We continue with the first of eighteen bouts that make up the initial round of the WRiTE CLUB play-offs. They will all span the next two weeks, posted on Mon-Wed-Fri, on this and two other blogs. Here are the links to the blogs where the other bouts can be found.
DL Hammons @ Cruising Altitude 2.0
Julie Dao @ Silver Lining
Your task is simple…read the submission from each WRiTER below carefully and leave your vote for the sample that resonates with you the most. If you haven’t already done so in the preliminary rounds, offer some critique if you have time. Anyone reading this can vote (after signing up on this Linky List) so blog/tweet/facebook/text/smoke signal everyone you know and get them to take part in the fun. You will have until noon on Sunday (Oct. 28th) to vote on the first nine bouts, then noon Sunday (Nov. 4th) for the second nine. Vote on as many bouts as you can get around to. Whether that is one bout, or all eighteen, how much you participate is up to you.
The eighteen winners will be posted on the afternoon of Nov. 4th and the next round will kick off the following Monday with edited versions of the winning writing samples.
Good luck to both WRiTER’s!
Mama and Daddy don’t know this about me, but every night since I was sixteen I’ve been sneaking out of the house. At first, I did it just to get away from them. They’d keep me locked up in a cage if they could. But that night, the night of my eighteenth birthday, I did have a particular destination in mind. A small bar named Earl’s.
It was already late, probably around nine thirty or so, because I remember the stars in the sky were bright and twinkling. I took my sweet time as I walked as if I was walking down a sidewalk made of gold. I could feel the earth through my worn sandals. I even got some dirt in them, but I didn’t give a damn. Mama and Daddy wouldn’t even notice that I was gone for two whole hours, and that was enough cause to enjoy my night out. No one could tell me anything when I was out on my own. I was my own woman. I was Shelby Porter, 5’5; blue eyed with hair the color of whiskey.
Being outdoors, under the sky, was the only time I got to be alone. The only time I had with my thoughts, thoughts Mama and Daddy would’ve called vulgar. At home, all I ever talked about with them was boring school stuff or boring bible study stuff.
That’s why I liked Earl’s Bar. I got hit on a lot by men. Not boys like at school, real, tall, handsome men. That night I thought about one man in particular. His name was Richard, Richard Johnson, even thinking about him now makes me smile. The way he’d flirt with me, he had to be the worst of them all. He’d walk up to my table with his guitar slung over his broad shoulders, pull out a chair, and sit while I tried hard to pretend I didn’t see him. He’d lick his full, brown lips and smile anyway.
Richard was only twenty-one, and I knew his mama well. She used to babysit me. I’d always had a crush on him.
“You’re Josephine’s girl?” he asked me the first time I snuck into Earl’s.
I was so shocked that a man as good-looking as him would talk to me; all I could do was nod and tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear.
He eyed me while he chewed on the end of his toothpick. “Do your mama and daddy know you’re here?” he asked.
“I’m almost eighteen,” I said. “Besides, my mama and daddy trust me.”
Every night after that, he’d always come over and talk to me. Although, I could tell he was flirting it wasn’t as outright as some of the other men who I wouldn’t have given the time of day anyway. Richard seemed nice enough, and when I walked into Earl’s the night I turned eighteen it was like I’d gone from a girl to a woman.
And in the other corner, also anxious to return to the ring, let me re-introduce....Eleven.
I had just slammed down a cocktail and was happily contemplating my eternal damnation when the angel walked into my bar. Solid muscle, like all the warriors, and with that same self-satisfied, holier-than-thou attitude. It was the set of the jaw. Gave them away every time. He paused just inside the door, scanning the patrons to the right and left of him. After a moment, satisfied his glamour concealed him, he headed in my direction.
A low whistle floated over my shoulder. “Who in the hell is that fine piece of flesh?” Riley asked.
“Who in heaven, actually.” I poured a bubbling green concoction into a martini glass and slid it down the counter. “HR security. Working a pretty tight glamour on his wings.”
“No way.” He shot me a look of disbelief.
“He’s straight anyways,” Quinn said, reaching past us for the ice scoop. “So I may have to take him off your hands.” She threw him a honeyed smile and sauntered down to the other end of the bar to deliver a couple drinks.
“Never stopped me before,” Riley grumbled under his breath as the subject of our conversation leaned up against the black marble.
The angel hooked me in an intense gaze and parted perfect coral-colored lips to speak.
“What’ll it be, Wings? Can I interest you in a synthetic blood-tini?” I smiled real big, flashing some fang.
His smug expression fell and a scowl replaced it. “You’re Zyan Star?” Half statement, half question, his voice dark velvet.
“What makes you think that?” I asked.
“Well, you’re a vamp, and you can apparently see through my glamour, which only a witch could do. A pretty rare combination of talents.” He leaned forward even more, arms crossed over his chest, bulging against his gray t-shirt. Out of the corner of my eye,
I could see Riley and Quinn staring from a few feet away.
I smiled slightly, pushing a strand of burgundy hair behind my ear. “So, what brings a pretty boy like you to Noir? Somehow I don’t think it’s just because you decided to take a walk on the naughty side and mingle with the commoners.”
He tensed, standing up very straight. “I’m here on official business for the Holy Representative.” His milky white skin seemed to glow as he said it.
“He wants to hire you for a job.” He enunciated each word as it came out, as if I wouldn’t understand him. Which, actually, I didn’t.
“Come again, Wings?”
“My name is Eli,” he said, with a very angelic glower.
“Of course it is,” I crooned. “So, Eli, I kind of thought I just heard you say that the Holy Representative, that is, the direct ambassador between Heaven and Earth, God’s right hand man, all that’s pure and holy, etc., wants me, a damned witch vampire who is technically within the Devil’s jurisdiction, to work for him. Did I hear that right?"
Don’t forget to visit the other two sites and vote for your favorite in those bouts as well! Remember the WRiTE CLUB motto, it’s not about the last man/woman standing, it’s about who knocks the audience out!