Ummm....

Sorry if I am not really posting any story, but when do we get our audio anthologies?

war zeroes. by nadia.

(sorry to anyone who's heard this story every single day of the workshop. XD i butchered it at the reception and i wanted to post it to, yknow, show that there actually was a train of thought. :D so here it is. its chapter one. my bad, cool name group, this is probably the ninth time you've seen it.)

Never once have I loved war stories.

Not the fictional ones, especially not the real ones, and nothing in between. I never wanted the blood and guts, the guilt, the glory. (I wasn’t exactly the world’s toughest kid- but I was pretty damn close to it. I never made it a public thing that I was hurt- let alone did I get hurt at all.)

Before the war and the draft and the six and all that, we were a bunch a’ seniors. Last year of football, high school.

Where do I start with all this? The very beginning? The end? Mikey’s party? When Parker busted up his leg during the game?

Well, I guess the best place to start…is Mikey.

The only reason Mikey stayed around Bermuda was 'cause of us- at least that’s what he used to say. He was the kind of kid who actually had a future if he put his mind to things, but he was a jackass and everyone knew it. If Mikey could do anything, it was take a punch. He once took one square in the face to keep James and I from getting our asses kicked into a corner. All he said when they ran off on account of the police sirens was "damn, I didn’t get another hit."

He passed me a square and pushed me onto my mom’s porch with her swearing at me in the background. I can’t say I wasn't angry at him- but you didn’t pick a fight with Mikey when he was in a good mood. It was an unwritten law.

"Where the hell are you takin' me, Mikey?" I said, but he just threw me in the truck with the rest of the guys.

"Ah, sit on it, Andrew." he chuckled. The dust blew up in my face when he started the thing up, and James closed up the back of the pickup just in time so that ended up rammin' into him when Mikey floored it.

James grinned at me like a fool.

"Comfy down there, drew? not that you need to get off or anything- I think I’m right fine having' my pelvis crushed by your elbow."

"Good." I laughed. "’Cause I’m not gettin up."

James was the six foot, five inch star quarterback for Bermuda high- the loner of the group. James would've been an all American senior, the popular prom king with the bombshell girlfriend if it weren't for one thing. He didn’t talk to no one outside Cherry Bridges and the six of us. This kid who'd id spent most of my stupider years with never lost his cool, never backed down. And for these reasons- I was genuinely in awe of him.

Tonight, though, he was laughing (and I remember because honestly, James had to be loaded or the joke had to be pretty damn funny to make him laugh, and since he almost never touched beer, well, I guess it was the latter). My head bounced up and down on the truck bed, staring at Wally who wasn't actually stoned- but damn well seemed like it.

The four of us lurched forward when we hit a bump and careened through a fence into the corn fields. We visited these on an every-other-day basis and we'd been here a million times. This time wasn’t different. Mikey snapped his gum as he unlocked the back. Wally slid out. Parker pushed Frankie out of the front seat and onto the dry, cracked Kansas dust. Me and James slid into the back of the group, weaving and waving through corn fields.

But this wasn't the end of it. We didn't run off and get stoned or drunk in the wilderness. I didn't sleep with a broad in the middle of a field and my life didn't change.

Well, it did. Just not in the way I expected it.

After everyone in the six had run off with Mikey to go set somethin' or other on fire, or to go buy more cigs at the corner store, me and James got separated. Separated, I mean, in the way that no one in the entire group could possibly know where we were. To be perfectly honest, we had no idea of where the hell we were either.

After about an hour of wandering around in that place, I was right about done walkin', and James, bein' the smarter, more "reserved" of the two of us, sat me down so I wouldn't collapse from not breathing because I was talkin' so much.

"You’re out of your mind, James, bein' so calm about this. Its a corn field. A corn field! Like a maze, these things are- I’ve lost dog after dog in this place-" I said.

"Shut it, Andrew, before I walk off without you." James said in that signature "son-of-a-bitch" tone. And you can bet that I shut the hell up faster than he could say drew again.

Three strange things happened in the next two minutes, things that I’ll never quite be able to fully understand, I suppose. James lit a cig (he never smoked), he sighed (he never sighed), and he wiped his eyes.

Because there were tears comin' down from them.

I didn’t say anything at first, like he'd just stop if I kept silent, but he didn’t. He sat there with crap making its way down his face in this sort of awkward moment. This was James. James! Quarterback James that didn’t cry when he sprained his wrist or got pummeled down by Mikey in practice, who weighed twenty pounds more in muscle.

"Are you cryin'? Hah, I never thought I’d see the day when James goddamned Wilson let that happen in front of anyone-"

"I aint in the mood, Andrew." he said, without the whine that usually came with cryin'. And he called me my real name. My full name. Andrew. Andrew.

"...I didn't mean nothin', James, I was just-"

"I got it."

"Why you cryin'?"

He sighed again. "Baby." (James called me that in rooms, alone, and nowhere else, it was his safety word and he used it to remind me that I was younger than him).

"Sorry."

James never told me why he was cryin'. But I figured it was what happened when you'd just turned eighteen, you realize you're a man and all. He didn't touch me for the hour straight we sat out there, he didn’t say a word to me, just let the tears stream in the quiet. Not until we were about to leave did he do anything at all. He touched my cheek.

It was a brush. A tiny, tiny brush with his fingertips before he got up and called me baby again and not Andrew, which confused me.

He led me out of the field with our hands entangled in a worried, frantic clump, all while he shook like he was freezing. I didn't find out till the next day, when he was laying on my bedroom floor asleep (he didn't want to walk all the way home in the middle of the night) that he'd been drafted. I cried.

He was the first one I lost.

(song: warm whispers by missy higgins)

IMPORTANT MESSAGE!

HEY, I don't know if we were clear about this, but there will be an open mic portion to our reception. We hope that everyone attending shares their work. You must bring a copy of anything you will READ! Please be advised!

I already can not wait for next year.

I already can't wait for next year.
This was my first year, and I love it!

Kelsey Rice's anthology artwork

Hey, could I get this in the anthology? That would be great :)

Recording the Audio Anthology

Click here for directions about recording the audio anthology. I'm going to walk you through the process the first time, but I'm going to expect you to refer back to these directions throughout the morning, as this document contains the step by step directions for the entire process.

Anthology Title

I think the title pretty much speaks for itself. So...you guys have any ideas???? Just trying to get the conversation going for this afternoon!

Derek Speaks

Derek asked me to share his piece with all of you, since he could not access the blog himself.

Escape from the Elk Lodge."tell it like it is . . . .
Alright then.
if you insist,
woke up at eight A.M. and tried to drag
myself out of bed before church but I realized I was too tired to drive
as I'm still trying to wipe my friend's image from my eyes
and I didn't sleep at all so I
can't concentrate on a word this old man
is saying so I'm just going to fall asleep.

then a paradox and anomaly or whatever you might call it
came before my eyes cuz I watched this girl I know
take out a box of cigarettes and light up but I know
for a fact that she doesn't smoke so I decided to confront
her too bad she's not there and it's not even worth the
trouble because Pablo could've said it better so I'll stay here and shut up.

so distressed
distressed sounds somewhat like intercept
can I get a signal here

find me some receptionso after a cup of lobster bisque and some beer battered haddock
that guy looks over at me and says
"YOU
are the greatest guitarist I've ever heard." And I have to stop myself
from screaming out in pride yeah that's right I'm the greatest guitarist
this guy's ever heard and I didn't need to buy a fancy instrument or sabotage a rival's
act.

I'm walking with this knowledge just rying to recover from
a bizarre stream of consciousness and suddenly it's
nightfall and rain split
the sky and man I've never seen Clarence like this I'm
walking home and there's this other guy
who pretends like he knows me
but he doesn't
and now I'm afraid for my life.

I put on the mask I made for the performance this week
some kind of gray creature with thoroughly smooth skin
and I hear all my little friends freaking out as they talk about my
BUG EYES
my three antennae which I wish were cable antennae
which still doesn't explain why I still have no reception in a place where
phantom of the opera is a bit of an understatement because here
there are three phantoms that have been terrifying the young and old.

stream of thoughts
and anecdotes

I still have no reception.
they're all wrong
love, not necessity is the
mother of invention

but I forgot my friends
I can't sleep again.
my thoughts are moving too quick for me

arms limp
legs sore
wandered all around the town
hear it all again
see it all again
all in one long breath I'll
spout it out until my death
I think this is the way
people were meant to speak
a perfect sequence of unbridled thought fulfilled
at long last the page is filled
I could go on like this all day but I've told it like it is and you wouldn't
listen to meanyway.


Derek says to enjoy! He will be dropping by the reception, so we will see him soon :)...

serene by FBW

+serene is a forest on a winters night

serene is a bird in quiet gentle flight

serene is a windless lake, calm and cool

serene is a fish swimming in a school

serene is all of these because raw nature is the serene thing in the universe

Strange World

What if ..
green statue,
pink flies,
purple windows,
magenta bricks,
red clouds,
white satellites,
gray ladybug,
yellow sky,
blue people,
bumpy birds,
wet winds,
silky whispers,
sleepy bells,
dewy laughing,
shiny-smooth grass,
cold sun

Dont know what to name this yet,Sofiya Semenova

I was writing this when Matt wanted us to write something different.I don't know if I should continue this into a story or if it belongs in the trash.Any ideas?

I remember being a kid.It was a long time ago,when things were simple.It was in December that I was born.I remember it like it was yesterday.But yesterday I was fighting.I didn't even know what for.They told me. . .they told me it was for the greater good.I didn't know what the greater good was.But I didn't want to disappoint them.I had seen what happened if you did.Plus I was good.As a fighter,I mean.Nobody would cross paths with me.That was the core of my existance,and I excelled,and I was happy.This was all I had been training for.Halfway through that day,though,I fell.It was pretty bad.And as I hit the ground,I remember. . .I was thinking,"This is the end," But I didn't even know what happened,it was all a blur and a mess and I was slowly losing my mind.Everything slowed down,and the odd thing?I didn't feel anything.I mean,I thought I would have.Now as I look back I'm almost sure that I had felt some pain,but was too confused to remember.Or feel,for that matter.And I closed my eyes,everything slowed down in that one moment.
The next day,I awoke in someone's house,on a bed I didn't know,and I have to say,my head felt terrible.But I got up and walked forward anyway.

IDK any sugestions? short childrens Story

There once was an Enormous elephant and he was calling his mom to dinner. But she didn't say any thing. So Carl (name of the son) went looking for his mom Sally. Then Carl heard her sceam "HELP!" Carl rushed to were Sally was. She was surrounded by houndreds of small mice. There was silence for a while. Then Carl saw the king mouse. he was sitting on a rock scarfing dowm chips like there was no tommorow. Carl wanted to be heroic but he was afaid of mice. So he got an idea, he pretended to be a hawk and scared the mice away the king mouse took the longest to get away because he was so FAT. Carl came to his mom but she couldn't walk because she had a fracture in her leg. So Carl saw some garlic and put it under his mom and rolled her to safety. All the other elephants were happy and had plenty of gratitude toward Carl.

THE END?

No Title at This Time. Possibly "The Cab"-Kassie Maser

Someone asked me to post this, so here goes. It will either be for the anthology or the final open mic, but definetely for the open mic tomorrow.

Frank awoke with a start. Someone was knocking on his window, which meant he had fallen asleep on the job again. He got up at the same time every morning, but his body just couldn’t seem to agree with his alarm clock that it was time to wake up.

He looked up to see who was knocking. It was the woman. Why would he have expected anyone else?

She opened the door and slid into the seat. “Where to?” Frank asked groggily.

The woman gave him an exasperated look, but said “42^nd and Broadway.” Somehow, whenever the woman was in the cab, Frank could get where she needed to go without asking, but he preferred to do it the old fashioned way. It was more natural.

She had never told him here name, which was probably more for Frank’s benefit than that of her anonymity. He imagined her name was something like her face; a kind of beauty he wouldn’t quite be able to grasp. He could tell that she was strikingly beautiful, but when he looked right at her, he was so overcome by the apparent average-ness of her face that he forgot what she looked like the second she turned away. The only image Frank had to connect to the nameless woman was that of the billowy white dress she wore sliding into his cab every morning.

Frank yawned, and pulled out into the New York traffic. He tried not to think about who the woman might be visiting today. Instead, he thought about his grumbling stomach, reminding him that he had been in too much of a rush this morning to eat. He would have to get a donut while he waited.

Traffic had come to a complete stop, probably because of construction. Frank was annoyed until he heard the wail of sirens. He tried not to look back, but the woman had already gone to fetch whatever unlucky pedestrian or bike messenger had been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Dead on arrival.

Frank sighed and waited for the woman to return. Soon, she slid back into her seat, no obvious change in emotion since this morning. Or since he first met her, for that matter. He decided to take a different route. No need to see any broken glass or blood, and she wouldn’t mind paying a few extra bucks.

When Frank pulled up to the intersection, he said “Here we are,” but she had already left on her silent way to whichever building was her first stop. He circled the block until he found a miracle parking spot, then walked to the nearest donut shop, where he picked out the biggest, greasiest pasty he could find. He silently scolded himself as he took a bite out of his breakfast, and headed back to the cab.

She was already in the car when he got back. Her next stop was only a few blocks away, and they drove silently.

As always, he pulled over and waited for her. This time, he didn’t have a donut to distract him. He had never taken much interest in what she did, which was probably why she chose him. Some other sick person might have asked about everything, but he tried not to think about it.

Frank adjusted his mirror, and the picture of his son fell onto his lap. He sighed, and stuck the corner back into the frame. A couple of times, he recognized someplace he had been on the news. It made him sad, but he hadn’t cared to much until the day that actor died. His son had wanted to be an actor. Frank was so upset he stopped watching the news completely. He usually got home too late anyway.

The woman startled him when she got in the car. Usually, he barely noticed her, but this time, maybe because he was thinking about his son, he could feel the weight she added when she sat down.

Frank started driving. “Where next?” he asked, but she didn’t answer. Why did she pick today to not tell him?

Five minutes later he asked again. “Where are we going?”

She said, “Pull over.”

“Here?” Frank asked. She didn’t seem like she wanted to stop, there, but had to.

He was about to ask what was wrong when the pain gripped his chest. He felt like he was being torn in two.

“Pull over,” she said more sternly. “Frank?” He could barely hear her. “Frank, pull over!” she yelled, as she reached forward and yanked the steering wheel to the right. He wanted to scream, but he could barely open his mouth.

“I’m sorry,” she said gently as her light hand brushed his shoulder, and he slipped into darkness.

HELP! Katherine Cass

HELP! I have lost my pink hello kitty purse. It has money in it, and some 5 or seven dollors of pencils in it *nervous laugh*!!!
I am not sure if I left it in the library or lunch room.
Any help would be greatly apprechiated in it!

Kassie's PPT. Prompt

Last Thursday Kassie shared a powerpoint presentation as a writing prompt. Here is that prompt.

Writing Prompt at Facebook

Join our Facebook group and chime in on Katherine's writing challenge. Write a story and riff off these items:

• Flying Watermelons
• some tape
• a golf ball
  

The Comfort of Sound-Kassie Maser

The Comfort of Sound

Complete and total
Silence
Absolute calm
Not one note or rhythm in the air
To interrupt your thoughts
We want it
We crave it
We long for it
But we need
A sound
A whisper
A breath
A heartbeat
Something to remind us that
We're still alive

This is for the audio anthology, so any advice would be much appreciated. Thanks.

Phun with Photoshop #2

1. My brother

2. Me

Phun with Photoshop #1 (Katherine Cass)

Boo!

* evil phycic laugh *

Indexed

This morning I told you about Indexed, a weekday blog of interesting graphs and venn diagrams of sometimes odd relationships. It's a great read to mix into your daily rotation. It was recently voted onto Time Magazine's 1st Annual Blog Index.