Saturday, October 18, 2014

GNG Sept Exercise 2014.


(Disproportionately large, heavy, flared, exhausted, aged)

                Nessie was huddled between the roots of the Marbled Oak at the edge of the Talbert estate.   The great tree, disproportionately large even there among the outgrowth of the arboreal giants on the estate grounds dwarfed everything around it.  Like a bug, burrowing, she accepted the cold reassurance of the root branches, swollen and bulbous and smothering over her head. Her back arched and bent, seeking the smallest, farthest space down inside the folds of the hungry wood.  Fear pressed in on her, heavy and hazed, dark and swarming with small, greedy denizens now focused upon her, the newest prey within the food chain.  Steel she made of her shoulders, stone of her face, steadying herself enough  to remember it was all in her mind.  Everything on the estate was alive.  Alive and greedy; ravenous for the smell of something weak and ready to surrender.  A small wind rushed overhead somewhere in the boughs of the oak, nowhere near the ground, and the massive tree lurched and heaved, its flared leaves puling against an aching desire like the blind, mindless scrabbling of a starving man reaching for an imagined feast.  Every move of any tiny thing was enough to send spirals of quivering blood-lust out through all the fauna and flora of the grounds.  Nessie, exhausted, concealed herself tightly between the massive fibrous feet of the oak.  She breathed and did not bother to wipe her tears.  The aged tree, swaying back and forth rhythmically though now there was nary even a breeze, groaned as wood does, agonized by its many years and, unlike most wood in other places, by its drive to dine.  She imagined her blood shrinking within her, pooling in her center like a gemstone, becoming obscure and unnoticeable, but the shadow of night and the heartless, disconnected moon, warned she would not pass through until morning.

(My story was inspired by the two pictures below, which my nephew posted to his FaceBook page. They are of a fire that is only a few miles from the town where he and his family live. Game exercise words: Round Metallic Fast Fun)

The forest glowed like multivalued amber.  The pine and fir trees stood with their backs straight and firm against the forceful wind whistling and shrieking as it passed through.  The air was so hot it was breathless, consuming every bit of oxygen it could encircle.  Flames roared as they chewed up almost everything in their wake.  They jumped from tree to tree, racing fast down the round trunks to the bushes and ground below.  And fast as lightning they raced up and up and up, far into the sky, as though searching for some unfounded target; dancing fun-like along the tree tops.  The forest had become nothing more than a feeding ground for the ravenous, insatiable flames, which continued growing larger and larger until nothing more could be seen.  As quickly as they roared in, the flames swept their way through, leaving nothing but charred metallic looking skeletons standing in the ash-laden forest floor. 
(Here is my GNG exercise: Setting is a character. My setting is Time and my words were: fleeting, constricting, fulfilling, encompassing, freeing.)

Three hours, twenty-nine minutes and fifteen, sixteen, seventeen seconds...

Tina counted slowly and deliberately in between deep breaths in an attempt to regulate the palpitations of her heart. 

Forty-six, forty-seven, forty-eight seconds...

She was positive it hadn't actually been three hours, twenty-nine minutes and fifty-eight, fifty-nine...make that three and a half hours later. It was that truth that freed her from the constricting fear that would otherwise be all encompassing. The torment of understanding that she was trapped in a six by six metal cube suspended hundreds of feet off the ground encased in a concrete column and anchored by a pair of steel cables that weren't designed to...

"No," Tina said aloud, attempting to transform that thought. She needed to make it as frivolous and as fleeting as the amount of time that she had spent counting the moments of solitude that she had been granted in this unexpected delay to her residence. 

Three hours, thirty-one minutes and fifty-one, fifty-two, fifty-three seconds... 

She counts slowly and deliberately i n between deep breaths to keep the panic at bay. Help was on its way, she reminded herself. The thought fulfilled her, bathed her in hope. A hope she clung to as she counted...

Three hours, thirty-four minutes and seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty...

Monday, September 15, 2014

A GNG exercise in Alliteration. Read Georgia Nutts

A GNG exercise in Alliteration. Read Georgia Nutts

Mia Maine

Wendy watched a west wind wave wildflowers wickedly while William watched Wendy with wanton wonderment.

Yvonne Renee Walker

Qubert quickened the quest after quiet Quincy queried. Quincy quarreled with Qubert.

Al Falaq

Uhurra's ululating undertone ultimately undermined us. Unless other units united usefully, with urgency, ubiquitous underlings urinated unanimously.

Jeani Brent

Miss Mary was mired in muck after meandering the mangroves during her misadventure to find mollusks for her main man Mark, who marched to the music of myriad musicians.

Dap Bates

Carl carved a concaved carcass for Carnival. Congested, with a cold, Carl carried the carcass carefully but it catapulted, causing a caravan catastrophe

Ana'Gia Wright

Wonderful writing willing wistful wanderings.

Wednesday, July 30, 2014

GNG Exercise 7/12/2014 A Meeting with my creation:Read Georgia

GNG Exercise 7/12/2014

Create a dialogue between you and the character in your book.


I turned and lulled about the spacious rooms of the Atlanta Made department store. Strolling among the locally designed furniture and craft, my eyes lit as I settled my gaze on a fabulously carved Tungsten egg.
"Deri!" Feeling assaulted at the sound of my own name, I fumbled the egg while holding my breath.
"Oh Lord!" I whispered with an nervous exhale as I tentatively placed the egg back upon it's cradle. At that moment, a sharp, uncomfortable poking on my back caused me to turn to face my irritation with more venom in my expression than I intended.
When my eyes fell upon the cheerful, but startling glare of Frankie's golden irises, I could feel my features soften as I recognized my creation.
"Hey!" Boisterous as ever, she continued to smile up at me. No more than five feet, she was dwarfed by my towering height.
"How you doing, Francois?" I smiled "What have you been up to lately?"
"I don't know?" She raised a inquisitive eyebrow and grinned impishly. "Shouldn't you know?"

Mia Maine

It couldn’t be helped. For a brief moment, sound evaporated. The world dissipated in liquid pools of hazy charcoal.
“Mia,” Victor calls, slightly amused by my preoccupation.
“Huh,” I ask distractedly.
At his pointed look, I shake loose the last dregs of a silly girlhood fantasy. Oh my! Did I really just do that? “I apologize, Mr. Jordan for my distraction,” I state blushing slightly.
“Victor,” he interrupts, reminding me of the informal atmosphere. “My grandmother warned me that they would get me into trouble, if I wasn’t careful.”
“I used to be a sucker for pretty eyes,” I confess. Victor’s eyes reminded me off a young man from my past. His were a warm sherry brown with flecks of gold. God had just been showing off the day he crafted Daniel’s eyes.
“Used to be?” Victor jokes.
“Yes, heartbreak will do that to you.” I answer solemnly.
“It sounds like a great story but one best left for another time.”
“Only if the first round is on you, otherwise, that story will remain encased in the past.”
“Down to business then, how long have you known Bernard?”
“Three years.”
“And the nature of your relationship is?”
“…is none of your concern, apparently.”
“What do you mean, apparently?”
“Apparently, Bernard decided not to share with you the nature of our relationship. I won’t speculate about his reasons for not clueing you in. Though, I am sure that you will.”
“I won’t speculate either. I’ll just ask him.”
“You’ll have to.”
“He was right. You don’t ruffle easily.”
I look at him and shrug.


I bumped into Ki'Korema among the shadowed fronds overhanging an upper path on the in skirt of Bohemie. The sun was descending behind some of the tall trees occluding the west end on the valley, which itself, bit by bit was falling into indigo shadow.
"What's going on?" I tossed her way, casually.
"Hey." Her stride is like someone on a mission. I heard her feet kicking through fern leaves a few steps before I called after her, a little to my own surprise; "Key." I turned to see her stop and face about to me. I noticed she was wearing around her neck the thin golden chain Do'ow had given her. "Hey," she offered again, maybe presuming she hadn't been heard the first time. Damn, I thought to myself, taken aback. She was easily only half my size, but looking into her face is like watching fire burning in an iron oven. She regarded me silently. I realized time was slowly inching forward and I still hadn't said anything else.
"Thanks for helping Do'ow last night," she said. "After the party." Something in her tone or posture lent an almost acrid taste to the final word of her statement.
"It’s okay…" I started, but she sliced softly right through my sentence, interjecting quietly:
"It was not okay. He was being shit."
I was trying to come up with different things I thought might be decent enough for me to say when she added, stonily, "You probably saved his life."
"From you," I ventured, clearing my throat first. Her stance softened just a bit. Her eyes, those dark stones from which the heat of the furnace behind her face emanated, slid sideways slowly, taking in the late evening glow encompassing the rich life down below. A slow breath left her, sailing off to join the banners of smoke snaking up from the shanty cooks throughout the valley.
"Probably from a whole bunch of people," she concluded. "How's Neess?" She still was looking out into the reaching warmth of the evening.

Zakiyyah Zai'mah

I make my way through the thick brush looking for the path to the wall where our work is taking place. With each footfall, squishy sounds emanate from beneath my feet and puncture the occasional silence which alternates with the cacophony of sounds from nocturnal creatures that guard the night.
Finally, I reach the road which winds upward towards the wall. Just ahead of me is Zainab. She has become a true leader for the warrior-women. She is our voice, our conscious and the central motivating factor in our drive for freedom from our watery prison.
Quietly I approach her and as I come closer to her, she swiftly turns around as if in preparation to defend herself from attack. Hastily, yet very succinctly, I offer the warrior-women greeting code that was established when we began this clandestine project,
“If your sister is your hairdresser…” Immediately she withdraws and responds with a smile, “Then you need no mirror.” Zainab then focuses and calls out, “Zakiyyah, is that you?”
“Yes, it is”, I happily respond -- grateful that she knows my name. We smile, turn and together, we continue walking toward the wall.