By Michael Seese
After a brief hiatus, agent Janet Reid is offering up another 100-word contest. As she explained on her blog:
"I had the pleasure of seeing Stephen King at a recent reading. I was accompanied on this field trip by my boon companions in crime (and devoted King fans) Joanna Volpe, Dan Krokos and Brooks Sherman. At the close of the reading we got copies of his new novel Dr. Sleep. Of course, I am not going to read it!! TOO SCARY!!! So, what better to do with it than offer it as the prize for writing contest! That it happens to be a signed copy all the better."
The words:
Beautiful
Await
Shining
Love
Craft
So here is my entry, "Beautiful Forever."
"Keep me beautiful forever."
Jessica’s words, her plea, haunted Wayne. His heart ached when he thought of watching the woman he adored fading, her shining star waning, as she awaited the curtain to fall on Act III. If he could craft a different ending to the final script we all must read...
Wayne smiled. "How do you feel?"
"Who are you?" Jessica asked, the sedative wearing off.
"Someone who loves you."
"Where am I? What are you doing?"
"Your ad. The billboard. 'Keep me beautiful forever.' Soon, you will be," Wayne said as the formaldehyde began flowing into her vein.
Feel free to share your thoughts of "Beautiful Forever."
Showing posts with label Dan Krokos. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Dan Krokos. Show all posts
Saturday, October 26, 2013
Sunday, August 18, 2013
100 Degrees Of Separation
By Michael Seese
Janet is at it again. I think this is the fourth or fifth week in a row for the 100-word contests. In her blog, Janet related a funny six (or three) degrees of separation involving authors Christi Corbett, Dan Krokos, and Jeff Somers. This time, use the words:
3
degree
chum
bucket
pants
Here is my entry.
3 degrees are all that separated me from death. Normal body temperature is 37°C, give or take a half. Hypothermia starts at 35. Uncontrollable shivering. Blue fingers, lips. Confusion. Then, the big sleep. What a bucket of shite this night was. One minute, I’m in the pub with me chums, chatting up a lovely, trying to charm her pants off. The next, I’m swimming the Thames, having cheesed off her mister. I’d half a mind to go back and mash him. Unfortunately, that wasn’t in the cards.
There’s the pisser. I was on the wrong side of those 3 degrees.
Feel free to share your thoughts of "3 degrees."
Is "3 degrees" really hot? Click to tweet.
Janet is at it again. I think this is the fourth or fifth week in a row for the 100-word contests. In her blog, Janet related a funny six (or three) degrees of separation involving authors Christi Corbett, Dan Krokos, and Jeff Somers. This time, use the words:
3
degree
chum
bucket
pants
Here is my entry.
3 degrees are all that separated me from death. Normal body temperature is 37°C, give or take a half. Hypothermia starts at 35. Uncontrollable shivering. Blue fingers, lips. Confusion. Then, the big sleep. What a bucket of shite this night was. One minute, I’m in the pub with me chums, chatting up a lovely, trying to charm her pants off. The next, I’m swimming the Thames, having cheesed off her mister. I’d half a mind to go back and mash him. Unfortunately, that wasn’t in the cards.
There’s the pisser. I was on the wrong side of those 3 degrees.
Feel free to share your thoughts of "3 degrees."
Is "3 degrees" really hot? Click to tweet.
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