Getting tired of this yet? Today features the third round of the semi-finals. Remember, the winners will be announced at noon on Sunday and the next round will kick off next Tuesday (right after the ORIGINS blogfest). Read the submission from each WRiTER carefully and leave your vote for the sample that resonates with you the most. Don’t forget to offer some opinions if you have time. Anyone reading this can vote, so blog / tweet / facebook / text / smoke signal everyone you know and get them to participate as well. Good luck to both WRiTER’s!
Stepping into the ring is our round three winner...TIMOTHY NINE
Creatures of habit are easier to catch and beautiful Edie Grace was as predictable as a James Bond love affair. For three weeks, he studied her, peering into her life… her soul. He loved her youthful movements, so graceful. She now belonged to him.
Through the front window, he watched Edie jumped onto her sofa and sit cross-legged in front of the television. Avid fan of Wheel of Fortune, her fisted hands move up and down in front of her chest as the wheel went round. As the needle passed every number, she mouthed, one thousand, one thousand and finally called out a letter in turn.
G as in girl.
He smiled. Yes, and what about B as in beautiful or D as in dead? Oh, the hours he stood watching were about to end. Excitements filled his stomach and his heart beat rapidly. He longed to be inside — with her. No, he must be patient; he knew the perfect time.
And his/her able opponent is none other than....CASEY BROOKS
When a princess misbehaves, most kings and queens send them to their chambers. Not mine. No, my parents send me to the dungeons. And I don’t get to just sit there and “think about what I’ve done.” I have to clean. It probably says something about my temperament that we have the cleanest dungeons in all of Farfel. Even now, as I sat on my royal *ahem* and polished the bars outside the second-largest cell for VIPs only (Very Important Prisoners), I was hard pressed to find even one speck of dust. Of course, that might be because I’ve been on dungeon duty every day this week. (Let me just say – cleaning out chamber pots? Not. Fun.)
On Sunday, I was punished for putting a snake in Prince Alec’s salad. I know, I know. Not that original, but he yelled louder than a banshee from the Mountains of Mystery.
On Monday, I ever-so-innocently suggested that the prince resembled a blue pincushion – what with his puffy sleeves and all – and my parents sent me down here again. (Though, I noticed they didn’t disagree with my assessment of his outfit).
Tuesday morning, I pushed the prince into the fountain during our supposed-to-be-romantic walk. Of course my parents didn’t believe me when I said I was protecting the prince from a very deadly looking wasp.
Really, I was surprised they still wanted to go forward with the whole marriage thing. I mean, I had hoped that if I made my thoughts on the matter clear, then they would let me out of it. But, no.
Maybe the fountain thing was too subtle.
“Maybe the prince should just go back to where he belongs,” I muttered as I scrubbed at the prison bars. After all, my parents couldn’t force me to marry Prince Alec in one week.
“That’s easy to arrange, you know,” a lilting female voice answered me. I nearly jumped out of my corset.
Peering through the bars, I saw two baby blue eyes staring back at me. They reminded me of the prince’s unfortunately puffy coat. I hate to admit it, but I judged her a little bit because of that.
“I thought this cell was empty,” I said stupidly. I was too surprised to come up with something more witty.
“New arrival. Just got here today.” She seemed unconcerned by the fact that she was a prisoner in the king’s dungeons. Calmly and primly, she sat by the cell bars, looking at me with an expression that could only be described as boredom.
She was also the most beautiful woman I had ever seen.
I judged her for that too. It wasn’t fair that she could have lustrous golden hair that cascaded down her back in waves (even while as a prisoner in a dungeon!) while my lady maids forced me to sit for an hour each day simply to have a semblance of curl.
But if she could help me … who was I to judge?
Don’t forget the WRiTE CLUB motto, it’s not about the last man/woman standing, it’s about who knocks the audience out!