Wednesday, October 10, 2012

Word Count Wednesday & Flash Fiction Challenge Continues

Well, this week I got in 2889 words and I am very proud of that!  Woohoo!  It was so funny because writing my little flash fiction last week did motivate me to keep going and I pounded out five pages on my WIP.  So YAY!

How did you do?

Today I thought we'd continue with the flash fiction challenge.  Since I've had a request for the next 400 words on my entry from last week, I think I'll do that.  You are free to continue yours from last week or do a completely new 400 word composition.  The only requirement is that it must contain the words, "the fog swirled around me and my blood ran cold."

Can't wait to see yours!  We had some great ones last week.  I'll post mine later today.


Melanie Goldmund said...

Well, I added another 1500 words or more to my new story, but now I see I'm going to have to do some heavy editing before I can continue with the next part. Oh, and another 400 words (at least) for the flash fiction! Wow, I did a lot!

Writing the flash fiction last week was fun. I'll have to see what I can come up with for this week. Fog, huh? We do get a lot of fog here in northern Germany, but it's not usually my blood that runs cold. :D

Julie Coulter Bellon said...

Melanie, that is awesome! And when you said that about the fog, it totally got my imagination going as to why you wouldn't be cold in the fog. LOL

Melanie Goldmund said...

I only meant to say that it was usually my cold and runny nose that I was most aware of in the fog, not my blood. :-)

Still thinking about this challenge ...

Julie Coulter Bellon said...

Melanie, I'm glad you clarified! My imagination was running away with me. I'm going to post my 400 words today. I hope you do, too, then we can award the prizes to ourselves! Yay! :)

Julie Coulter Bellon said...

Here's my continuation from last week.

Ma’am, ma’am,” the stranger said as he stood over me. “I need help.”

He needs help? Wasn’t he about to attack me? “Who are you and what were you doing in my house?”

The man looked behind him then stepped closer. I lowered my heel to the area where I thought it would hurt him the most.

“I accidentally fell through your skylight and knocked myself out. When I came to, I made it to your front door, but before I could unlock it I tripped over something in the dark.” I cringed inwardly, remembering how I’d told myself to work on decluttering my front hall.

“Why were you on my roof?”

The man rubbed the back of his head gingerly. “I can’t remember.” He swayed as if he were about to faint. “Do you mind if I sit down?” He sat without me saying anything. The fog swirled around him as the moon came out and my blood ran cold when I finally saw his face. It was easy to see he was in pain.

“You need to go to the hospital. Your head is still bleeding.” One side of his head was matted and dark.

He mumbled something unintelligible. Was he playacting to draw me closer? I leaned over to put my shoe back on, chiding myself for letting my imagination run away from me. I realized I’d left my phone on the seat beside me when I’d come home and I quickly pulled it to me and dialed 911. “I need help,” I told the operator. “A man has been hurt in my home. He needs an ambulance.” I listened to her instructions, keeping my eye on the stranger the entire time. He raised his head to look at me, confusion on his face.

“Where am I?” He slowly turned to look at his surroundings. “Who are you?”

“My name is Hannah,” I told him as I held the phone close. “You broke into my house and hurt yourself. The police are on their way.”

“Why would I break into your house?” He stood and I realized how he towered over me. He stepped closer to me and put his hand on the door. I slammed it shut before he could blink and felt a moment’s pleasure at his yelp of pain. Starting the car, I put it into reverse, but before I could get out of the driveway, I heard him scream. “They’re here. They’re here to kill us. Don’t leave me alone.”

I twisted in my seat to see what he was talking about and my heart stuttered at what I saw. And then I screamed with him.

Melanie Goldmund said...

Crikey, Julie, did he jump onto her roof from a flying saucer, or what? Or have I watched too many episodes of The X-Files back in the day? Whatever, you can't just leave us there! More, more!

Inspiration finally struck me, while I was reading a steampunk novel, no less, which is why I came up with this little story:

The fog swirled around me and my blood ran cold. Nobody should have been in the cemetery at this time of night – not even me. But when your back garden is right next to it, and your husband has the keys to the gates because he’s the caretaker , and there’s a hole in the fence that separates your property from the graves – well, it wouldn’t be the first time I had used it as a shortcut.

Now I heard a rhythmic shuffling sound, almost like footsteps in leaves, but without the corresponding rustling sound of dead foliage. My imagination was starting to conjure up visions of something supernatural out there in the dark fog. Had something really escaped its grave?

I had a little flashlight on a keychain, just enough to light my way, but not (I hoped) enough to alarm any passers-by. Could the thing see my little glow? Would it come in my direction? I switched it off, my heart pounding, and listened. The shuffles stopped, but a breeze stirred the fog, and I saw a man-sized shape ahead.

But no man I’d ever seen walked like that, or bent down in that stiff way. More intriuged than scared now, I inched closer, found a convenient bush to hide behind, and peered around it. It was! It was one of the cogmen, the clockwork robots that had been so in vogue when my parents were young. You still saw them from time to time, usually accompanying older ladies out on their errands, carrying their shopping, holding the leashes of their dogs, shambling along behind them like silent servants.

I peered closer. Wasn’t that Mrs Hahn’s cogman? What was he doing in the graveyard? In fact, what was he doing outside on his own in the first place? Mrs Hahn had died and been buried a week ago, and surely the cogman would have been disposed of along with the rest of her household?

The cogman straightened up, then shuffled away. I watched it disappear into the fog, then came out from behind the bush and turned on my flashlight again. Had the cogman been doing what people usually did in cemeteries? I walked quietly over to where it had bent over, and shone my light onto the new grave. And yes, at the foot of the mound, there was a rough bouquet of flowers.