Thread: 05-29-06 | Deadlines

Literary Maneuvers: Deadlines

Opens: Monday, May 29th

Closes: Monday, June 12th

Judging Period: June 13th to June 20th (scores posted on the 21st)


Kudos to Ilan Bouchard for suggesting this maneuever's theme—I'm sure you'll all be thrilled.

Deadlines! This week's theme is deadlines! Our lives are full of them—school deadlines, work deadlines, bills, chores, literary maneuvers—they're everywhere! And they will, in some form or another, become part of a short story. You can turn the theme into anything you want, and originality is a good thing, but you must incorporate a deadline or deadlines into your piece. Oh, and one more thing: it must be fifty words or less.

For this maneuver, only prose will be allowed. Poetry takes away from the irony.


Your judges for this LM will be:

Hodge
zoya_brar
Pawn
FollowingShadow
The Space Cowboy
silverwriter
Oasis Writer

If anyone else would like to judge, let me know before the judging period starts.



Guidelines:

1) Your piece must be 50 words or less. Points will be deducted for entries that go over.

2) Your piece must have a title.

3) Grammar and spelling count, so proofread before you post.

4) One entry per person.

DEAD-SICK OF WAITING

“Hurry up!” I mumbled, rather than screamed. “The boss is biting my head off!”

Despite my pleas, nobody moves faster than a shuffle. I try to barge my way through, but nobody will budge. I’m stuck at the back. That’s the problem with being a zombie… deadlines.

__________________________________________________ ______________

I must apologize in advance for the horrible, horrible pun.

Sorry.

Off Topic:

I think we're ready to declare a winner.

Sudden Shift of Priorities

The disk on the passenger seat would get him the promotion. It had to be in his boss’s hands by 6:00 pm sharp. It was 5:54.

I need the money. I need this.

The collision was quick, and his consciousness faded.

I need a miracle. I need this.

Last Heartbeat

"My beat counter is off," he huffed to their sweaty rhythm.
Millie looked at him for the first time since they met on the street. "Never hearda that."
He nodded, shutting his eyes. "Today."
She pumped faster.
He tensed.
Millie squeezed.
"I hate Deadlines," she said and went to wash.

Off Topic:

Damn, this one was hard guys, but I liked it. Really challenging to keep the word count down. But it's exactly 50 words! And lol Darth, I like it.

Tick.

Tick.

A man, clean cut and proper, pulled from his pocket a stopwatch, studying it with a keen eye.

A heart monitor flat lined with a resounding beep. He put the stop watch back into his pocket.

Death, this man who was clean cut and proper, claimed a life.

Ok, here's my entry:




"Damn Professors" I mumbled as I walked from class.

Fifty million other things that need to be completed within the next week, and HE wants me to figure out how to write a short story on dealines.


I should have skipped his class this semester. And in 50 words or

Off Topic:

I totally forgot I suggested this, but I'm loving the submissions thus far.

Off Topic:

There are some serious entries here, I know, but the topic is funny as all get out. Can't wait to judge this one, lol.

Off Topic:

this is going to be fun!

Could I Have An Eternal Feast For One, Please?


"I'm sorry, sir, you can't go through."

"What do you mean?"

"Move aside, now."

"I won't."

"Look, I won't have to kill you."

"I think I'm dead anyway. A place in heaven, right?"

"No. You were to die yesterday."

"So? I struggled."

"You missed your reservation."

Deadline is The Thin Red Line (actually it’s more fluorescent pink) that divides two warring armies. You Walk the Line (step on the mine) and you are dead for the rest of your life. Thus deadline.

Hunger Fire

As his legs propelled him down the hallway, the constant friction of denim rubbing rapidly against rotund, inner thigh gave rise to a heat in his lower region, the displeasure a temporary distraction from his gnawing hunger. “Two minutes,” he thought, franticly. “The pastry cart closes... in two minutes!”

If A then B.

"Listen up, punk. You have eight seconds before-"

Either A or C.

"Six seconds, and you deliver or you die"

Not C, therefore A.

"Didn't bring - take one last look at the halogen, last fucking light you'll ever see-"

Therefore B (deadline failed).

Ten seconds. Jack was aware that his hands were trembling as he tried to hold the wire-cutters steady. Six seconds. Three wires. One choice. Jack ignored the drop of sweat that fell on his palm as he scissored the cutters together and cut the red wire. Wrong wire.

Oopsidaisy.

Boom!