#nsctw100

My entry for the not-so-classically trained writer’s ‘Hooked in 100′ contest. I already submitted it a few days back, but I thought i’d toss it up here too,for funsies.

It turns out word restrictions physically pain me, but I tried the best I could to fit my ideas into 500 words. Enjoy.

The creature followed behind him, and it was getting closer. His breath burned in his lungs, the chill of desert nights freezing him from inside out, except that his skin was burning hot, and his muscles felt as though they would collapse from beneath him at any moment. 

(no, not like the Journey song... just a ~happy~ coincidence)

word count: 422 !!

PS - submitted at 11:20 PM :) just barely made it....

There are many reasons not to board a train at midnight, just as there are many reasons not to run away, and even more reasons yet not to trust an urban myth (no doubt warped through word of mouth).

But as the young girl stood by the train tracks late that night it was clear she was far beyond anything as concrete as reason.

She shifted in her ruined Mary Jane’s. Her stockings were torn at the knee and her skirt was muddied. It had been no easy feat breaking into a train station after hours, yet she was not lacking in determination nor desperation.

For a moment she wondered what her parents would think of her now. Disheveled, dirty. A stowaway. For a moment she wondered if they’d miss her, but then she chided herself for wishful thinking.

Instead, she set her shoulders straight. Her platinum braid caught the light of the moon through a grimy window, projecting a cold radiance onto the dull platform. It did nothing to warm the atmosphere. The cold draft chilled her bones and her ears rang from the pervasive silence.

Hesitantly she stepped towards the tracks and opened her palm.

Nestled inside were a baby tooth, three buttons and a silver coin, just like she’d been told. With a deep breath of finality, she turned her wrist and watched them disappear into the depths below.

She waited.

And as she stood there for several minutes, waiting, she began to feel incredibly silly for believing that boy on the playground. This had all been a mistake. A horrible mistake.

She had nothing left. Nowhere to go. No one to turn to.

She’d never felt so hopeless.

A hot tear rolled down her cheek and splashed into the abyss below.

And all at once she was deafened by a chiming coming from the rafters and echoing through the platform. She spun on her heel to see the large hands on the great steel clock grind into place.

12:00.

She turned back to face the tracks, and it was there, as if an apparition.

The train was smooth and black. The painted silver letters on its side read:

The Midnight Train.

A door slid open and she boarded without a second thought- to her family, her friends or her fate.

The door closed promptly behind her.

The hands on the clock inched ever so slightly forward.

12:01.

Just like that, the train was gone, in the same fashion as it arrived:

My entry for not-so-classicallytrainedwriter’s writing contest. It might suck (actually it WILL suck) due to the fact that I tried to stick as close to the preferred minimum of words as possible, but I’m gonna give it a go anyway. *crosses fingers* May the odds be ever in my favor.

Subject: A short (terrible) summary of my W.I.P novel, Ascendence At Dawn, the first installment in the Cerebrals series.

Word Count: 116 words

~

She will tolerate no more.

Time and time again, her life has been unraveled and pulled apart, the Experimenters torturously plucking apart the cosmic strings of energy that held together what little bearings of reality she had left. They dissect her mentally each and everyday, using their enhanced technology to peer into her evolved mind. Since she Ascended at age nine, they’ve dedicated years of their time to this science of shattering her, trying to figure out what exactly made her, and hundreds more, their definition of an abomination; a Cerebral, a mentally enhanced human with unique and strange abilities; but she wasn’t like the others.

She was a Supernova.

Okay, so it’s closer to 300 words, but still. My entry for The Not-So-ClassicallyTrainedWriter’s contest is below the cut

Get up... get up! he yelled internally. His body refused to operate with its normal efficiency. The strands of code visible in his mind's eye taunted him with its refusal to function. What was his physical status? Where was he located? And WHAT was that sensation causing him to feel so uncomfortable?! Even something as simple as viewing the time was blocked off to him! Every vital part of his sensors had been disabled, and as a result, he felt crippled. Why wouldn't his body cooperate with him?!

With an annoyed grunt, he managed to get one finger to twitch. Through that he slowly figured out how to force the rest of his body to comply. He wobbled in place as he peered down at himself, shocked at what he found. No longer did the familiar metallic surface of his mechanical body gleam back at him. Instead, short and coarse cobalt fur spanned its majority, broken only by the soft and shorter peach fur covering his arms and belly. His joints connected smoothly and seamlessly beneath their layer of skin and muscle.

That was when the reality of the situation began to sink in. The former robot was now a living creature.

His face grew pale, and his heart raced - the foreign sensations causing his panic to bubble over.

For not-so-classicallytrainedwriter. 

[435 words]

The waterfalls around him cascaded in all sorts of directions, while trees that coiled & grew at fast rates died faster than they would if they existed in his world. Cyrus couldn't help but wonder if the trees here were once native to the Sinnoh region as he had once been, or if they were to be found in other parts of the world. He certainly couldn't recall ever seeing trees such as these in his travels. Then again, he also couldn't recall seeing the sky swirling the clouds in a way oil in water might, or how random plots of land reappeared and disappeared with ease. The world was new to him. This world had the promise of possibilities, unlike the one he was from. Away from the concepts of organization, and creation, could he feel himself in his potential.

 As he wandered the wayward realm, Cyrus carefully calculated what action he should take now that his plans were thwarted. Walking through the distorted forest had a calming effect on the former Galactic leader. Here, where the sky was an endless swirl of black & blue, helped to sort the man’s thoughts from his feelings; he knew he couldn't go back to the Sinnoh region. Not that he even wanted to in the first place. Cyrus had a hunch that despite his absence, his four main goons should have no problem keeping his dream alive, even if for only a short while.

 Hopping from one plot of land to the other, he also knew for a fact that with those children running around, everything that he worked for would be completely destroyed. Twelve years of researching, working, rising up through the ranks, gaining the tools and expertise needed into making his goals a reality-

 ‘A world without feelings’, he thought. All to come crashing down by those kids. Twice. Quite frankly, he would've been surprised had it not been for the fact that they both managed to infuriate him with their defiance. Cyrus wasn't used to the fury welling up from inside his chest. He could deal with the occasional fuck-ups that his “organization” made every once in a while, but thinking about how their blunders were because of mere children only made him feel more and more enraged until…..