Thursday, July 9, 2009

Skittles and Holy Water

Thanks to everyone that gave me writing advice yesterday! I still haven't decided what to do yet, but I feel less stressed.

Anyways, tomorrow is the big day! My 100th post contest winner will be announced! Let's look at the entries, shall we?

First, Carrie Harris:

The zombies were closing in on our safe house. Their incessant moans made me want to scream at them to shut up, even though I knew it wouldn't work and we were going to be dead in about fifteen minutes anyway. Shawn returned from his hurried rummage through our storage closet and held out his hand to me. My heart leapt with hope.

"You found ammo!"

"I found Skittles," he said, dropping a small bag of candy into my hand.

There was a flash of bright light, and suddenly a huge guy stood in the corner of the room. He was wearing a toga, and it kind of looked good on him.

"Did someone say Skittles?" he asked, in a booming voice that thankfully drowned out the moans for a second.

"Um... yeah," I replied.

"I love Skittles. Can I have some?"

"You can have them all if you can get us out of here," I said, holding the fruit-flavored bag of goodness up and making it dance before his eyes.

He scoffed. "I am Zeus. I can do anything!"

I would have laughed at that, except that he threw a lightning bolt out the window and killed all the zombies.

We're leaving the house now. I plan to stock up on Skittles for the next time the zombies attack.



Next, Anna Waggener:

Jazz pressed herself against the brick wall and kept her gaze on the opening between alley and street. The vampire advanced, a hungry look in his matte black eyes, a leer parting his thin lips.

Jazz considered screaming, but doubted that it would help. The back door of the dance club was cracked open, a young Justin Timberlake and Company crooning “Bye, Bye, Bye” through the speakers. The dancers inside squealed delight at the ‘90s throwback. They’d never hear her.

So instead Jazz squeezed her eyes shut and turned away, trying desperately to remember the words of the Hail Mary. Unfortunately, she wasn’t Catholic and doubted that the Virgin would help her without a down payment. She felt a whimper working its way up her throat.

There was a pause. “Zat,” the vampire began, his voice heavy with a French accent, “iz a nize sveater you are wearink.” Jazz stole a peek at him. He’d come to a stop just a few yards away, his white hands limp at his sides. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe he wasn’t a vampire at all. But you didn’t have canines like that and try to blame them on genetics unless you were a Labrador. Besides, he was wearing a cape.

“It’s silk,” Jazz said weakly. “And new. It’d be a shame to get blood stains all over it.”

The vampire frowned. “Yez,” he said at last. Then he drew aside his cape and pulled a wallet from his slacks. “Ezpecially if zey zet in. I’ll cheep een for a cab and dry cleanink.”

“Sweet of you.”

“Don’t mention eet. How much doez a zycle go for zese daiz?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Jazz said. “Two, three—”

The door of the club flew open, metal handle smacking into concrete. A skinny blond steadied himself on a nearby trashcan and pushed his glasses back onto his nose.

“Didn’t see the step there,” he gasped. “Jesus, Jazz, where’ve you been?”

The vampire shrank back, shielding his ears.

“Michael?” Jazz felt a flood of relief. She wasn’t sure why, since Michael wasn’t exactly a knight in shining anything, but misery loves company. “How’d you know I was back here?”

“Well I saw you leaving with creeper,” Michael said, jerking a thumb at the cringing vampire. “But then this guy came around handing out vials of holy water and I thought you’d think it was funny so I brought you one—oh for the love of marzipan.” The cork flew out of the proffered vial, splattering the alleyway with water. The vampire began to shriek and bat at his cloak, which was smoking. “Christ, dude, calm down” Michael said, which only made the shrieks crescendo. The vampire was hopping on one foot now, because his other shoe had touched the scattered droplets of holy water.

Jazz ran over and grabbed Michael’s forearm as the vampire took off down the alley. His leather shoes left the curb and he shot up into a cool autumn night, trailing smoke and a heartbroken cry of Louis Vuittonnnnnnnn!

Michael stared after him. “I thought that the devil wore Prada,” he said.

Jazz shrugged and headed back toward the welcome thud of boy-band pop. “And I thought that vampires were Romanian,” she said. “We can’t all live up to expectations.”



Oh, and I didn't forget about the picture! Here's the last one:



If anybody guesses this one, I will be seriously amazed and love them forever.

Until tomorrow...

2 comments:

sraasch said...

Oh OH the picture is in the Mediterranean!!

Considering that's the only body of water touching Italy, I have a pretty good shot...unless you wanted specific parts of the good ol' Med. In which case, I do this :P

Yay, 100th blog post!! So exciting!!

awwaggener said...

Dude, it looks like Thailand so I have no idea what to tell you lol

My advice, since I didn't comment on your last post, is to just go with what feels right. Books are like relationships, and sometimes they just don't work out. Other times you just need to take a break and go crazy for a while before slinking back in and saying sorry.

And sometimes, if you're lucky, you come across James McAvoy in book form, and then you just have to drop everything and run with it. You'll never forgive yourself otherwise. ;)