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  1. So, I'm sitting here, working on the second rewrite of a fantasy story. I had this weird idea while I was writing my sci-fi novel, and I just had to put it on hold to write this short story. It's also the first and only fantasy story I've ever written:eek:

    I'm half way through this rewrite, and I'm thinking it might be readable, instead of embarrassing, but I also have a little fear of letting people see this story.

    I kind of consider fantasy outside of my comfort zone. I'm concerned with how it's going to turn out. I usually write about either the future, or modern day.

    So here's a question, how many rewrites do you usually do before you let some one read it?
  2. I wanted to post some thing so people here can get an idea of what my writing is like. This short was probably written about 2 years ago, and was originally just an exercise to create and "build up" as many characters as I could in a short amount of time.

    You can kind of see where it just falls apart because I just wanted to stop writing (I can still tell the exact line I was on when I decided I wanted a cigarette), but hopefully it's enjoyable up to that point.

    Word count: 1,447

    Just Another Strange Day​

    John woke up groggy, and slowly. He rubbed his eyes and sleepily fought his way to a sitting position on the edge of the bed. He stepped into his house slippers, yawning and stretching, getting the sleep out of his system. He stood up and looked at himself in the full length mirror. His brown eyes were red and puffy, his short, brown-almost-black hair was standing up on one side of his head. He decided that his tanned skin looked ghoulish this early in the morning.

    He needed coffee. He went to the door and shuffled drowsily down the hallway turning left into his kitchen.


    Jane jumped back and put a hand to her nose. She had left a cupboard door open last night and ran straight into it in her zombie like state. She closed the door with one hand, rubbing a spot on her breast where the corner had jabbed her. She hadn't even been awake for five minutes, and already this day was taking a downturn. She sighed and ran her fingers thru her golden hair.

    She pulled a bag of black gold out of the freezer, and spooned out some french roasted rocket fuel into her coffee machine. As she grabbed the glass pot and turned towards the sink, She started getting this feeling. Something was slightly off about today. Lost in her thoughts, she held the pot under the faucet till she felt water overflowing onto her hand. She stopped the tap and poured the excess out, shaking the feeling from her head. She turned back to the machine, mentally counting the minutes until the coffee would be ready. But coffee insisted it wasn't going to happen, and the slick handle of the pot slipped from Jane's hand.


    Glass and water exploded everywhere like knee high nuke had been set off in the kitchen. Groaning, Jimmy reached for a paper towel, and started collecting the biggest pieces of glass. Water had soaked into his house slippers, the fur lining now squishing between his toes.
    He could mop later, it was just water after all. He needed to wake up, so he headed for the bathroom. The feeling started nagging him again as he was brushing his teeth. He looked into the mirror, seeing if his own green eyes might hold the answer.

    Did I have something to do today?
    Not that I can think of.
    Is somebody coming to visit?
    Nobody has said anything.

    Whatever, standing there and wondering about it was about as useless as counting the freckles on his pale cheeks. He spit out his toothpaste and stripped down to shower. The water was warm and relaxing. He stood with his back to the shower head, letting the stream soak thru his red hair, and around his face, eyes closed. Jimmy reached into the shower caddy behind his head searching by feel for the shampoo bottle. Not being very careful, his clumsy fingers knocked the bottle out of the wire frame. The shampoo bounced off the edge of the tub and sailed in a graceful ark straight into the toilet.


    Mommy was going to be mad. First Jamie had made the mess in the kitchen, and now she had knocked Mommy's nice smelling shampoo into the toilet. Jamie wanted to cry, but Daddy said big girls don't cry. She was a Daddy's girl, but she wouldn't admit it. She didn't want to be made fun of.

    She sat in the tub, with water up to her chest and listened for sounds in the hallway. Maybe if she was quick enough, and got the bottle out, no one would know. But the toilet was dirty, she didn't want to stick her hand in it.
    But she didn't want to get in trouble either. She slid down the tub to sit next to the toilet, and leaned over to look inside. The bottle was nearly full and had sank to the bottom. She was going to have to stick her whole arm in that icky water. She held her breath and turned her head away as she plunged her tiny hand into the water. It was cold and YUCKY!

    She pulled the bottle out and stuck her hand in the tub water again quickly so she could wash all the toilet germs off her arm. After she was satisfied she was clean, she stood up, and put the bottle back into the shower caddy again. How did that thing fall from up there anyway?

    The water draining from the tub, Jamie towel dried, dressed, and brushed her hair. She liked it when Daddy said she was a big girl, so she did it all by herself to make him happy. Reaching out for the door handle she started to feel bad tho. She looked back at the shower caddy. Was she feeling guilty? She didn't really know. She just felt bad.

    Maybe she felt bad because mommy would be using toilet shampoo. That had to be it. She took a deep breath. She would tell her parents what she had done, that will make the bad feeling go away. And maybe they would be proud of her for not lying.

    She opened the door and started walking towards the living room barefoot. "Mommy, I've got to tell you somethi-"


    "SONUVA!" Jack jumped back on one foot, grabbing for the toe he had stubbed on the coffee table leg. He flopped on the arm of the couch and rubbed his foot until the pain subsided. He looked around the living room floor at all the crap scattered around. A pile of circuit boards and broken plastic had tumbled off the table when he kicked it, waiting for an unsuspecting foot to step on the jagged pieces. Cigarette burns dotted the floor, and an ashtray had been tipped over spilling butts everywhere. Food wrappers, garbage and other assorted horrors lurked in the shadows of furniture.

    He looked up at his entertainment center. The VCR was gone, the DVD player, the Stereo. Great, just great. He picked up a baggy off the table and examined it. It was empty save for a powdery residue. He threw it back down next to the pipe, disgusted. When he was really spun he liked to tear things apart, but this was a bit excessive. How many people had been over here? How long ago had it been? He was having trouble remembering anything before this morning.

    At least the TV was still there, intact, not sold or stolen. He picked the remote up off the couch, but it was too light. He looked at it in his hand, it was nothing more than a plastic shell now. Jack cursed and threw it at the television.


    The lizard must have tapped the glass pretty hard to make a sound that loud. Jenny looked at the terrarium above the tv, and indeed, Drags had managed to tip his log over, again. She walked across the room, catching wiffs of carpet shampoo wafting up from her footsteps.

    Picking up the antique wooden stool brought back memories. It was simple, and made of maple. Her husband had made it years ago when they were both young. She placed the stool in front of the terrarium and stood up to switch off Drags lights. After removing the cover she reached in and put the log standing again, this time a bit further away from the glass. As she pulled her hand out, a sudden burst of wrongness over whelmed her. Her knees felt weak and she grabbed the top of the lizards tank to steady herself, but it was to late to regain her balance. She fell, pulling the dangerous glass cube down, and tipping the entire entertainment center over.


    Julia’s forehead bled where the satellite receiver box hit her,


    Jordon cried out as the TV fell into his ribs


    the phone book hit Jerome square in the -


    Jackie's eyes -


    The wall was white. No it wasn't. There was something else there. It was red. But not the whole wall, the whole wall was white. And soft. Jame's nose hurt, and felt wet.

    Something was wrong. Wait, no. Something WAS wrong. It was wrong then. Not now, nonono. Something was right now!

    Candy? The white shirts candy never tasted good. Today it was a different color. White and blues, white and blues, whites'n'blueswhites'n'blueswhites'n'blues... Whites and reds?

    James nose hurt. He was tired. The ground is soft. It's sleepy time now.