Fun with dialogue and absolutely no exposition.
"Dorkfish, oh dorkfish, where art thou, annoying dorkfish?"
"In here."
"So, you called?"
"Where were you?"
"I had plans, what are you, my boyfriend?"
"No. Do you have one?"
"No, what's this about? Oh, I see this is a set up."
"I have no idea what you mean."
"Of course not. Come on with it, then. What have you got to say?"
"Look, it's just you two are miserable without each other..."
"Okay, stop. This is none of your business."
"You are both my friends, this is my business."
"No, dude, it's really not."
"Oh shut up, you, you're here of your own accord."
"I wouldn't be if you'd learn to keep your mouth shut."
"Oh, you're still mad about that? I'm sorry okay? I don't know how many times I've said it, and I doubt you'll ever get over it, but I'm sorry. Don't look at me like that. I'm not afraid of your temper. I can stand up to your rage and match it. Mess with me. I'm not afraid of you."
"You should be."
"You won't hurt me, no matter how mad at me you are."
"I wouldn't be so sure of that."
"Okay guys, this isn't a pissing match."
"No, you know what? You're mad, I get that. You have every right to be mad. But guess what? I'm mad too. You made these proclamations of love and then you ripped my beating heart out of my chest and stomped on it. And I wasn't supposed to feel any pain at all, no anger, no hurt, nothing. I was supposed to feel nothing. I didn't feel nothing. It hurt like hell. And you want to know what's really sad? If you snap your fingers, I'll come running back to you. And I think you know it. I love you. I. Love. You. I fell hopelessly, irrevocably in love with you. I don't know when, or how, or why. But it happened. And I can't make it stop. Trust me, I've tried. I belong to you, heart, body, and soul. Want me or not, I'm yours. It's up to you what you do with knowledge. But whether you choose to acknowledge it, to ignore it, to do something about it, or file it away for later, it doesn't change it. I am yours, and I will always be. I love you. And you hurt me. You broke me. And it hurt. I'm really sorry for betraying your trust, and putting you in that situation. I was wrong. But damn it, you hurt me too."
"Rosalyn,,"
"No. Stop. Just stop. Do you have any idea what it feels like? I love you! I need you! I am going through one of the worst things in my life right now, and I have no one. No one. I feel like no one cares about me and I am facing this world on my own. I'm still coping with the pain you put me through, and then this happens. And if you ever cared about me at all, you'd put this stupid fight behind us and at least be my friend. You'd ask me how I am. You'd care! But you don't care do you? You never really did. Was it all a lie? Did you just want to get laid? You didn't have to lie to me. I would do anything for you. I think I might hate you. I love you, but I might hate you. I need you to save me, but you're part of what's destroying. And sometimes I wish I had never met you, but I can't imagine life without you, even though I'm basically living it now. I hate you. I hate you for making me love you. I hate you for hurting me. I hate you for leaving me all alone. I hate you! Why won't you just look at me?"
Tuesday, December 30, 2014
Monday, December 8, 2014
Day # 5: The fight
"Just stop, please," she begged him.
He spun around and shot her an incredulous look. "Why don't you stop?" He screamed at her.
"I'm not doing anything!" she cried.
"Of course not. It's all me. It's always me," he said. He stormed over to the table and picked up a picture frame, sneering at the contents before launching it her head. It hit the wall and shattered, barely missing her. She covered her head with her arms to protect herself from the raining glass.
"Please, Leif, just stop! I'm sorry, okay?" She said between sobs.
"Oh, you're sorry all right. What are you even complaining about? All you ever do is nag me," he screamed.
"You're such a carcinogenic," she hiccuped.
"And you're such a stupid bitch. Why don't you just get out?"
"You are not seriously kicking me out of my own home! I pay the rent, the utilities, buy the food. You won't even get a job! If you want to be rid of me so badly, there's the door, feel free to use it," she snapped, finally frustrated enough to take a stand.
"Of course you went there. You always do. I hate you, and I hope you die," he spat, stomping to the bedroom and slamming the door.
She sat on the floor for a few minutes more, trying to calm her breathing and stop the tears. She rarely cried, and when she did it was never for long. Her eyes stung and her hands were trembling. After a short while, she stood and went to retrieve the broom and waste basket. The shards of glass cut her fingers and she picked up the bigger pieces, but she didn't even notice the blood dripping from their tips. She had gone completely numb. She mechanically cleaned the room Leif had destroyed in his rage toward her. Righting everything that was askew and trashing everything he had broken. He had thrown several of their wedding pictures at her in his anger, and she gently removed the images and put them in a drawer for safe keeping. The television remotes, also used as projectiles, were smashed beyond repair. She slid the sofa back to where it belonged. She even did the dishes, not willing to risk anything that would set his temper off again. When all the evidence of their fight had been taken care of, she finally collapsed onto the couch and let herself fall into a restless slumber.
He spun around and shot her an incredulous look. "Why don't you stop?" He screamed at her.
"I'm not doing anything!" she cried.
"Of course not. It's all me. It's always me," he said. He stormed over to the table and picked up a picture frame, sneering at the contents before launching it her head. It hit the wall and shattered, barely missing her. She covered her head with her arms to protect herself from the raining glass.
"Please, Leif, just stop! I'm sorry, okay?" She said between sobs.
"Oh, you're sorry all right. What are you even complaining about? All you ever do is nag me," he screamed.
"You're such a carcinogenic," she hiccuped.
"And you're such a stupid bitch. Why don't you just get out?"
"You are not seriously kicking me out of my own home! I pay the rent, the utilities, buy the food. You won't even get a job! If you want to be rid of me so badly, there's the door, feel free to use it," she snapped, finally frustrated enough to take a stand.
"Of course you went there. You always do. I hate you, and I hope you die," he spat, stomping to the bedroom and slamming the door.
She sat on the floor for a few minutes more, trying to calm her breathing and stop the tears. She rarely cried, and when she did it was never for long. Her eyes stung and her hands were trembling. After a short while, she stood and went to retrieve the broom and waste basket. The shards of glass cut her fingers and she picked up the bigger pieces, but she didn't even notice the blood dripping from their tips. She had gone completely numb. She mechanically cleaned the room Leif had destroyed in his rage toward her. Righting everything that was askew and trashing everything he had broken. He had thrown several of their wedding pictures at her in his anger, and she gently removed the images and put them in a drawer for safe keeping. The television remotes, also used as projectiles, were smashed beyond repair. She slid the sofa back to where it belonged. She even did the dishes, not willing to risk anything that would set his temper off again. When all the evidence of their fight had been taken care of, she finally collapsed onto the couch and let herself fall into a restless slumber.
Sunday, December 7, 2014
Day # 4
Writing Prompt: Write about the boy/girl who went missing who no one noticed.
She walked away.
Leif had suggested they go out with friends. It would be fun, he said. It was never fun for her. So far, they were three hours in. Three hours of having to endure being ignored, listening to the boys play the "I'd sleep with that" game, and the air-head girls prattle on about make-up and other trivial conversation points. She had had enough. So she walked away.
It was easy to do. They were at an arcade. So far, it was the most amusing moment of the day. Mathias had no idea how to use the game machine, and his looks of confusion and frustration were comical. Of course, he wouldn't ask her for help. That would mean acknowledging her. No one had so much as glanced at her in three hours. So, when a bigger crowd passed behind her, she made her escape. She didn't even glance back at the group of her supposed friends. She simply walked out the door.
She didn't come home for three days.
No one noticed.
She walked away.
Leif had suggested they go out with friends. It would be fun, he said. It was never fun for her. So far, they were three hours in. Three hours of having to endure being ignored, listening to the boys play the "I'd sleep with that" game, and the air-head girls prattle on about make-up and other trivial conversation points. She had had enough. So she walked away.
It was easy to do. They were at an arcade. So far, it was the most amusing moment of the day. Mathias had no idea how to use the game machine, and his looks of confusion and frustration were comical. Of course, he wouldn't ask her for help. That would mean acknowledging her. No one had so much as glanced at her in three hours. So, when a bigger crowd passed behind her, she made her escape. She didn't even glance back at the group of her supposed friends. She simply walked out the door.
She didn't come home for three days.
No one noticed.
Saturday, December 6, 2014
Day # 3
Missing Scene
She watched him. It had been months since they had walked away from one another, since they had shared in so much as friendship. But every now and then they crossed paths. In Nod, in the waking world, they were within an arm's reach but neither would cross that gap. So, when the inevitable happened and they crossed paths, she watched him. She watched him, and he ignored her. It was their thing. Where once they had secret jokes, now they just had cold indifference. This time she had the urge to walk to him and lay her hand on his back. She just needed to touch him, to feel him beneath her fingertips. The need was so strong that her denial of it caused a harsh burning in her chest. Her palms itched, and her feet tried to move her of their own volition. She curled her hands into fists so tight her nails left crescents in her palms and forced herself to walk away.
That night when she got home she brewed her tea, refusing to step foot in Nod and chance seeing him there as well. She quietly dressed for bed. As soon as her head hit the pillow, the tears started. She cried openly until sleep finally claimed her and she fell into a restless slumber. She never saw his static figure, watching her from the land between here and Nod. She never felt him put his hand on her shoulder, offering silent support.
She never heard him say, "It hurts me too."
She watched him. It had been months since they had walked away from one another, since they had shared in so much as friendship. But every now and then they crossed paths. In Nod, in the waking world, they were within an arm's reach but neither would cross that gap. So, when the inevitable happened and they crossed paths, she watched him. She watched him, and he ignored her. It was their thing. Where once they had secret jokes, now they just had cold indifference. This time she had the urge to walk to him and lay her hand on his back. She just needed to touch him, to feel him beneath her fingertips. The need was so strong that her denial of it caused a harsh burning in her chest. Her palms itched, and her feet tried to move her of their own volition. She curled her hands into fists so tight her nails left crescents in her palms and forced herself to walk away.
That night when she got home she brewed her tea, refusing to step foot in Nod and chance seeing him there as well. She quietly dressed for bed. As soon as her head hit the pillow, the tears started. She cried openly until sleep finally claimed her and she fell into a restless slumber. She never saw his static figure, watching her from the land between here and Nod. She never felt him put his hand on her shoulder, offering silent support.
She never heard him say, "It hurts me too."
Friday, December 5, 2014
Day # 2
Prompt: What's your favorite scene from the story you're working on?
For the first time, he really saw her. She was standing at the riverbank, sadness and defeat coloring her features. They had won this battle, but she did not easily accept even the loss of one life. Especially not a child, and they had lost a few today. They had not gotten to the commotion in time to stop it entirely. Kids died today. Kids died because he was too busy in bed with the woman in front of him. He felt a pang of guilt and scanned her for any signs of anger. He saw none, only the bone deep sadness she always wore after a life had been lost. He knew she blamed herself, considered herself to be selfish. She was strong, self-sacrificing, and beautiful. There was not a selfish bone in her body. But because she thought of them for a moment, she would condemn herself. Forget that it was her that broke from his embrace and went running down to the riverbank at the first sign of trouble. She should have known sooner. She was never good enough.
He took a cautious step toward her, hearing the burnt grass crunch loudly under the toe of his boot. She didn't look up, so he took another and another until he was within her reach. Until he could touch her. Because he needed to touch her. To comfort her; maybe to comfort himself. He cupped her face with his hands, running calloused thumbs across her cheek bones. Her skin was so soft compared to his. She looked at him then, her eyes bright with unshed tears. It looked as if she wanted to say something, but instead her bottom lip just quivered. It was his undoing. He ducked his head and crashed his lips into hers. His were dry and cracked, hers were soft and supple. She tasted like cherries.
"I don't love you," he said pulling away and resting his forehead against hers.
She swallowed against the ache in her chest, "Okay," she replied.
"I don't feel anything for you at all," he stated, emotionless.
She jerked out of his embrace then to stare at him incredulously. "You're a liar," she hissed. She spun around and stormed away from him, back toward the house.
He watched her leave. When she was a sufficient distance away he whispered, "Maybe I am."
For the first time, he really saw her. She was standing at the riverbank, sadness and defeat coloring her features. They had won this battle, but she did not easily accept even the loss of one life. Especially not a child, and they had lost a few today. They had not gotten to the commotion in time to stop it entirely. Kids died today. Kids died because he was too busy in bed with the woman in front of him. He felt a pang of guilt and scanned her for any signs of anger. He saw none, only the bone deep sadness she always wore after a life had been lost. He knew she blamed herself, considered herself to be selfish. She was strong, self-sacrificing, and beautiful. There was not a selfish bone in her body. But because she thought of them for a moment, she would condemn herself. Forget that it was her that broke from his embrace and went running down to the riverbank at the first sign of trouble. She should have known sooner. She was never good enough.
He took a cautious step toward her, hearing the burnt grass crunch loudly under the toe of his boot. She didn't look up, so he took another and another until he was within her reach. Until he could touch her. Because he needed to touch her. To comfort her; maybe to comfort himself. He cupped her face with his hands, running calloused thumbs across her cheek bones. Her skin was so soft compared to his. She looked at him then, her eyes bright with unshed tears. It looked as if she wanted to say something, but instead her bottom lip just quivered. It was his undoing. He ducked his head and crashed his lips into hers. His were dry and cracked, hers were soft and supple. She tasted like cherries.
"I don't love you," he said pulling away and resting his forehead against hers.
She swallowed against the ache in her chest, "Okay," she replied.
"I don't feel anything for you at all," he stated, emotionless.
She jerked out of his embrace then to stare at him incredulously. "You're a liar," she hissed. She spun around and stormed away from him, back toward the house.
He watched her leave. When she was a sufficient distance away he whispered, "Maybe I am."
Thursday, December 4, 2014
Day # 1
Prompt: Describe your protagonist as she watches her love interest eating his favorite meal.
Rosalyn shifted uncomfortably in her seat. For all the time they had spent in Nod together, sitting here in this little Thai restaurant seemed almost awkward. No, that's not accurate. It was awkward. The silence hung heavily in the air. She blocked out all the sounds of the other patrons, and was focused on the steady rhythm of his heartbeat and the slow, lazy breaths he took. These were familiar sounds to her now, she'd been encountering them every night for years. But being able to hear them, to see him, with her physical body was a novelty she wasn't quite sure she'd ever become accustomed to. She was staring, of course she was, and he noticed too. His bright blue eyes lit with humor and mischief as he raised his fork to his mouth. The noodles left a small smearing of sauce on his lip, and he darted the tip of his tongue out to lap it up before chewing. It drove her insane, she longed to just dive right across the table and smash her lips into his. Her fingers tapped on the tabletop restlessly. As if he could read her mind--and was she really sure he couldn't--he smirked. "Is everything all right?" he asked. "Everything is fine, how's your Pad Thai?" Rosalyn's heart skipped a beat as he leveled his gaze on her. He always looked at her like she was the most amazing person in the world. A sea of butterflies erupted in her stomach, and her palms started to sweat. Unconsciously, she nervously bounced her leg under the table. He made her nervous, uncomfortable. She was uncomfortable, and with a quick glance, she noticed he was was too. "It's great," he said. "Look, I got to go." "Oh, okay. Nice seeing you then," she whispered. Great job. She thought to herself, as she watched him walk away. She noticed the burning, stabbing sensation in her heart. It wasn't the oniynox this time, though. This was how it felt as her heart broke.
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