Monday February 6th, 2012

The exercise:

We're starting the week off with: the score.

Though I had fully intended on doing other things as well, I ended up spending most of today finishing off The Hunger Games. I, uh, got a little caught up.

But now that that's out of the way, I can actually spend tomorrow writing or editing! Maybe.

Mine:

Moving down the crowded sidewalk, pocketing watches, rings, wallets as I go, I'm always aware of my nearest escape route. A back alley. A department store with a second or third entrance on other streets. A traffic light about to change.

Always scout ahead. It's the only way to continue playing the game.

And I keep track of the score constantly. Five to nothing, six, seven. Pockets bulging. Eight to nothing, nine -

"Hey!"

Game over. Final score: nine to one.

Now it's time to run.

10 Comments:

Greg said...

It's always good when a book is so engrossing that you choose to read it over doing other things! I also like it when a book's good enough to read over and over again without getting boring, becoming more like an old friend with a familiar story.
I haven't forgotten your email, I just need to open it at work where I've got Word!
I really like the energy of your piece today, I can almost feel the thrill of the game!

The score
Alphonse peered closely at the page. Surely... surely that couldn't be right?
Someone coughed. Oh right, the audience were waiting. And... he scanned in front of him, yes, they had the 'instrument'.
He raised his baton, sighed inwardly at the score, and pointed to the cannoneer. The cannon fired and the music began, somewhat muffled by the crash of the falling roof.

writebite said...

The Score

Deep in the alleyways of the city was another world from what you or I would know. Just one or two streets back from the tourist strip where teenagers cruised in their T-birds alongside bikini soaked beaches and five star hotels there was a seething mass of humanity’s darker side which emerged from the shadows after sundown. It was safer for them then. That’s when they would skulk around doorways, watching, waiting for the right man to come along. It was a regular and frequent thing for these kids who came to the city, attracted to the bright lights like moths to a flame and, just like those unsuspecting moths, their demise would follow once they tasted and hooked into the darker side of the hellish brew these places offered. 
Eventually it got so bad they lost their identity along with their dreams. Then they lived day to day, hour to hour, looking for next score to fill their addiction.

Krystin Scott said...

Basil Woodall sat at the overly large desk in the quiet of her isolated and dimly lit cabin. A large nearly blank page was set out in front of her. She stared at it, all the while holding her pencil between her fingers and anxiously tapping the eraser end on the desktop.

This score would be her biggest yet, but it would take careful planning and hours of practice. A plan of this magnitude would have many key players and each must have their timing perfected down to the very second if they were to pull it off.

The payoff would be huge, well worth the risk if they were successful. They would be, she would see to it, her plans always worked, that’s why they called her the mastermind.

An idea crossed her mind. She smiled to her self and began to write the final page, a stave for the euphonium.

*An interesting Protag profile this one has, haven't been able to get the lil' broccoli out of my mind this morning. Curious....

Cathryn Leigh said...

@Mrac – oh my a pick pocket?

@Greg – I think they missed the part where you’re not actually supposed to have a cannonball inside the cannon... *giggles*

@Krystin – He he, what a different way to take the prompt, inspired by a Protag profile and story. Intriguing. :}

And now... my turn... Hm... Sarah could try to teach Vervelleans a sport. Or I could make one up. Or *giggles* I can delve into my Holy Horse characters and see what my Prince from another land thinks of Gym class *Snickers* He needs a name change though. I have an awful tendency to reuse main character names.... We’ll call him M for now. :}

The Score
Tennis had to be the most ridiculous sport Prince M had ever played. Who decided that a score of zero should be called love and that one point should equal fifteen.

“Game!”

He opponent grinned as yet another ball seemed to go through Prince M’s tennis racket. He glared at the object before turning on the charm.

“Good game,” he shook hands with the boy.

“Yeah, good game,” the boy snorted in return, clearly feeling superior.

M just smiled and put his racket away as he scanned the crowd. How long had he been at this horse forsaken school? Four months? An eternity? He hadn’t spotted a single girl who met his Aunt’s cirteria. Sailing past the tittering girls who didn’t seem to care he’d just lost a tennis match, M made his way into the locker room. A quick change and he was back to class, trying not to snooze at the boring bits in history.

At last a ring of the bell let out a flood of kids. As always there was someone trying to talk to him, or get a ride in his car. At this point, he’d almost wished The Professor hadn’t gotten him a red convertible. The things was more hassle than it was worth. He didn’t car about a single kid here. None of them was the girl he was supposed to find. This quest was getting impossible and his score on it dismal.

Forget fifteen-love, he felt as though he’d been to thirty schools in the past four years looking for a girl he wasn’t sure he could find here. What had possessed his Aunt to send him to another world to look for a bride eluded him. Not a single girl he’d met could dance, ride a horse, embroider, excel in a strategy came, and have proper manners. Even the Professor had confessed he only knew of one woman in all of North America that might fit the bill, but she was his age.

Groaning with frustration, M parked the car in from of the Professors log cabin in the woods. He was ready to tell his Aunt to forget it. He was tossing his oats to the horses and quitting the Quest.

Grondzilla said...

“Whatchadoin?”

Charlie looked at Lilly who sat scrunched up in the corner of the big battered couch, surrounded by a veritable sea of crumpled bits of paper. On her lap she was propping up a large sketch pad and idly twirling a large black pencil in her fingers as she gazed off into space.

Charlie waited for a moment or two figuring that she might be in the middle of a thought and gave her some space. The pencil continued to twirl and Charlie noted that her mouth was moving without any apparent vocal accompaniment. Her right hand came up and started tracing invisible symbols in the air.

Charlie tried again.

“Um...Lil? Whatchadoin?”

The far away gaze was retracted and she came back to herself with an almost visible thud. She pushed herself back into the chair and and gave a little shake of the head. The right hand came up and rubbed across her face in a long, exaggerated gesture. She shot him a look after a reluctant glance off into that far away place.

“Oh hey Chuck.”

She gestured vaguely.

“I was writing the score.”

Charlie didn't get it.

“The score?”

“Yah!” She exclaimed, both arms now raised in front of her and gesturing in what seemed like meaningful ways. “I was writing the Soundtrack for my life!”

Marc said...

Greg - ah, I didn't realize you only had Word at work. I could have sent it in another format!

Poor conductor, only doing what the score tells him to. Also, I suppose, poor audience :P

Writebite - great, gritty writing. Could be the start of a detective story.

Krystin - haha, I hope you share this with Basil :)

Cathryn - scoring in tennis is one of the most ridiculous things in sport. It's absolutely silly.

So, um, good choice :)

GZ - being a big fan of the idea of having my own soundtrack playing in the background pretty much always, I think it's safe to say that Lilly has won me over :)

writebite said...

marc, cheers! hmmm...

Aholiab said...

Marc - thoroughly enjoyed reading the Hunger Games trilogy to my family. Now we're looking forward to the movie! I enjoyed your pickpocket. I'm always afraid I'm a little OC when I keep score of stuff like that, but maybe I'm normal.

Writebrite - I liked your "bikini soaked beaches". Clever!



The Score

James opened his eyes, looked at the alarm clock on his bedside table, and groaned. He should have been up hours ago, but obviously he had needed the sleep. Closing his eyes, he began enumerating his aches and pains, just as a little old lady might inventory her favorite knick-knacks on her curio stand. No broken bones - that was a good thing. Several abrasions, a few dozen bruises, a dull headache - he could live with those. He spent another few moments in bed savoring the score - one day sober.

Cathryn Leigh said...

@Marc It was a toss between Tennis and American Football, knowing more about the former than the latters, with the addage that zero is caled love in tennis, it was a no brainer. Especially when Prince M is looking for his brind, not expecting love *snicekrs* *sigh* if I ever decide to un shelve that particular stroy and revise it, adding in the scene I just wrote... Anyway I'm babbling. Habit of the tired mind. :}

Marc said...

Writebite - do it. Dooooo it :D

Aholiab - once I finished reading the first book I finally allowed myself to watch the movie trailer. Looks different but still good.

Great details in your scene, very nicely done.

Cathryn - babbling when tired is a nightly occurrence in my house :)