaving the rest of the team to cover him as he made for the squat building. He didn’t need DU intel to tell him that was where AJ was holding her—Ben had worked undercover in AJ’s organization long enough to know with sickening certainty.
A series of clicks sounded in his earpiece. He ducked behind a bush just as a guard rounded the building. Another click indicated Ben was clear.
Ben sprinted to the building and checked each window for Jenny. He’d almost given up hope when a loud yelp broke the silence.
“Bitch bit me!” A man yelled, followed by a door slamming.
Ben headed toward the noise and peered through the window.
Relief flooded him. She was alive. And alone. He forced the window and jumped in.
Jenny’s eyes locked on his, softening for a second before narrowing.
I like this couple and hope to revisit them in a future Deniable Unit story. Thanks for reading, and have a fantastic weekend!
Welcome to day five of Things in Scots!—a fun collaboration with my husband, Jez (Mind an gie Jez’s post a keek.)
It occurred to me that I hadn’t shared what the days of the week are in Scots. With Scots being closely related to English—just like Norwegian is closely related to Danish—some of the days are the same.
Okay, so this is a quick review of Return to Christmas by one of my favorite authors, Anne Stuart.
Let me start off by saying this is a time-travel story. I don’t tend to read time-travel books–apart from the ones by my wonderful clients. If I’m in the mood for a historical setting, I pick up a historical romance. But this book twisted things a bit by setting it in 1947–it’s not a historical setting I read, but man I loved it because of the time-travel.
Last month I said I was going to do some posts in Scots. Admittedly, I did…but then I caught the flu, and most of my plans went out the window. So, with Jez’s (husband man) Animals in Scots series at an end and the fact that I missed out, we decided to join forces and collaborate on a month-long series: Things in Scots. Yep, we were super imaginative yesterday.
For my first post, I’m going to share a word that’s been in my head the whole time I’ve been flu-y: Coorie.
Coorie (or coorie in—depending on where you live) means to snuggle, wrap up. It’s a word I’ve heard all my life, always when I’ve had the cold or the flu.
Whanivver Ah wiz smorin wi’ the caul, ma maw wid aye say, “Guan coorie doon on the sofa.”
Thenks fur stoapin by an hae a wunnerfu day. (Mind an gie Jez’s post a keek.)
In Inglis: Whenever I had a horrible cold, my mum would always say, “Get yourself wrapped up on the sofa.” (What she specifically meant when she said coorie was: grab the duvet off the bed and snuggle under it on the sofa.)
Thanks for stopping by, and have a wonderful day. (Remember to check out Jez’s post.)
Welcome to Week 22 of the Friday Fiction Writing Challenge! Here’s a complete list of all the posts so far. Feel free to join in.
This week’s random word is: Ladder
I wasn’t going to post to the challenge this week as I’ve been ill—yip, the flu got me. For the better part of this week, my brain has resembled sausage. And just the thought of trying to string a coherent sentence together hurts.
But, for some reason here I am. I’m not entirely sure what has spurred me on but mental sludge will not deter me. For today, at least.
This week, I decided to play around with another “meet cute” (the meet cute: how the hero/heroine meets their romantic interest in a story).
Here’s my response to the prompt:
The pair of tactical boots Jack had chased up six flights of stairs disappeared through the rooftop door.
Jack’s breath sawed hard as he took the stairs two at a time to catch up with the boots’ owner. He really needed to up his cardio.
At the door, he readied his Sig and slipped out into the darkness. He clung to the shadows, surveying the rooftop as he went. There was no sign of the runner. Not that he’d be able to spot them with them being dressed in tactical black.
Did that shadow just move?
He stilled, waiting to see if his mind was messing with him again. There. Movement.
The runner broke cover and sped across the gravel top, no longer caring about stealth, and leapt to the next building.
Jack clenched his jaw and ran toward the edge of the building. Somewhere between his feet leaving the ground and him falling through the air, he realized he’d made a huge fucking mistake.
Milliseconds stretched out for what felt like an eternity. Until his chest slammed into the ledge around the roof. Jake clawed at the inner edge of the ledge until he gained purchase.
The runner stopped and turned. Now that they weren’t running, Jack could see that he’d been chasing a woman.
The woman approached and stuck out her hand for him.
Jack stared at her hand, unsure if he could trust her.
“Unless you’ve got a ladder handy, I’m your only help bud.”
Thanks for reading and have an amazing weekend!
HOW IT WORKS
Don’t think too hard on the word; just write about it for a maximum of twenty-five minutes or 250 words.
Once you complete your sprint, give it some basic editing.
Be courageous and post your results to your blog.
Complete the challenge on your blog before 1700 UTC of the following Friday.
Link to the original prompt post and make sure to use the tag Genre Scribes so that we can see all the posts together in WP Reader.
Your text must be fiction (preferably one you publish in (or plan to).
No real-life stories.
The text can be dialogue, an interior monologue, a scene, flash fiction, anything… so long as it’s fiction.
I finally got around to creating something with the new-to-me sewing machine. Woohoo! It’s not perfect, but it’s good enough to protect JezB’s wee camera, Junior, while we’re out and about. Next, world domination by sewing. Bwah ha ha!