Thread: Write this scene!

Mark tried and tried to fit the large, yellow car into the parking spot, but it wouldn't work. What am I going to do? he thought. He noticed that there was a handicap parking spot right beside the one he was trying to squeeze into.
No one is ever going to use that spot he reasoned. He pulled the Hummer back out and put it three quarters in the spot he had been trying to fit it in and one quarter into the handicap spot. There he thought, satisfied.

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Here's mine:

Ah, life is good. I have a good job, a good wife, and a great double life!

"Are you getting in touch with the mayor, Henry?" my boss walks by and asks me.

"Of course, sir!" I smile.

That was a lie. I'm on the phone with my boyfriend.


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rain bounced off the path, slithering down into the drains that lined the side of the road. droplets of rain slithered down the windows of cars that sped by, sending sprays up into the air, soaking a couple that stood on the pavement. they looked lost in each others eyes, noticing nothing but each other as they whispered their goodbyes. wiping the last tear from her eye, the lady backed away and stepped into a car that had pulled up. as the car pulled away from the path, she looked out the rain covered window and watched as her true love disapeared into the past.
heather


(i'm not sure how to get a picture onto the bottom so sorry.)

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My pic won't show up...
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I watched as the man slipped his shirt of his head, enthralled by the muscled chest he exposed in the process. There were several tattoos on his flesh but the most visible was that of a wolf. It was painted on his back and hit me right between the eyes as he turned to put the shirt on the desk chair.

He was a gorgeous specimen of masculinity, all tan and tawny and lean, sleek body. He was truly more beautiful than anyone I’d ever seen before. His hair was dark and hung down his back. Some sections were braided, and there were beads braided in, as if a young girl had done it.

Movement flashed and caught my eye, but then I decided I must have imagined it. For where I’d seen movement, on his arm, there was only a tattoo of a beautiful girl also with dark hair, but she wore Goth clothes. I shock my head to clear it, and decided to stop staring a hole in him.

I turned and walked back to Sunshine, my mare, which’d stayed where I’d tied her in the woods. I rode back to my home, a ranch from which you could see the Colorado Mountains. When I arrived, however, someone awaited me. Or so my foreman said.

When I took my mare to the stable, I was astonished to find that the guest who awaited me was, in fact, the man I’d seen in the woods. Rather than the half naked splendor he’d been previously in, he was clad fully, in dark jeans and a black t-shirt.

He stood with Demon, my black stallion and whispered words in a different language. Whatever he’d said, it calmed Demon. I walked over to Sunny’s stale and began to put her away in it.

After I’d fineshed, I noticed he was still over with Demon. I walk softly over.

“Do you know that this horse hates men?” I asked.

The stranger turned.

“You’re the only man he’s ever let near him. I personally tend to this horse because he is hostile toward my hands,” I said softly, as I touched Demon. He nuzzled my hand, like he always had.

“You are Karina Maxwell?”

“Depends on who’s asking,” I replied as I touched my horse, keeping my eyes off the man.

“You know Maggie Tigarin?”

“I knew her mother,” I replied.

“Well, then. You’re the woman I need,” he replied. “Asheron Parthenopaeus,” he said, offering me his hand.

“If you’ve heard of me, Mr. Parthenopaeus, then you know I don’t touch anyone except the horses,” I replied, ignoring his hand.

“Ah. Pshycic. You help the horses then. Never touch a person flesh-to-flesh,” he said his voice soft. I remained silent.

“Because it gives me a jolt so strong I can’t stand it. I live their memories, their emotions, their thoughts, their dreams.”

“Then you are the one I came to see. I need you to help a man.”

“I do not touch people flesh-to-flesh,” I replied. “It is painful to me to touch anyone.”

“Would you do it for a friend of your best friend’s daughter?” he asked.

He’d played the trump card. I could refuse Maggie nothing. “Yes,” I hissed out in a whisper.

“Then come with me,” he whispered. I touched him, my palm on his flesh, for I wanted to know his feelings on this.

He hissed, and I knew his feelings. Quickly, I pulled away.

“Apparently, you have a steak in Nick Gautier, Maggie’s friend, and his survival. He was your best friend. How is your Simi?” I asked and enjoyed his flinch.


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Next pic:

[/QUOTE]

Mom wasn't your run of the mill soccer mom's. Hardly. No, my mother, or as she preferred to be called "Tunrida" was a bit "off" as they say. It all began in the summer of my 12th year. 1977. The year the king died. "My Way" was keeled over on a toilet, bloated and dead. But the day Elvis died marked the day my mother entered the satanic world of Tunrida.

It was a dark and stormy night...once chosen as the worst opening line of the year popped into my head as I walked out to my car. Behind the neighbors house loomed a sky that screamed bad weather and tornadoes. Racing back inside I grabbed the family and headed for our storm shelter. No sooner had we latched the steel storm doors and turned on the emergency radio did we hear that tornadoes were indeed ripping across our town.

The steel doors began to rattle then strain against the winds as the storm past above our house, swirling and lifting causing destruction to anything in it's path.

Moments later all was quite, eerily so...in moments our lives had changed.

And my picture...

"Oh la, la what a beautiful morning", Sally's voice echoed from the bathroom into the living room. I picked up my knitting. Inside my heart, I smiled. It has been a long time since I heard such a pleasant sound from my daughter. I felt elated that she was the one they chose for the hairspray commercial. It was the best thing that could have happened, I thought. Now her life had a positive direction. Now I felt that I had my daughter back. I was proud and excited for her.

Suddenly there came a piecing scream followed by a loud thump.


"What is wrong?"

"Mom, help me, I can't see!"

"Can't see? What do you mean you can't see? Open the door!" I felt my heart pounding in my chest. What could possible be wrong? Just a few minutes ago, I heard her singing and now she was yelling.

What is wrong? I asked again as I pressed through the bathroom doorway. I looked at her; she was thrashing her hands in the air.

"Oh my gawd, Sally what happened?"

"I thought that this was body spray, and I sprayed my face. But it is hairspray! Look at me," she sobbed. "Look at my eyes, they are swollen and red, and they sting as if I were stung by a wasp! I am ruined! How can I do that commercial this afternoon with my eyes looking like this?"

"Calm down, and I call Dr. Brown. It will be okay, I promise."

I had no idea if things would be okay, but for the sake of Sally, and my sanity I hoped upon hope that things would be okay. It just had too.

Sorry I do not know how to put a picture on here....so someone else can, please.....Citygirl

Thanks for adding a picture for me, Holliston. lol

Originally Posted by citygirl

maybe my story is on here, but I do not see it. I will check, and if not then I will put it on again. thanks.

I'll add a pic for ya....

'PUN"ishment: This will inevitably become a "tall tail". One where the "largest" priority will be to keep "abreast" of the "small" details. Obviously a well "heeled", "short" admirer and practitioner of "statuesque blonds", appreciated the "heights" some will try to "elevate" themselves to notoriety. Someone will always "skirt" conventional way to get a "leg" up on the competition.

The waves crashed with an unearthly thunder. They rolled, one after another, onto the shore, building more and more every time they collided with the sand, and sent people tumbling into the watery abyss. Greg stood on what was left of the pier, unable to move as a kiosk of cotton candy had fallen on him. He cocked his head to see the waves. He expected to see them below, but as he glanced at the wrecked end of the pier, a wall of deep blue formed and then crashed. The pier rumbled and Greg gasped for breath, but he couldn't move.
Another wave rolled in after the deathly one that had demolished most of the pier.
What's happening? Greg thought. Everything seemed normal only a few moments ago, but suddenly, unimaginably huge waves began to pile on the beach.
The wave, now clear over Greg's head began to descend as Greg felt heavy drops of water rain on him, and push the kiosk down even more, crushing his lungs.
In his last moments of life, as Greg watched the water consume him, he thought, Fuck, today was payday.

He sat in the sand looking and the waves crashing in and remembered the past 48 hours. He can still hear Bianca screaming and feel her hand gripping his as the plane fell like a shot bird into the sea.
He remembered washing up on the beach and coughing out lung-fulls of water. He looks down to his chest and sees deep scratches from the coconut tree he climbed yesterday, scratches that will definitely leave scars if he doesn't get off this shit-hole island in the next few days.
Standing now, looking behind him at the tiny forest farther into the island he can see his shadow stretched out over the sand.
Is that really my shadow, am I really here? he thinks to himself. Like fucking Robinson Caruso, or Tom fucking Hanks.... Shit. He shakes his head clearing his thoughts and moves off the beach to the tiny half assed lean-to he built near the edge of the forest on the southernmost beach side.
I've never been this fucking thirsty. I can't wait until I hear search helicopters, or see a ship, or... something. They wouldn't leave me here like this, they can find a plane as soon as it crashes. Fucking Christ, it's the 21st century, hell... if my laptop wasn't 2000 feet underwater, I might even have a decent wi-fi signal. Smiling and laughing to himself he relaxes on the sand and drifts into a light sleep. His dreams sometimes going back to the loss of his daughter and to the terrible situation that he is in.

***

He awakes suddenly and realizes he cant see shit, it's the middle of the night and his fire had gone out. Adjusting to the darkness his eyes started to focus in on things and he saw his pile of tinder and lit it quickly with the black Bic lighter he had in his pocket. Setting it down and putting a few dry sticks on top, he stands and stretches and looks around. Then he hears it again. Well, not so much hears it as he feels it in his chest. An enormous clanging noise like a massive bell, the vibrations made his feet feel numb and he stumbled away, trying as hard as he could not to fall face first into the fire.
Things were moving all around him now, what seemed like tiny men with tiki masks on flickered around in his peripheral vision, but he could not focus on anything. As soon as the vibrations stopped he turned south and ran toward the beach, to the same place he beached himself. In the distance, glowing in the half moons light was Bianca.
My little girl! The thought rang through his mind like the noise from moments before. He screams her name, and runs as fast as he can towards her. But something is different, shes so pale, and... is that a starfish stuck on her neck? He stops running realising something is very, very wrong. Half of her left cheek was missing, her tiny teeth exposed all the way back to her jawbone. Tiny teeth gritting and chattering as she shivers.
Suddenly, a pillar of light flickers on from the middle of the island. Expanding upwards to the clouds, giving them a surreal red glow so bright it seemed as if the moon disappeared. In this new light he can see 30 or 40 bodies crawling out of the calm sea. The one closest to him (other than Bianca, who was staggering towards him on broken legs) he recognized as the stewardess from the plane... and he begins to run.
He ran almost three quarters of the way around the island and halted, breathing heavily he finished counting 100 bodies crawling up from the waves. Looking behind him he realized that almost all of them were following him with their strange stumbling gate. He realised he has no where to run, this island is so small. He collapsed into the sand and shut his eyes.



thanks for the great challenge, i had fun writing this. please post another similar challenge

Contemplating her next move as she sat looking at the ugly yellow hummer in her way, she hit the steering wheel in disgust. Mary had finally gotten her license after the horrid boating accident that left her without legs. This was to be her first solo drive into town and there wasn’t another handicap parking space within miles of the grocery store but this one.

Taking the short drive to the other side of the vehicle she noted that there was no display of handicap status at all. Coming to a stop behind the four wheel box again, she tried to calm the seething anger that boiled toward someone she wished so many times she could be like. Someone able to walk miles as she once did, but who refused to walk the short one foot distance it would have taken to move the box over so she would have a place to park.

A slow grin appeared on her face as she surveyed the area. All seemed so quiet. The anger she felt moments ago seemed to fade with the stillness of the streets. Placing her van in reverse she carefully maneuvered it into a position that felt comfortable.

Once more a quick glace gave her the all clear for her step. Carefully, with determination and settled in gear she pressed on the hand held gas peddle in her hand.

Mary was amazed it only took one quick jolt to the hummer to send it flying out in the silent street, blocking both directions of any would be traffic. Satisfied she unbuckled her seat belt and readied herself to exit.


I tried to get a picture on this thing but dont seem to know how to do it yet..... sorry
and I believe I wrote on the wrong picture as well. Ok, second day may be better....