Okay, so I signed up for the Blogging from A to Z challenge again this year (#atozchallenge on twitter). This is basically a challenge where you write a post every day except Sundays during April, with each post titled sequentially from A to Z. This kicks off on April 1st, which is the only Sunday for which we'll write a post.
Last year, I wrote a short story series at my old blog here and
I'm wondering if I should do something similar this year, or if I
should write a series of unrelated fiction, or if I should do posts on
other themes, like say books, or blogs, or... I don't know.
The deal is, if I do write fiction, instead of waiting for alphabet prompts, or having to hunt for the right word, I've decided that I will just take the last word in the dictionary for each alphabet. Now I haven't actually picked up my Oxford to check what those words will be... so I suppose that will be part of the challenge!
Showing posts with label #REN3. Show all posts
Showing posts with label #REN3. Show all posts
Monday, 27 February 2012
Monday, 21 November 2011
Wonderfully generous writers
Over the year as I've participated in various blogfests, notably the Rachael Harrie's Third Writers' Platform Building Campaign, Rule of Three (#REN3 or Renaissance) and the A to Z blog challenge in April, through twitter and through my Triberr group (Writer Warriors!), I've come to know quite a few very awesome writer people on the interwebs. One thing that really astonishes me is how remarkably generous they are. Here's some of them:
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The first plug I'm going to make is somewhat personal. After all, my stories are on it. Katharina Gerlach has compiled a total of 176 stories from 81 different writers from the Third Writers' Platform Building Campaign (with our permissions, of course) and is offering it as a compilation titled Campaigner Challenges 2011.
To quote Cat in her own words,:
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I haven't personally read Raine's books yet, but I met her through Triberr and have I've been following her blog. This month she's introduced the Raine Gives Back programme where 5% of all her monthly book earnings will be given to a charity of the month. If you're interested in fantasy/romance stories consider getting her books, the Saraquel Trilogy.
---
Lisa Vooght from Flash Fiction posted about the With Love anthologies here.
After Dark is available on Smashwords and Amazon.
---
The next one isn't quite a book plug. I met Carol through the #amwritingparty hashtag on twitter. I don't think the hashtag is still going - the last time I check it seemed to be pretty dormant. Anyway, she is going on a medical mission to Haiti with Mission Haiti Medical and is raising funds from for the trip.
---
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The first plug I'm going to make is somewhat personal. After all, my stories are on it. Katharina Gerlach has compiled a total of 176 stories from 81 different writers from the Third Writers' Platform Building Campaign (with our permissions, of course) and is offering it as a compilation titled Campaigner Challenges 2011.
To quote Cat in her own words,:
I "stumbled over" an eleven year old boy who taught me how much can be achieved by doing small steps every day persistently. His name was Harry Moseley, and he passed away peacefully in his mother’s arms on Saturday 8 October 2011 at 11.10pm. The most amazing thing about Harry (in case you haven’t heard yet) is that he single handedly raised over £85,000 (that’s roughly 137,000 USD) for brain cancer research by fund-raising and selling hand-made bracelets. Awed by this boy who looked death in the eye but who was determined to enjoy every day, I decided to raise funds for people in need too.All proceeds from the sales of the book will go to Help Harry Help Others to fund more research on Brain Cancer. The ebook is currently available on Smashwords and Amazon at USD2.99 each.
---
I haven't personally read Raine's books yet, but I met her through Triberr and have I've been following her blog. This month she's introduced the Raine Gives Back programme where 5% of all her monthly book earnings will be given to a charity of the month. If you're interested in fantasy/romance stories consider getting her books, the Saraquel Trilogy.
---
Lisa Vooght from Flash Fiction posted about the With Love anthologies here.
There are currently three books on offer - With Love, Dawn of Indie Romance and After Dark. Li has offered some snippets on her blog to promote the latest book, After Dark, and they are good. Of course, with Li in the mix, it has to be good. :) It's currently on my to-buy list. Maybe it should be on yours too.The With Love Project was crafted by a small group of talented artists and authors, that donates to Doctors Without Borders. This project helps and supports Doctors Without Borders, donating enough money from the project to aide in providing vaccinations, support resources and AIDS medicine to those who couldn’t otherwise provide for themselves. The money is allocated for the various needs by Doctors Without Borders.
After Dark is available on Smashwords and Amazon.
---
The next one isn't quite a book plug. I met Carol through the #amwritingparty hashtag on twitter. I don't think the hashtag is still going - the last time I check it seemed to be pretty dormant. Anyway, she is going on a medical mission to Haiti with Mission Haiti Medical and is raising funds from for the trip.
As part of this mission, all serving are required to get immunizations and raise enough to cover our plane tickets and stay in the meager accommodations as well as money for RX meds and supplies for the mission. Additionally, we're expected to bring as much over-the-counter medicine as we can carry...if you can spare even a dollar, less than the cost of a cup of coffee, that's a box of children's vitamins from the dollar store--at minimum. Because we also have pharmaceutical connections and can purchase RX drugs and supplies at cost, so that $20 can support the medical needs of something like 60 Haitians for over a month.Do give if you can. I just did.
---
Wednesday, 9 November 2011
Competitions: #REN3 and Commonwealth
If you haven't already visited the Renaissance blog... go now!
The shortlist of 6 has been up since Sunday, and you have two more days to vote for your favourite story. The poll will close at 11.59PM GMT on Friday 11th November, and the winner of the blogfest will be announced on Monday 14th November!
I'm kind of sad that I didn't make the list, but all the stories were so awesome that it doesn't really matter. :)
---
So maybe I'm slow-ish, but I just found out that Commonwealth Writers is holding two competitions:
So head on over if you're eligible!
---
Nanowrimo progress since the last update: 0.
:(
The shortlist of 6 has been up since Sunday, and you have two more days to vote for your favourite story. The poll will close at 11.59PM GMT on Friday 11th November, and the winner of the blogfest will be announced on Monday 14th November!
I'm kind of sad that I didn't make the list, but all the stories were so awesome that it doesn't really matter. :)
---
So maybe I'm slow-ish, but I just found out that Commonwealth Writers is holding two competitions:
Commonwealth book prize
Awarded for best first book, this prize is open to writers who have had their first novel (full length work of fiction) published between 1 January and 31 December 2011. Publishers must enter the book on behalf of the author except in the case of self published authors from eligible regions who can make their own submission. Regional winners receive £2,500 and the overall winner receives £10,000.
Entry forms must be submitted no later than Friday 9 December 2011 (5pm GMT). Books must be received by the Prize Administrator no later than Friday 16 December 2011 (5pm GMT).
Commonwealth short story prize
Awarded for the best piece of unpublished short fiction (2000 – 5000 words). Submissions must be made by the author of the short story. Regional winners receive £1,000 and the overall winner receives £5,000.
Entry forms must be submitted no later than 30 November 2011 (5pm GMT).
So head on over if you're eligible!
---
Nanowrimo progress since the last update: 0.
:(
Wednesday, 26 October 2011
#REN3: Coach Thief (part 4)
Read:
Part one
Part two
Part three
Prompt: There is a new arrival in town
Wordcount: 590
---
“Look, Cousin Randall. We can easily explain ourselves,” Jean started.
“Why do we need to explain anything to him?” Jane interrupted, pulling away from him. “You’ve already told him enough as it is.”
“I barely said anything!”
“Oh,” she lowered her voice, “telling him we’re engaged isn’t enough, is it? Next you’ll be telling him my family name.”
Randall cleared his throat.
Jean glanced at him. “Come on, Jane. Be reasonable.”
“Reasonable! About what?”
“About the gun in his hand?”
“He won’t shoot. Will you, Randall?” she fluttered her eyelashes at him.
“Well. Now. Why don’t you tell me what this is all about?” Randall said, lowering his gun.
“We just got engaged a week ago,” Jean said, ignoring Jane’s glares. “And Bill’s a new hire.”
Randall tugged at his collar. “Well, congratulations again then, but how could Bill not know? Population about Roundeli is probably much less than our three hundred and thirty three in Renaissance and I’m sure an engagement in the Johnson family would be a pretty big do…”
“Ah, that’s because, we didn’t exactly…”
“Look, Cousin Randall, let’s be reasonable,” Jane glared at Jean. “I made a mistake. Jean here has cleared it up. Can’t we leave it at that?”
“We could, I suppose,” he said slowly. “But there seems to be a lot of confusion about here.”
“Oh, no one’s confused,” she said brightly. “The coach belongs to Jean, and I didn’t recognise his new coachman. Jean here, and the coachman, of course, will follow you back to your place, where I’m sure they will have a wonderful stay in all the comforts of Renaissance. I will have to be heading back to Assart. Have to return the horse, you know. Is that all settled?”
Jean shrugged.
“As settled as can be,” Randall finally said, throwing Jean a look that clearly meant ‘you had better tell me all about it when she is gone’.
“Wonderful. I’ll be on my way then.” Jane made her way to her horse, Jean trailing after her.
“Stay out of trouble,” Jean said wryly, as he gave her a peck on the cheek.
“You better keep your mouth shut,” Jane warned him as she mounted the horse.
“Will you be in Assart when I head back to Roundeli?” he asked.
“I don’t know yet. We will have to see the situation then. I will try to write to you as soon as I can settle things.”
The four of them turned as the pounding of hooves carried over the wind.
Randall squinted in the hot sun. He could make out two riders coming in with speed.
“Plenty of visitors to Renaissance today,” he commented.
Jane leaned forward, her mouth tight. “Time to run for it,” she hissed even as she spurred her horse and galloped away.
Jean watched as one of the riders peeled away, turning to follow Jane’s tracks.
The other rider rode up to the post office.
“What was Jane Heriot doing here?” he asked roughly.
“That wasn’t Jane Heriot. I think you were mistaken,” Jean said. He gripped the railing tightly to keep his hands from shaking.
“Don’t lie to me, boy. I can recognise that redhead from more than a hundred paces. Is her pa here?”
“Nope, no one called Heriot in this town, right Randall?”
Randall nodded. “Those kind stay over in Heriot’s Pass where they belong.”
The man rumbled with laughter. “Outlaws never stay where they belong, mister.”
Randall stared at Jean speculatively. The young man had a lot of explaining to do.
---
And we are done!
Part one
Part two
Part three
Prompt: There is a new arrival in town
Wordcount: 590
---
“Look, Cousin Randall. We can easily explain ourselves,” Jean started.
“Why do we need to explain anything to him?” Jane interrupted, pulling away from him. “You’ve already told him enough as it is.”
“I barely said anything!”
“Oh,” she lowered her voice, “telling him we’re engaged isn’t enough, is it? Next you’ll be telling him my family name.”
Randall cleared his throat.
Jean glanced at him. “Come on, Jane. Be reasonable.”
“Reasonable! About what?”
“About the gun in his hand?”
“He won’t shoot. Will you, Randall?” she fluttered her eyelashes at him.
“Well. Now. Why don’t you tell me what this is all about?” Randall said, lowering his gun.
“We just got engaged a week ago,” Jean said, ignoring Jane’s glares. “And Bill’s a new hire.”
Randall tugged at his collar. “Well, congratulations again then, but how could Bill not know? Population about Roundeli is probably much less than our three hundred and thirty three in Renaissance and I’m sure an engagement in the Johnson family would be a pretty big do…”
“Ah, that’s because, we didn’t exactly…”
“Look, Cousin Randall, let’s be reasonable,” Jane glared at Jean. “I made a mistake. Jean here has cleared it up. Can’t we leave it at that?”
“We could, I suppose,” he said slowly. “But there seems to be a lot of confusion about here.”
“Oh, no one’s confused,” she said brightly. “The coach belongs to Jean, and I didn’t recognise his new coachman. Jean here, and the coachman, of course, will follow you back to your place, where I’m sure they will have a wonderful stay in all the comforts of Renaissance. I will have to be heading back to Assart. Have to return the horse, you know. Is that all settled?”
Jean shrugged.
“As settled as can be,” Randall finally said, throwing Jean a look that clearly meant ‘you had better tell me all about it when she is gone’.
“Wonderful. I’ll be on my way then.” Jane made her way to her horse, Jean trailing after her.
“Stay out of trouble,” Jean said wryly, as he gave her a peck on the cheek.
“You better keep your mouth shut,” Jane warned him as she mounted the horse.
“Will you be in Assart when I head back to Roundeli?” he asked.
“I don’t know yet. We will have to see the situation then. I will try to write to you as soon as I can settle things.”
The four of them turned as the pounding of hooves carried over the wind.
Randall squinted in the hot sun. He could make out two riders coming in with speed.
“Plenty of visitors to Renaissance today,” he commented.
Jane leaned forward, her mouth tight. “Time to run for it,” she hissed even as she spurred her horse and galloped away.
Jean watched as one of the riders peeled away, turning to follow Jane’s tracks.
The other rider rode up to the post office.
“What was Jane Heriot doing here?” he asked roughly.
“That wasn’t Jane Heriot. I think you were mistaken,” Jean said. He gripped the railing tightly to keep his hands from shaking.
“Don’t lie to me, boy. I can recognise that redhead from more than a hundred paces. Is her pa here?”
“Nope, no one called Heriot in this town, right Randall?”
Randall nodded. “Those kind stay over in Heriot’s Pass where they belong.”
The man rumbled with laughter. “Outlaws never stay where they belong, mister.”
Randall stared at Jean speculatively. The young man had a lot of explaining to do.
---
And we are done!
Wednesday, 19 October 2011
#REN3: Coach Thief (part 3)
Read part one and part two.
Prompt: Relationships unravel or strengthen, a long-kept secret is revealed
Wordcount: 574
---
“Did I? I don’t seem to recall.”
“So you be a liar and a thief.”
“How dare you accuse me…”
“You don’t have problems accusing everyone else.”
“Let go of me, you… you…”
The verbal volley made Jean’s head spin. He was just glad no guns were making their appearance just yet, though he could see the man’s trigger finger twitching involuntarily.
“Hold on a minute here,” he interjected, stepping in between them. “What are you doing here, Jane? Were you following me?”
“Oh Jean, I saw someone drive off with the coach and I couldn’t find you, so I came after him.”
“Then why did you say it was yours?” the man growled. “Who are you? And I don’t like being lied to, woman.”
“I…”
“She’s my fiancee,” Jean said quickly, shooting a look at her.
“And who might you be?”
“I’m Jean Johnson. I’m here to visit with my cousin Randall.”
“That the truth now,” he replied, rubbing at his stubble. Jean wasn’t sure if it was a question or a statement, so he just nodded.
“Well, then. This is a pickle.”
“What is?”
“I always thought Cousin Jean was a girl.”
Jean laughed. “My mother was French.”
“And that makes it alright?”
“No, that makes it normal - in some faraway places, like the Roundeli Mountains.” Jean had a sneaky suspicion that this would turn out to be his cousin. The man looked less tense now, starting to smile genially at Jane. “And you are…”
“Cousin Randall.”
“Ah. Glad to have finally met you, Cousin.”
“Likewise.”
The two men shook hands.
“Done with your letter writing, Bill? You’ll have to take the coach round to Cousin Randall’s place,” Jean addressed his coachman.
“All done, sir.” Bill purchased a couple of stamps and left the letter with the postmaster.
Noticing Jane’s pinched face, Jean hung back as Randall and Bill headed toward the door.
“Cousin Randall, you two go on ahead. I just need to have a talk with Jane for a little while.”
Not waiting for a reply, Jean turned on his fiancee. “What’s wrong now?” he hissed.
“I thought you didn’t want to announce our engagement just yet!” she said frantically. “Did you forget?”
“Forget? No - he looked like the family-man type and I didn’t know who he was. And it’s the truth anyway. You are going to be my wife, aren’t you?”
She smiled coyly angling her face up for a kiss. He kissed her on the nose.
“What if your mother finds out?” she whispered.
He put his arms around her waist. “We’ll steal the letter before it reaches her. Don’t worry, Jane. We’ll sort it out somehow. Practically though, what do we do now?”
“I’ve got to get back to Assart before Bob throws a fit.”
Jean looked out the window. “You had better leave soon if you want to make it before sundown.”
“Yes. But I’ll miss you.”
“You can ride up any day you want, missy.”
She giggled. Hand in hand, they headed out the door.
Randall was leaning against the coach inspecting his gun, the brim of his hat pulled low over his eyes.
“I do have a question, Cousin Jean.”
“What’s that, Cousin Randall?”
“If this here woman’s your fiancee,” he tilted the barrel carelessly at Jane. “How come this here coachman of yours doesn’t know that you’re engaged? And why would she not know your own coachman?”
Jean held her close, protectively.
---
Tune in next Wednesday/Thursday for the grand finale! :)
Edit: Read part four here.
Prompt: Relationships unravel or strengthen, a long-kept secret is revealed
Wordcount: 574
---
“Did I? I don’t seem to recall.”
“So you be a liar and a thief.”
“How dare you accuse me…”
“You don’t have problems accusing everyone else.”
“Let go of me, you… you…”
The verbal volley made Jean’s head spin. He was just glad no guns were making their appearance just yet, though he could see the man’s trigger finger twitching involuntarily.
“Hold on a minute here,” he interjected, stepping in between them. “What are you doing here, Jane? Were you following me?”
“Oh Jean, I saw someone drive off with the coach and I couldn’t find you, so I came after him.”
“Then why did you say it was yours?” the man growled. “Who are you? And I don’t like being lied to, woman.”
“I…”
“She’s my fiancee,” Jean said quickly, shooting a look at her.
“And who might you be?”
“I’m Jean Johnson. I’m here to visit with my cousin Randall.”
“That the truth now,” he replied, rubbing at his stubble. Jean wasn’t sure if it was a question or a statement, so he just nodded.
“Well, then. This is a pickle.”
“What is?”
“I always thought Cousin Jean was a girl.”
Jean laughed. “My mother was French.”
“And that makes it alright?”
“No, that makes it normal - in some faraway places, like the Roundeli Mountains.” Jean had a sneaky suspicion that this would turn out to be his cousin. The man looked less tense now, starting to smile genially at Jane. “And you are…”
“Cousin Randall.”
“Ah. Glad to have finally met you, Cousin.”
“Likewise.”
The two men shook hands.
“Done with your letter writing, Bill? You’ll have to take the coach round to Cousin Randall’s place,” Jean addressed his coachman.
“All done, sir.” Bill purchased a couple of stamps and left the letter with the postmaster.
Noticing Jane’s pinched face, Jean hung back as Randall and Bill headed toward the door.
“Cousin Randall, you two go on ahead. I just need to have a talk with Jane for a little while.”
Not waiting for a reply, Jean turned on his fiancee. “What’s wrong now?” he hissed.
“I thought you didn’t want to announce our engagement just yet!” she said frantically. “Did you forget?”
“Forget? No - he looked like the family-man type and I didn’t know who he was. And it’s the truth anyway. You are going to be my wife, aren’t you?”
She smiled coyly angling her face up for a kiss. He kissed her on the nose.
“What if your mother finds out?” she whispered.
He put his arms around her waist. “We’ll steal the letter before it reaches her. Don’t worry, Jane. We’ll sort it out somehow. Practically though, what do we do now?”
“I’ve got to get back to Assart before Bob throws a fit.”
Jean looked out the window. “You had better leave soon if you want to make it before sundown.”
“Yes. But I’ll miss you.”
“You can ride up any day you want, missy.”
She giggled. Hand in hand, they headed out the door.
Randall was leaning against the coach inspecting his gun, the brim of his hat pulled low over his eyes.
“I do have a question, Cousin Jean.”
“What’s that, Cousin Randall?”
“If this here woman’s your fiancee,” he tilted the barrel carelessly at Jane. “How come this here coachman of yours doesn’t know that you’re engaged? And why would she not know your own coachman?”
Jean held her close, protectively.
---
Tune in next Wednesday/Thursday for the grand finale! :)
Edit: Read part four here.
Wednesday, 12 October 2011
#REN3: Coach Thief (part 2)
Read part one.
Prompt: A character lies to another on an important matter, One of the characters is revealed to be not who she is
Wordcount: 549
---
Jane glared at the man, pulling her hand away from his grip. She turned on her heel and stalked up and down the porch, shooting furious thoughts at him. As his words filtered through her brain, she stopped mid-step.
“I’m sorry, but uh, actually,” she stammered.
“What is it?” His eyes flickered irritably in her direction.
“Are… are you Cousin Randall?”
She could feel the blush starting from the base of her neck, the warmth blossoming up to her high cheekbones, as he nodded.
“You be Cousin Jean?” he asked wryly.
“I… yes. Sorry.”
“So this here unknown man,” he nodded at the door, “stole this here fancy coach from you from somewhere in Assart?”
She nodded back at him, wondering if she would have enough time to pull this off, even if her face hadn’t already given her away. He was rubbing at his chin now, deep in thought. She watched as his hand started caressing the butt of his gun.
“Where did you get it?”
“Sorry? Get what?”
“The coach. Not something you would regularly be driving round about here, would it? I’d imagine that’s why this here man was trying to get his fingers on it.”
“It’s just painted - not even gilded,” she said in a rush, trying to calm her wobbly voice. She was sure he suspected something the way he was staring hard-eyed. “The old pa did it up with a crest and everything - reminder of the past generations. Said he wanted to ride in style. I told him it wasn’t worth the expense and the effort.”
“Well then, let’s go find this thief to dispense some justice.”
Jane watched as he strode toward the door, arms slightly akimbo, his right hand brushing the holster on his hip. She took a step backward, waiting for him to enter the post office, when he turned again.
“Coming along?”
“Yes. Yes, of course.” She shrugged and followed him into the sunlit room.
The man behind the counter looked up at them then gave Jane a nod.
“Morning, ma’am. Howdy, Randall. That your cousin?”
Randall nodded. “Yep. And by her account your customer here seems to have stolen her coach.”
The sound of scratching stopped as the coachman looked up from the letter he was writing.
“What do you have to say for yourself?” the postmaster asked.
“The coach belongs to my boss,” he said calmly, resuming his writing.
Randall rubbed at his stubble again before speaking slowly. “You say the lady lies?”
“Didn’t say that. She could be mistaken.”
With Randall’s concentration fixed on the coachman, Jane slowly backed towards the door. As the tips of her fingers brushed against the door, it suddenly swung open sending her sprawling on the ground.
“Bill, I see you got the coach here in one piece. Oh dear, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to knock you over,” a familiar voice said. “Why, Jane! What are you doing in Renaissance?” The young man reached down, hand outstretched to help her up.
“Oh, hello, Jean. Just passing through. I think I have to go now,” she blurted in a spurt, scrambling to her feet.
“Hold on a moment!” Randall strode across the room, grabbing her arm. “Didn’t you say you were Cousin Jean?”
She broke out in cold sweat.
---
Read part three.
Prompt: A character lies to another on an important matter, One of the characters is revealed to be not who she is
Wordcount: 549
---
Jane glared at the man, pulling her hand away from his grip. She turned on her heel and stalked up and down the porch, shooting furious thoughts at him. As his words filtered through her brain, she stopped mid-step.
“I’m sorry, but uh, actually,” she stammered.
“What is it?” His eyes flickered irritably in her direction.
“Are… are you Cousin Randall?”
She could feel the blush starting from the base of her neck, the warmth blossoming up to her high cheekbones, as he nodded.
“You be Cousin Jean?” he asked wryly.
“I… yes. Sorry.”
“So this here unknown man,” he nodded at the door, “stole this here fancy coach from you from somewhere in Assart?”
She nodded back at him, wondering if she would have enough time to pull this off, even if her face hadn’t already given her away. He was rubbing at his chin now, deep in thought. She watched as his hand started caressing the butt of his gun.
“Where did you get it?”
“Sorry? Get what?”
“The coach. Not something you would regularly be driving round about here, would it? I’d imagine that’s why this here man was trying to get his fingers on it.”
“It’s just painted - not even gilded,” she said in a rush, trying to calm her wobbly voice. She was sure he suspected something the way he was staring hard-eyed. “The old pa did it up with a crest and everything - reminder of the past generations. Said he wanted to ride in style. I told him it wasn’t worth the expense and the effort.”
“Well then, let’s go find this thief to dispense some justice.”
Jane watched as he strode toward the door, arms slightly akimbo, his right hand brushing the holster on his hip. She took a step backward, waiting for him to enter the post office, when he turned again.
“Coming along?”
“Yes. Yes, of course.” She shrugged and followed him into the sunlit room.
The man behind the counter looked up at them then gave Jane a nod.
“Morning, ma’am. Howdy, Randall. That your cousin?”
Randall nodded. “Yep. And by her account your customer here seems to have stolen her coach.”
The sound of scratching stopped as the coachman looked up from the letter he was writing.
“What do you have to say for yourself?” the postmaster asked.
“The coach belongs to my boss,” he said calmly, resuming his writing.
Randall rubbed at his stubble again before speaking slowly. “You say the lady lies?”
“Didn’t say that. She could be mistaken.”
With Randall’s concentration fixed on the coachman, Jane slowly backed towards the door. As the tips of her fingers brushed against the door, it suddenly swung open sending her sprawling on the ground.
“Bill, I see you got the coach here in one piece. Oh dear, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to knock you over,” a familiar voice said. “Why, Jane! What are you doing in Renaissance?” The young man reached down, hand outstretched to help her up.
“Oh, hello, Jean. Just passing through. I think I have to go now,” she blurted in a spurt, scrambling to her feet.
“Hold on a moment!” Randall strode across the room, grabbing her arm. “Didn’t you say you were Cousin Jean?”
She broke out in cold sweat.
---
Read part three.
Wednesday, 5 October 2011
#REN3: Coach Thief
Prompt: There is an argument.
Wordcount: 434
Setting: Western (late 1900s)
Randall squinted in the hot sun. He could make out dust clouds in the distance and hoped that it was the herald of Cousin Jean’s arrival. He rubbed at his prickly chin, wondering if he should have taken the time to shave that morning, seeing that the coach was late anyway. Well, it was too late for that now. She would have to take him as he was.
The black and gold coach stopped outside the post office.
“Howdy, stranger,” Randall greeted the coachman. “Welcome to Renaissance. You be carrying Cousin Jean?”
The man looked him up and down. “No,” he replied gruffly, turning away, his eyes stripping the small outpost town.
“Ah, well. Come in through Targe, did you?”
“No.” He threw the reins down to Randall who caught them deftly.
“Kris or Villein then?”
“What’s it to you?”
Randall shrugged. “See any other travellers coming out your way?”
The coachman ignored him and entered the building. Randall tied the reins to a nearby post and went back to surveying the horizon.
The new dust cloud that appeared fifteen minutes later didn’t look big enough to be another coach. Randall shaded his eyes with his hand, trying to get a better look. The woman who came galloping in at full speed was furious - Randall could tell by the set of her mouth, the lines of her eyebrows. He was fairly sure the shade of her face was more to do with the blistering heat and dust than her current state of emotions.
“Why the hell did you steal my coach?” she yelled as she dismounted.
Randall looked around. “I…”
“Don’t deny it! And you dare stand here, waiting for me to catch up with you? What the hell is wrong with you?” She had him pressed against the wall of the post office, pounding his chest with each word.
“But Ma’am, twasn’t me! The man, he…”
“It was you, Mr. Fuzzy Face! Now own up. I had to borrow this lousy horse that I have to take all the way back to Assart!”
“Look here, woman, you can’t simply go around accusing people you don’t know of stealing your coach.” He could feel the heat rising to his ears.
“Don’t woman me. I recognise your shoddy face and dusty clothes. Stupid country men!”
He caught her hand mid-punch, making her wince.
“I’ll woman you if I want to!” he growled. “The man from off the coach just walked into this here building. Now why don’t you go in and yell at him, then? Now leave me alone. I’m waiting for my cousin.”
---
Read part two.
Read part three.
Wordcount: 434
Setting: Western (late 1900s)
Randall squinted in the hot sun. He could make out dust clouds in the distance and hoped that it was the herald of Cousin Jean’s arrival. He rubbed at his prickly chin, wondering if he should have taken the time to shave that morning, seeing that the coach was late anyway. Well, it was too late for that now. She would have to take him as he was.
The black and gold coach stopped outside the post office.
“Howdy, stranger,” Randall greeted the coachman. “Welcome to Renaissance. You be carrying Cousin Jean?”
The man looked him up and down. “No,” he replied gruffly, turning away, his eyes stripping the small outpost town.
“Ah, well. Come in through Targe, did you?”
“No.” He threw the reins down to Randall who caught them deftly.
“Kris or Villein then?”
“What’s it to you?”
Randall shrugged. “See any other travellers coming out your way?”
The coachman ignored him and entered the building. Randall tied the reins to a nearby post and went back to surveying the horizon.
The new dust cloud that appeared fifteen minutes later didn’t look big enough to be another coach. Randall shaded his eyes with his hand, trying to get a better look. The woman who came galloping in at full speed was furious - Randall could tell by the set of her mouth, the lines of her eyebrows. He was fairly sure the shade of her face was more to do with the blistering heat and dust than her current state of emotions.
“Why the hell did you steal my coach?” she yelled as she dismounted.
Randall looked around. “I…”
“Don’t deny it! And you dare stand here, waiting for me to catch up with you? What the hell is wrong with you?” She had him pressed against the wall of the post office, pounding his chest with each word.
“But Ma’am, twasn’t me! The man, he…”
“It was you, Mr. Fuzzy Face! Now own up. I had to borrow this lousy horse that I have to take all the way back to Assart!”
“Look here, woman, you can’t simply go around accusing people you don’t know of stealing your coach.” He could feel the heat rising to his ears.
“Don’t woman me. I recognise your shoddy face and dusty clothes. Stupid country men!”
He caught her hand mid-punch, making her wince.
“I’ll woman you if I want to!” he growled. “The man from off the coach just walked into this here building. Now why don’t you go in and yell at him, then? Now leave me alone. I’m waiting for my cousin.”
---
Read part two.
Read part three.
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