Attempting NaNoWriMo for the first time this year, 2011. Wish me luck!
Dr. Tim’s Neurotic Rules of Ficly Life
[Disclaimer: This is not intended to be binding nor in any way an expectation of general members of Ficly, league members, family members or wearers of Member’s Only jackets]
1. Comment to Story posting ratio must exceed 5:1. Goal is 10:1. In other words, I write a story then find five others (at least) upon which to comment before writing another.
2. For every solo shot or sequel of my own material, I must write a sequel or prequel to the work of another author. If I’m going easy on myself, participating in a challenge also fulfills this requirement.
3. If someone comments on one of my stories, I go find one of theirs upon which to comment. It only seems fair, and I like to think it encourages commenting.
4. Awesomeness is the goal, always. Call me on it when I fail, please.
5. Clearly mark mature content and err on the side of caution.
6. Golden Rule remains in effect for all sequels, prequels, and comments.
Stories
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Big Game, Big Problem
“Coach, we can’t do it. You gotta put in Henders.” The crowd clamored uneasily as if to emphasize the young woman’s plea. The game had only a few minutes left, a few precious minutes, perhaps enough time for a few clutch three p...
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Quiet Voice in Shadow
“Interesting choice,” came a whispered commentary as she pulled the glorious gem from its resting place. A litany of swear words ran through her mind though she forced herself to stay silent, eyes forward as she pocketed the thing of beauty...
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All Left to Be Done
Randall waited, as he always did for the crowd to disperse. The doctor, full of fatigue and some unspoken heaviness, pronounced the moment of death, a speck of precision amidst the vast uncertainty of the hereafter. The nurses retreated, so much to do,...
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Interlude Before the Work at Hand
“What do you do for work again?” I’ve always hated it when my dates ask this. “I work for the State department.” The dumb ones don’t realize that’s the federal government, which is why I like the dumb ones. Amo...
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The Lost Summer
The next few months were a blur of denial, hair-brained attempts to put things right, and a few too many inebriated nights. I always think of that time as my lost summer. Since then I’ve refound those months, a few times actually, but that second...
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Greatest Swordsman Ever
Greatest Swordsman Ever. They’ll put that on my tombstone, Jerald thought to himself while his agent hovered around him. His assistant was getting the kakuobi to sit just right. The sounds of an eager crowd reverberating through the arena walls p...
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Second Chancers - Heavy Hangs the Head
Upon his heavy seat at the head of the great hall, Gunnar rested an uneasy head upon a massive fist. The place of honor had been his father’s and his grandfather’s before that. No one spoke of any leader before that, so great had been their...
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To Find a God
What is man that I dare keep from him the fate long ago set to by star and gods? This area, a holy den, this vale on the isle of jade and wood, once held its hand to make soft the drop of one from on high. Long set to a tomb of rock and weed, told of i...
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Perils of Being a Dreamer
In the dusty light of the attic, Harmon sat cross-legged, which he really shouldn’t have been doing on account of his knees. Tear after tear made their slow courses down his face, a face no longer young but not quite what one might call old. Tany...
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Broken Winter's Poem
Left in this garden Bereft of life ’neath this snow Lone, near dead myself Mine anger burns bright Against the season’s harsh chill Warmer than sorrow Woody cathedral Towering majestically Above what pains us so Here I leave my love For to ...
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Etudes of Summer
“The fog is long passed. Why must you fret so?” Mary Whitham asked her question from the doorway, not daring to cross the threshold. Barnaby didn’t look at her but ceased from his reading and covered his weary eyes with his hand, R...
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The Day of Swearing
Things went wrong the first time on what I refer to as the ‘Day of Swearing’. I’d made a half dozen or so brief trips back, just experimenting, just looking. They went fine. I was fine. Everything was fine until I thought of her. She ...
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Unsure, Sure, and That's Weird
I take his hand and try to smile. Who would have believed I’d wind up in a stalled elevator with him. I’ve seen him all over for what seems like years. It’s probably been six months or so. I’ve never been one for keeping track o...
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Thoughts on Life
“The eyes are the window to the soul, so they say. That’s why I keep mine shut so much. I’m not resting. I’m keeping my soul from getting drafty. Also, people whose souls live in houses with large windows, like that woman over t...
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Settling In Unsettled
With a school-girl squeal that embarrassed her even in her solitude, Hasina scrambled to fling the filth from her arm and wipe it from her face. In the dim light of the one remaining bulb in the overhead fixture she tried to identify the writhing bit o...
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The End of Lake Herman Road
At the end of Lake Herman road the salt marsh gave way to a water-bound repository for sea faring relics. The behemoths of metal and paint rested in stoic silence amidst the late afternoon fog, waiting for time to pass and fate to be meted out. Their e...
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Utopia: Robotech_Master
Robotech_Master I wanted to give this author a nod for two reasons. First, you’ve got to admire his plucky audacity. When most people mope about bemoaning the limited opportunities for cooperative stories, he goes out and makes it happen. He bold...
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Utopia: Elsha Hawk
Elsha Hawk I must confess I write this with an acrid mixture of reverence, awe, and envious resentment. However much I try, within the confines of my limited time, to exemplify the standards of the LoA, Elsha Hawk is quite frankly putting me to shame. ...
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What Really Matters
The club was a mess. Hired guns, entourage wannabe’s, and assorted cousins lay strewn about the dirty floor. Half the lights in the place were shot out, leaving only a few florescent lights to cast the scene in a sickly blue. Dino sat as far back...
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Dandelion Wine by Ray Bradbury
Childhood and mortality, held together by familial love and tradition. [Disclaimer: It’s been a long time since I read it, but these were the themes that stuck with me from the book, even if I’m a bit fuzzy on plot points now.]
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Break From the Monotony
The last thing on Violet’s mind was history, least of all the homogenized, corporation-influenced history Mr. Krumb was droning on about in front of the class. Everyone knew it was a joke, but what choice did they have. If the real government cou...
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Working Up to It
Let it build, man. Feel it. Micah was taking heavy strides across the street to follow Dino, who finally arrived with his usual entourage of flunkies in tow, into the club. The bouncer had spotted him and already looked nervous. Either he read the expr...
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Leaving Stowed Treasures Lie
A boy awakens. The dust of the attic is peacefully settled about him, and the sun no longer streams through the window. Pale light now sifts through, pitiably diffuse and weak. Worries start to nag at the boy, creeping from the shadows and reeking of a...
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Watching the Dogs
Though the green light winked at him, Micah did not move. He had not moved all night, nor had he taken the traffic signal’s advice the two previous nights. His lonely vigil, thus far inneffectual, kept him parked in a rented car outside ‘Ho...
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A Friendship Ruined
“Rae!” Violet came tearing around the corner, sneakers squeaking on the school’s perpetually waxed linoleum. “You are not going to…” Her jubilant announcement and quick pace came to a halt before a sullen face. The t...
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Math, Memories, and Hurting People
6 grand had been turned into 4 guns, 2 lbs of explosives, and 200 rounds of ammunition. 38 hours in town so he now had 62 hours before it would be too late. Based on his math, he could afford to wait out the glaring daylight hours in a cheap motel room...
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In the Present
“You trying to see my aura again?” Kyle asked with a smirk edging onto his face through the gradually slowing breaths. So, he’s in the present. “Maybe,” I answered, trying to be evasive. There wasn’t much point to it...
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Nothing Special About Revenge
Eyes glazed with a joy he hadn’t felt in years, Micah perused the selection. The trunk of Greasy Ed’s ‘77 Buick Skylark, primer orange and replete with rust, wasn’t the most glamorous of emporiums, but it had everything needed. ...
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No Protection For That
“Je t’oublierai.” “Que.” “My turn to teach, yours to learn.” “What’s that supposed to mean?” “It means, well, what’s given can’t always be taken back.” “I donR...
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Getting to the Root of All
“I need my money,” Micah intoned flatly as he shoved another bouncer over the bar. Benoit tried to push himself farther into the cushions of the booth, “I-it’s not that simple, big guy. You know I’d love to, but, well, you...