The First Challenge for JU Writers Club

Where are my clean socks?

Mason,

Sheer brilliance in 5 words Well done...

Good one M! I wouldn't have thought of that myself, brilliant as Mark said!

Ahem, my first attempt:

He repeated, speaking crossly this time, "Where in the hell are my clean socks?" He looked in the laundry basket, nothing. "Maybe it fell behind the machine" he thought to himself, pulling the bulky dryer away from the wall. "I can't fucking stand this anymore, I'm going to be late for work if I don't find those darn socks!"

Thank God for rule number 2!

(and numbers 4 & 8 too!)

e repeated, speaking crossly this time, "Where in the hell are my clean socks?" He looked in the laundry basket, nothing. "Maybe it fell behind the machine" he thought to himself, pulling the bulky dryer away from the wall. "I can't fucking stand this anymore, I'm going to be late for work if I don't find those darn socks!"

I love the symbolism of this. He willingly and easily says The "F" word, but will only say darn. Brilliant.!

for rule number 2! (and numbers 4 & 8 too!)

yeah, what he said!

I love the symbolism of this. He willingly and easily says The "F" word, but will only say darn. Brilliant.!

Hehe, thx, I didn't even look at it that way! My thought was, he's married and have kids around! But that's just my thoughts, what about you others out there?!

As Good As Dead

The town was one of those blink-and-you-will-miss-it places. It barely rated a mention on any maps. At one time in its past though, it had been a hustle-bustle mini-city, a trading route for cattle and cane and a overnight stop for dry-mouthed travellers going to and from the big cities. Now, it was a maligned, ignored place. It was desperately hot, dry and dusty in summer and frigidly cold, dry and dusty in winter.

On the main street, most of the shop windows were either boarded up or broken. These buildings seemed to glare accusingly at passers-by, forcing them to turn their heads back to the road beyond. The few shops still open survived due only to stubbornness and tenacity. The few open doors weren’t beckoning or inviting. The few open doors looked more like dark maws of hungry beasts from other realms.

If one was to stop, perhaps mistaking abandonment for quaintness, the first thing one would notice would be the smell. The town smelt of decay. A quick wander past the shop windows, maybe with hopes of finding a bargain treasure, one would see the dead flies piled up against the inside of the shop windows, the dust-thick remnants of a once-standing mannequin and little else.

If one were to stop, perhaps mistaking silence for quietude and take a walk to the far end of the main street, one would see the small cemetery, tucked behind rusted, peeling iron gates. Only foundations and charred ruins indicate where a church once stood. Few headstones had survived and those that had were covered in semi-literate graffiti – ‘Bonz woz ear’ 89; ‘Michy Luvs SP’; ‘DR sux hard’. Like perverted floral arrangements, beer bottles and cigarette butts festoon these final resting places.

If one were to stop, perhaps mistaking emptiness for emotion, one would quickly climb back into the car, lock the doors and speed off to the next, more pleasant destination. The town wasn’t alive anymore. No tourist was going to fall in love with it and reopen the local gallery. No retired couple were going to buy the Post Office and renovate it into a bed and breakfast for weekend couplings of rich city folk. No fresh-starter was going to reopen the grand old pub and reinvigorate the community with talk of folk music festivals and poetry readings.

The music in this town died when the pub closed its doors years ago. Music didn’t visit here anymore. Art and culture soon followed. The mysterious muse, that wondrous, difficult mistress of creativity and passion, had declared the town dead. Now it was too long gone to ever be revived. All that was left was its skeleton; faded signs, cracked footpaths and abandoned shop fronts.

...glad this isn't a competition or I'd concede right now, Maso. That was really, really good...

That was really, really good...

Thanks, mate. Can hardly wait to see what you will put up

Maso...that was very good. Kind of true for some places. It was sad. I wanted to revive the town.

that was very good. Kind of true for some places.

Thanks, Kelly. I've seen it with some places where people try to revive them but for some reason, it just doesn't work. Some places, as with people, just don't feel good.

deep purple sky towers gathering together like elephants conferencing for rampage

I really like this, Whip. Great imagery...

You know, I've had this recurring image of Muse as a biker chick. I can just see her "perched on a fence... smoking a cigarette with more apathy than satisfaction." You've really inspired me. Thanks

No, thank you!

Just you wait for it. You've started me on a roll.

[Kelly...revive away.

Yes, Kelly, go ahead. This is exactly what this club is all about.

Whip..Maso...Whew..you guys set the bar high.

I hope to put something up for you tonight.

That accompanied(sp) his story beautiful. I'm not worthy, but I will give it a shot.

[I hope to put something up for you tonight

Looking forward to it.

I'm not worthy

So you say...

Hey, I've got it..I am so excited. I hope I can make it work. I will be back. I just have to write it in my head at work.

wowza. i'm loving this...



(and feeling sooooo inadequate)

  

He sat in a dark corner of the small tavern, his back to the wall. He could see everyone who came and went while remaining unnoticed in the shadows. He sipped at his drink and returned it silently to the dark wood table who's surface was rough and scarred from years of abuse.

Smoke hung heavily just below the ceiling and its scent mixed with those of sweat, stale beer, and that undefinable stench that was the hallmark of all such low class hideaways. The air was heavy and close. Men sat hunched at the heavy wooden bar, elbows on the stained top or the railing that at one time in the dim past may have been shining brass but was now nothing more than a dulled and pitted ghost of it's former glory. They nursed their beers, talked amongst themselves, and occasionally uttered laughter that would curdle the blood of lesser men.

These men were of no interest to him. Murderers, thieves, and traders in all things upon which polite society frowned. To most people these men would be dangerous, but he gave them little more than passing notice. They were no threat to him. He could easily dispatch any or all of them without a second thought, but he was not here for them. The men sensed that he was not to be trifled with. Perhaps it was the cold gaze of his gray eyes which seemed to pierce right into the soul. Perhaps it was the sure and confident manner he moved. Perhaps it was simply fear of the unknown. What they did know for certain was that no man walked into this place like he owned it unless he was either very, very dangerous or very, very crazy. They didn't care to know which and that suited him fine.

He felt that tonight would be the night. If asked he couldn't say why he felt it, he just did. He had been waiting and watching for many years and it had never felt as close as tonight. Patience was his ally and his strength. He could sit here in the shadows for as long as needed. It was to be tonight. It had to be. He again sipped at his drink and waited.

It was now growing late and several of the men had staggered off to do what business they had in the dark of night. Business that shied away from the light and goodness of the sun. He waited.

A shadow passed by the dark doorway of the tavern. It was but a flicker slightly darker than the night, but his sharp eyes didn't fail to catch it. He felt his stomach muscles tighten. Was this it? He breathed slowly and steadily and he waited. He couldn't afford a lapse of attention or patience at this point. He couldn't afford to give himself away when he was so sure that it was close now. His ears picked up the slight sound of a leather sole scuff on the cobblestones and he waited.

The shadow returned to the doorway, filling it this time. A body moved from the dark of night into the dimly lit tavern. It was a man, but not the same sort of man as is normally seen here. His clothes were of a better quality and were clean. He stood erect, without the stooped shoulders of those for whom life was a burden of survival.

The man stopped just inside the doorway and looked around. His face revealed no hint of fear as he surveyed the remaining inhabitants of the place. The man's gaze passed over where he sat, seeming to not see him sitting there in the shadows. He breathed slowly and steadily and he waited. The man's gaze returned to his corner of shadow as the man began to slowly walk in his direction. This was finally it.

The man stopped directly in front of him. He returned his gaze easily. Slowly and carefully the man reached into his coat. This was definitely it! The man withdrew his hand and in it was an envelope. "I have been looking everywhere for you" said the man. He said nothing.

The man dropped the envelope onto the scarred table. "Do you know what this is?" the man asked him.

"I know" he replied darkly.

The man turned and walked away. When the man had left the tavern, he slowly reached over and picked up the envelope. He opened it and removed the piece of paper. He read it, carefully folded it, and returned it to the envelope.

So it had finally come. His wait was over. He slowly stood and walked out of the tavern with the envelope in his jacket pocket. Now that they had finally tracked him down he knew that he would have to pay them. There was simply no escaping those student loans.

Maso: How is it going with the blog group thing? I just think it would benefit everyone if we could post our writings as articles to that group. I think it would make it a bit easier for everyone to get and give feedback to each person.

There was simply no escaping those student loans.

  

I am IMPRESSED Mason! That was GOOD!

dive in babe, the water's fine.

plannin' on it, but I is sloooooooooooow....

I am IMPRESSED Mason! That was GOOD!

Thanks Joe. Coming from you, I am quite flattered.

Mason,

I really liked your piece. You caught the mood of the night and the place well. And it made me laugh As Shovel said, I'm loving this.

BlueDev,

I haven't been able to create the blog group. I have spoken to Cordelia and she is looking into it for me. I would rather we were able to post individually too. The other option is someone else can have a go at creating the blog group. This will mean they have to administer it, I guess but at least we'd get it created. Anyone want to volunteer?

Anyone want to volunteer?

I would, but I already have created one that my bro and I (and anyone else who wanted to post music reviews and related stuff) use. And it only lets you create one, so I can't create another.

I just tried again and got the following message again. It is really starting to annoy me now. I am going to let admin know again and see if they can do something about fixing this, if it can be fixed.

JoeUser.com is undergoing some changes to it's database. Please try back again soon

The word "mysterious" leads me to "enigma"...

"You are an enigma." My government teacher once told me with a thin smile.

Enigma? What is that? Is that good or bad?

I hurried home to the dictionary that day...and there it was..."puzzling, mysterious..."

Me, the easily invisible, awkward girl...the girl who rarely uttered a word....getting attention.

That made me feel special...hell, whether it was good or bad...it made me feel special.

An enigma...wow.