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Writer's Group 11: Chekhov's Gun
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Tenshi



Joined: 18 Apr 2008
Posts: 2594
Location: Star Stuff

PostPosted: Sat Apr 10, 2010 1:23 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

For me, yes.
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. Dubbed "Usagi" by AsA .
Keeper of the Siderean Swords

"If by chance some day you're not feeling well, and you should remember some silly thing I've said or done, and it brings back a smile to your face or a chuckle to your heart, then my purpose as your clown has been fulfilled."
Red Skelton
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Asa



Joined: 10 Apr 2008
Posts: 3538
Location: Grammar Police HQ. Watch your language, I'm armed with the NYTimes Style Book AND Strunk and White!

PostPosted: Mon Apr 12, 2010 8:47 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Talps, can you do me a favor? Can you post that story on www.fictionpress.com and give us the link? It's too long for me to read comfortably in the forum, and I want to read it.

Sorry to bother...
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Self-styled Forum Grandmother, because I hand out nicknames and hugs whether you want them or not. ^_^

Keeper of the Library and the Gateway to Haven

Nem: "It's the sort of face you just know is getting ready to poke you with something sharp."
BS: "...then insist you eat a brownie."
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Give me your hands if we be friends,
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Talps



Joined: 26 May 2009
Posts: 134
Location: Merrie olde Englande

PostPosted: Mon Apr 12, 2010 8:10 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Could you copy and paste it into Word (or whatever word processor your use)? I'm rather over-protective of my original fiction, Sorry. I don't mind posting it here since I wrote it specifically for the competition; I'm just a little more uncomfortable putting it somewhere where loads of people might see it.
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Talps = Splat reversed. Splat = Squee
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Asa



Joined: 10 Apr 2008
Posts: 3538
Location: Grammar Police HQ. Watch your language, I'm armed with the NYTimes Style Book AND Strunk and White!

PostPosted: Mon Apr 12, 2010 8:22 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

I guess. That's legit. Sorry to ask, then!
_________________
Self-styled Forum Grandmother, because I hand out nicknames and hugs whether you want them or not. ^_^

Keeper of the Library and the Gateway to Haven

Nem: "It's the sort of face you just know is getting ready to poke you with something sharp."
BS: "...then insist you eat a brownie."
__________________
If we shadows have offended,
Think but this and all is mended...
Give me your hands if we be friends,
And Robin shall restore amends.
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Tinu.



Joined: 23 Mar 2008
Posts: 3690
Location: The land of dreams

PostPosted: Sat Apr 17, 2010 11:39 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Ahh, Sorry this is a little late! ><;

Quote:
“Hey, everyone,” Stephen called, “we're coming into Jinotega. Get a look while you can!” Leaning my head against the window I could see the pass that was bringing us into the city. The mountains seemed to part like a curtain made of trees and clouds, revealing white buildings perched all along the slopes of the valley. Two church spires, towering over the rest of the buildings, were lost in the low-level clouds. Up front, Stephen was telling us about the orphanage. It had an orchard and gardens, rabbit and iguana huts, the dog kennels, and a pig sty. It sounded terribly self-sufficient. In front of me, Anne pushed down the bus window and stuck her head out. “It's so cool up here!” she said. And it was. Compared to the heat and humidity of Managua, it was heaven. “It stays at about 75 degrees year round.” Anne's dad told her. Well, I thought, perhaps it is heaven. Surrounded by tropical rainforest—or was it called a cloud forest?--seventy-five year-round, even in the dry season, and all the coffee and fresh fruit you wanted, who wouldn't want to live here? Suddenly, it started to rain, and the view was wiped out by a sheet of falling water. The bus slowed down and windows snapped up as water poured down. Well, there was a reason. It rained buckets every day starting around three in the afternoon. On the other hand, that could be nice. At work, you wouldn't need clocks or time sheets. Once it started raining you'd know it was time to go home. A few raindrops splattered my face. I looked up to see that Anne hadn't closed her window. “Can you close your window, please?” I asked. She looked back at me “I don't mind getting wet.” “Well I'm the one getting wet, not you.” I muttered. I guess she must have heard me, because after a moment, that final window clicked shut, and she sat with her shoulders hunched over—kind of like a turtle. It was impossible to see the orphanage as we pulled up to it, heaven only knows how the driver found the entrance. The missionary in charge of the orphanage ran up to the bus as soon as it stopped, and climbed aboard. The rain stopped as suddenly as it began, and she gave us a debriefing. “Hey, thanks for coming up here! I always enjoy having you guys, because you're one of the few groups that actually plays with the kids. I know there's a lot of work to be done up here, but if possible, I'd like you to do that while the kids are at school, and to play with them and love on them during their free time. They all speak English, so you shouldn't have too much of a problem. Just remember that they come from some really bad backgrounds . . .” We ended up getting the life stories of half the kids in the orphanage, and they were bad. Abusive homes, abandonment-- some had never even had any contact with people before they came here, and couldn't even speak Spanish. “If you'll come with me, I'll give a quick tour to those who are interested. Grab your bags and I'll show you your rooms on the way through.” The big pile of bags in the back dwindled as each person grabbed their things. My own pink backpack and regular suitcase were at the bottom of the pile. Everyone also grabbed an extra suitcase full of shoes we'd brought for the kids. We tromped through the mud to the big double doors, which were open. Sounds of laughter and children playing trickled out. Inside, the floor split into two separate open-walled hallways, looping around the sunken floor of a gymnasium. “Ok, the girls have the first door on the right side, the boys the first door on the left side. The high rafters of the gym echoed with singing. I saw something move and squinted. “Are those . . . birds?” I asked. Everyone turned to look. They were birds, flying in and out of open windows near the roof. “Well,” Tracy said, “We won't need an alarm clock.” Everyone laughed, and we moved to claim bunks in our rooms. “Oh, good news,” The missionary said, as we regathered, “You don't have to worry about scorpions this season, I haven't seen a single one yet.” “ Yet” Anne muttered. “Be sure to check your shoes before you put them on. And fold your blankets.” Jamie whispered. “She didn't say anything about tarantulas.” Amber said. I looked into the gym and saw that all the kids were watching us. “Hey,” I nudged Tracy, “Lets go play with the kids.” Several of the other group members trailed off after me. Despite what the missionary had said, the kids didn't speak much English. But they knew enough English and we knew enough Spanish to make ourselves understood. Soon, we had a pretty intense game of basketball going, despite everyone tripping over their Sunday clothes. Over the noise of the court, I heard the younger girls getting reprimanded for going barefoot. Good thing, the soil wasn't as clean here as it was at home. Everything seemed more sinister—but somehow more alive.

That first night we ate in the small cafeteria, with kids perched in our laps, sharing rice, white pineapple, and soup. “What is this stuff?” Jamie asked, poking at the murky soup. “It's cat.” Stephen said. Jaime looked at him with huge, watery eyes. “Really?” “Really. That's why you won't see any cats down here. They eat 'em.” He gave a wicked grin and scooped a chunk of meat into his mouth. Jamie began to cry, quietly. “It's not cat.” I told her, trying to stop the flood. “How do you know?” “I know.” I refused to be moved by her tears. “Then what is it?” “That, I don't know, and it's better not to ask. But it's not cat.” She sniffed, and stared at her soup for a moment before trading it out for a bowl of pineapple. “What'd you do that for?” Tracy hissed, giving Stephen a sharp jab in the ribs. “She loves cats.” “No one told me that.” He said, chewing on another piece of meat.

That night, Anne and Jaime curled their feet nervously under the blankets. The air stank of bug spray we'd used to kill some giant horseflies. Everything was bigger down here. “Relax,” Tracy told them, “You heard what she said. There aren't any scorpions this season.” The lights clicked off, and I could hear the sharp intake of fear. “There could still be tarantulas though.” Anne muttered. I rolled over under the permanently damp sheets and tried not to think about spiders.

We were woken up by the birds in the rafters, like something out of a fairytale. It was cool enough for coffee, even though it was the dead of August, and standing in the doorway of our room, I felt positively bewitched. We set to work early, since the kids were already gone. Our first job was painting over old cracks and illustrations on the walls. The younger girls went off to stare at the mountains. “Don't wander off,” Anne's dad bellowed “there are still landmines from the war up here!” Soon it was just me, Stephen, and Anne's dad. We got a whole wall done before the kids came home. One of the boys who understood English a bit better pulled me away from my paint roller, jabbering in Spanglish, eager to show me around. I followed, bent over from his pulling, trying to keep up with him. His energy far outstripped whatever height advantage I had. In five minutes I saw everything. The old gas stoves and convection ovens, a sick-looking parrot, who also happened to bite without discrimination; and outside, the playground and the orchard. We ended up at the bottom of a steep flight of steps cut into the hill, near the pig pens. There were rabbit hutches, and dog kennels, just like we'd been told. It was amazing to see. I wandered over and looked at the rabbits, smiling. Rabbits didn't change, even here. They were still fuzzy and incredibly innocent looking. “Olbie,” I said, looking at my escort. “if I come down here one day and find one of these missing, I'm going to be very upset.” A though occurred to me. “Olbie, did we already eat one of these?” He shook his head, and I was flooded with relief. I didn't want the death of a bunny on my hands. There was a hissing from a cage a little ways over, and I looked in to see several iguanas. “Olbie . . . have we eaten one of these?” He looked away.

Back in the dorm, I told the girls. “We ate what?


I'm not entirely sure it fits the topic, but I tried. ^^;
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Asa



Joined: 10 Apr 2008
Posts: 3538
Location: Grammar Police HQ. Watch your language, I'm armed with the NYTimes Style Book AND Strunk and White!

PostPosted: Sat Apr 17, 2010 11:35 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

I'm writing mine now! Post tonight or tomorrow.
_________________
Self-styled Forum Grandmother, because I hand out nicknames and hugs whether you want them or not. ^_^

Keeper of the Library and the Gateway to Haven

Nem: "It's the sort of face you just know is getting ready to poke you with something sharp."
BS: "...then insist you eat a brownie."
__________________
If we shadows have offended,
Think but this and all is mended...
Give me your hands if we be friends,
And Robin shall restore amends.
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Tenshi



Joined: 18 Apr 2008
Posts: 2594
Location: Star Stuff

PostPosted: Tue Apr 20, 2010 8:29 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

I may have to take a pass. My "Chekov's Gun" story has evolved into twenty-five pages, and is not yet finished. It's not really fit for a WG posting. >>;

I'm going to try and think up a MUCH briefer plot, but I'm having difficulty. So much time spent avoiding making this literary tool look like it was used, and now I'm having trouble doing so intentionally.
_________________
. Dubbed "Usagi" by AsA .
Keeper of the Siderean Swords

"If by chance some day you're not feeling well, and you should remember some silly thing I've said or done, and it brings back a smile to your face or a chuckle to your heart, then my purpose as your clown has been fulfilled."
Red Skelton
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Tinu.



Joined: 23 Mar 2008
Posts: 3690
Location: The land of dreams

PostPosted: Sat May 15, 2010 8:55 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

And one month later . . . .
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Talps



Joined: 26 May 2009
Posts: 134
Location: Merrie olde Englande

PostPosted: Sun May 16, 2010 6:57 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Tinu. wrote:
And one month later . . . .

. . . . Tinu and Talps are declared the winners and everyone throws a party in our honour! Laughing Eh? Eh?
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Dubbed reversquee.
Talps = Splat reversed. Splat = Squee
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Tinu.



Joined: 23 Mar 2008
Posts: 3690
Location: The land of dreams

PostPosted: Sun May 16, 2010 8:26 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Hahaha. I don't think it works that way. That'd be fun, though.
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