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New Writers' Choice Exercise Selections Page 5

Member Exercises

New Writers' Choice Exercise Selections

PAGE FIVE


  • Exercise 26: August 3, 1999: "Evil Thinkers 01: Evil for Good":
    Shared Dreams
    By Tresa Newton
  • Exercise 27: August 10, 1999: "Evil Thinkers 02: Good for Evil":
    Spittin' Image
    By Renee Holland
  • Exercise 28: August 24, 1999: "Forbidden Love":
    Wichita Moon
    By Rob Addison
  • CURRENT EXERCISEChoice Selection to be Announced! It could be You!

Exercise Assignment

August 3,1999 Exercise #26: "Evil Thinkers 01: Evil for Good":

Let's see just how good you(or your character) can be, by being evil. Confused? Well, try not to leave us confused by your submission for this exercise.

Think of one of the most EVIL things you can do to another person (or people). Now write a story describing how this was done for a GOOD reason. Make it a reason in which the good that is done by this action outweighs the evil of it.

Shared Dreams
by Tresa Newton

PG-Language & Violence

The dream would not let him go. His limbs thrashed on the bed, tangling the sheet around him. A low guttural moan escaped from between his clenched teeth as he tried desperately to wake. Blake didn't want to see the perverted fantasies his brother had for this girl. She was blonde and pretty in a pale delicate sort of way. She smiled and her lips moved, but Blake couldn't hear the words. She began ringing up the six-pack of beer on the counter. Blake noticed how elegant her hands were . . .long and delicate fingers. There was a glint of silver as they moved over the keys, a ring with some sort of design on it. Her hands looked out of place in this setting. He could imagine them gliding and dancing over a set of ivories. Then she looked up and began speaking again. Her smile faltered and Blake saw a second of terror there, before her beautiful creamy skin and pale blonde hair erupted into a nightmarish landscape of blood and bone. The force of the blast threw her backward and she disappeared behind the counter.

Blake sat up, the moan escalating to a horrified bleat of revulsion. Not again. It can't be happening again. He had been witness to his twin's sick, twisted dreams many times in the past, but only once before had the outcome been death. This strange ability to share in each other's dreams had plagued him since their birth, twenty-three years ago. When Jake's dreams won out, Blake always awakened feeling filthy and sick inside. He stumbled out of bed, kicking the sheet off into the floor. He went into the bathroom and threw up.

****

Jake lay on his back, sweat glistening on his face. The sticky result of his dream was cooling on his belly. How'd ya like that one, little brother? He grinned at the thought of how fuckin' horrified Blake would be with that sweet little dream haunting him all day. He should be grateful to Jake for providing him with some entertainment. It was a far sight better than the sappy boring shit Blake dreamed. Jake hated it when Blake's dreams won out, which wasn't as often any more. Bunch of crap about those pencil pushers he worked with and virtuous little dreams about that redheaded bitch Blake had the hots for. He knew Blake had seen the dreams he'd had before he'd done the old guy. Old fart shouldn't have stood out in his yard and stared at him like he was scum every time he drove by. After the news of the murder had gotten out, Jake had watched Blake carefully to see if he would sound an alarm. But Blaky hadn't done anything other than avoid Jake as much as he could. Nothin' to worry about. His brother was just a terrified wimp.

Now he was having these dreams about that girl at the Quick-Check. The pressure inside him was building. He knew it was inevitable. What a thrill it would be to see that sweet little thing dissolve into a bloody mess.

****

"Tech support. Blake speaking."

"Well I need some support." The lively female voice on the other end brightened Blake's heart. He conjured up her small cat's face with its sparkling green eyes that always seemed to be laughing. He wished he could just hang up and drive right over. How he needed to talk to her.

"How about coming over tonight? I've got a great movie rented, wine chilling, and dinner planned." Angela was taking cooking lessons at the local college and frequently commissioned him to sample her homework.

"Okay. Sounds good."

"Well I realize it's not something the papers would put on the front page, but you don't have to sound so glum about it. Hey, Blake. What's the matter?"

"No, no. It really sounds great. I'm just tired. Didn't get much sleep last night."

Images from Jake's dream troubled Blake throughout the rest of the day. He and Angela had gotten close in the past months. Their relationship was blossoming into something permanent, he hoped, even though neither had yet used the word 'love'. As he climbed into his car and turned onto her street, he decided tonight he would tell her everything. Let her know what kind of crazy brother he had and if he was honest about it, what a coward he'd been not to have done something about it before now. Maybe she could help him think what to do.

****

Jake smiled at the girl as she took his money for the cigarettes. In his mind, he saw her as she was in his dream. His smile widened. The girl looked at him curiously.

"Have a nice evening and come back soon," she said tentatively.

"Oh don't you worry about that now," he said as he stuck his change in his pocket. Whistling, he winked and went out the door, bell jangling behind him.

****

Comfortably ensconced on Angela's sofa, after a well-prepared fare of Greek cuisine, Blake took a deep breath and Angela's hand, and began.

"You remember that blind guy that was murdered a few months ago over on Sheryl Drive?"

Angela, surprised by the solemn tone in his voice, nodded and said, "Yeah. They never found out who shot him, did they?"

"No. But I think I know who did it." Angela put down her glass of wine and stared at him in shock. Here it comes, he thought. She's either going to think I'm crazy or this whole thing's going to scare her away forever. "I have a twin brother and I think he did it."

"Blake, why would you think so?" Although seemingly surprised at the existence of a twin, She wasn't edging away from him or inviting him to leave so he continued.

"Ever since we were children, we've had this weird ability to see each other's dreams. When we were kids, it was fun. Sort of a secret communication thing, you know. We used to be real close, only Jake was always getting into trouble and trying to get me in it too. Not really mean, jus sort of mischievous. I called him my evil twin. But as we got older, he really started doing crazy things and his dreams got more bizarre, until it started scaring me. He seemed to get a kick out of knowing that I saw these perverted dreams he was having." He sighed and looked over at her. "I guess he hated me all along. I loved him. He was my brother and I assumed he felt the same for me, but . . . ."

Angela's look of shock had given way to something else. Her eyes were full of compassion and it looked like love. "Go on," she said softly.

"Well last night, I saw him kill again. A girl I don't know. Looked like she worked in a convenience store or something. I've got to do something, Angie. I can't let it happen again."

"Why didn't you go to the police after the last time?" she asked cautiously.

"And say what? I saw it in a dream?" He snorted bitterly. "They'd peg me as just another lunatic. They wouldn't give me the time of day. I've got to find some evidence and quick. Last time, he dreamed the murder for about a week before he actually did it. But it might not take as long this time. And another thing, if I dream about it and he sees it, he'll know I'm up to something.

"What did this girl look like?"

"She is blonde and kind of thin. A real creamy complexion like yours. About your age too. I noticed her hands. They were long and slender, like a pianist's hands."

Angela frowned, thinking. "Was there anything else about her? Something unique or out of the ordinary?"

He started to shake his head, but then remembered the ring. "She did have a ring . . . a silver ring. It was that filagree stuff with some sort of design woven into it."

Angela caught her breath. "Blake, could it have been a letter? Like a fancy script?"

He strained to remember. He could see the ring in his mind. And yes, woven into the filagree was a letter. His face cleared. "A 'J'. It was a 'J' with those old-timey curlicues."

"My God, Blake. I know her. She is a pianist. She's a music major at the college I go to. She's putting herself through school with that job at night."

"Do you think you could warn her? Get her to not go to work for a few days until I can figure out what to do?"

She'll probably think I'm crazy, but I'll try." Her green eyes melted his blue ones as she earnestly stared into his face. She went to him then and for a time there was nothing else in the world that mattered but their own universe of two.

****

Jake awoke with a scowl. Blaky's dreams were getting steamy, but there was something different about this one. There seemed to be a new closeness and a feeling like a secret between him and the girl. Could Blake have told her about him? Were they planning something? Well, he'd just have to see about that.

****

Angela had only been home from school a few minutes when she heard the knock on the door. She had convinced Judy that there was real danger. Although skeptical, she had agreed to be sick for the next few days. Angela felt confident Blake could figure something out and she rushed to the door expecting it would be he. He stood there, his shaggy blonde hair uncombed. His clothes looked slept in and his eyes . . . his eyes were cold and somehow vacant.

"Blake, I told her everything. She's agreed to stay away from work for a few days." But there was no relieved smile. There was no reaction at all. "Blake? What's wrong?"

Jake stared at her. Their betrayal burning in his mind. So they thought they could stop him, did they? Hot anger flamed up in him. He swiftly pushed her inside and kicked the door shut. She was looking at him now, recognition and understanding dawning in her frightened eyes.

"You're Jake." It wasn't a question. She bolted and ran for the back door.

He had no difficulty catching her. He knocked her down on the kitchen floor and growled, "So you saved her, did you? Well maybe you're the one I want anyway. But I think I'll have a little fun first." He ripped her blouse with one movement. The door burst open and Blake stood there in the doorway, wild-eyed and panting. Fear for Angela and rage contorted his features. Fear that he was too late and rage that his twin would try and take the only thing that mattered in this world to him.

"Nooooo!" he bellowed as he charged across the living room. Jake let go of Angela and pulled out his knife. Blake didn't care. He felt as if he could kill Jake with his bare hands. The momentum of his charge knocked Jake to the floor, but he managed to slash Blake's hand with the knife. Blake didn't even feel it. His hands were around Jake's throat and he squeezed with all his strength. Angela looked on with horror. They were identical. Two furious faces, two sets of blazing blue eyes, two beautiful bodies. If they hadn't had on different clothes, she wouldn't have been sure which was Blake. She had never seen this insane fury in his face before. Blake was squeezing with all his strength, his concentration focused on Jake's bulging eyes. He didn't see Jake's knife hand come up and lunged at his heart with a desperate strength.

Angela's paralysis was broken and she ran for her gun which she kept in her night stand drawer. When she returned to the kitchen, blood was pouring from Blake's chest and he was slumped on top of Jake, his murderous grip loosened. Jake rolled his brother off and raised his knife again. He looked up at Angela. In the second before she pulled the trigger, she saw bewilderment in his tortured face

****

Blake floated for a time in the soft darkness. It was so peaceful. Then he felt something bump him. Was someone with him? Idly, he wondered if it was Jake. He couldn't see anything but a pinprick of light far away. It was a beautiful thing and he wanted to go to it. But something had a grasp on what he perceived to be his hand. It was pulling him down. He could feel his brother's presence now. Blake peered down and saw that he was a great distance above what appeared to be a sea of eyes turned up to them. Tortured eyes, desperate eyes full of malice. His human mind struggled to affix proper logical bodies to them. Yes. Now he could see shadowy figures moving around down there. They were beginning to rise toward him and Jake. "Jake, let me go! Come on, we've got to go to the light." But Jake would not let go. And now he could see hands reaching to grasp them and drag them down. He wrestled with Jake, panic clutching at his mind.

"You're going with me, Little brother. You were going to kill me. Remember?" Jake rasped. "So we'll be in hell together, coz you're getting bad like me." A hard edged laugh came from Jake. Then in a sad childish voice he added, "Do you know how hard it was watching your dreams and knowing I could never be like you? It was torture, man."

It had never occurred to Blake that his dreams were as hard for Jake, as his were for him. But the rest of what Jake had said made no sense to him. "Come on. They're getting closer." Blake tried to pull them upward, but his brother's weight was unbelievable. A shadowy hand clamped around Jake's leg and he gasped. Blake kicked it loose and for a moment they were propelled upward. But then suddenly, Jake was surrounded by the figures, their greedy hands locked onto him. He wailed and clenched Blake's hand tighter. Blake began kicking at the hoard, trying to get them away from his twin. Suddenly, Jake let go of his hand and screamed in anguish.

"Go on, Blake! Go back. You don't belong here." The rush of fear and lonely despair in Jake's soul burst over Blake shooting him high into the tunnel.

"Jake!" he screamed.

"Go back, Blake, while you still can." Jake's wail was horrible as the hands dragged him downward. "I did love you, but I hated you too. You were everything I couldn't be. Go back. I release you." His last words were almost lost in the frenzied howling of the fiends as he was pulled amidst them.

Blake floated again, unsure and confused. His twin was lost and he was helpless to save him. Then he heard a familiar beloved voice. Why was she crying?

"Blake. Come back to me. Please don't leave me. I love you, you know." His soul was drawn to hers as surely as a hummingbird is to a flower. When he opened his eyes, she was there on the floor cradling his head in her lap, tears dripping onto his face. He saw Jake then a few feet away. As the paramedics burst into the room, Blake thought the gentle smile on his twin's dead face was one of the most beautiful things he had ever seen. It seemed that Jake had shared another dream with him, a dream of being unselfish and good and in death, it had been realized at last.

© Tresa Newton 1999

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Exercise Assignment

August 10,1999 Exercise #27: "Evil Thinkers 02: Good FOR EVIL":

This is a twist on the last exercise. Let's see just how evil you (or your character) can be--by being good.

Think of something really GOOD you can do to, or for another person (or people). Now write a story describing how this was done for an EVIL reason. Make it a reason in which the evil that is done by this action outweighs the good of it. This time you are doing something good for and evil reason. Breathe life into your characters and make us really care about their situation--whatever you decide it to be.

SPITTIN’ IMAGE
By
Renee Holland

PG-Language


Julie’s eyes swept the room one last time. Other than the suitcases that stood in the doorway, nothing of hers remained. She picked up the heart shaped picture frame that sat on the dresser. The picture had been taken about five years ago, before Laura had left home for Cal State Fresno. The girls stood with their arms around each other, grinning at the camera. Although both girls were tall and thin, Laura-with the advantage of five years and high heels-seemed to tower over her little sister. Other than their height, they looked nearly identical: coarse black hair that frizzed in the late summer humidity, small perfect noses, and dark brown eyes.

Julie sighed. She loved her sister; they’d always gotten along well despite their personality differences. Laura, as the older sister, had always been in charge, the “responsible one” who had saved Julie from a number of childhood disasters. In turn, Julie had provided Laura with a bit of excitement, and the wide-eyed worship that can only come from a younger sister.

At eighteen, Julie was no longer a child, yet Laura had come to her rescue once again. Now it was time for Julie to leave Laura’s house, and go it alone. Julie carefully set the picture back on the dresser. Against it, she propped the note that she’d written to her sister.

From outside, came the crunch of tires on the gravel driveway-the taxi was here, it was time to go. “See ya, sis.” Julie picked up her suitcase, and walked out the door.

***

At seventeen, Julie had fled her parent’s tyrannical home. She’d boarded a bus to Los Angeles looking for glamour and excitement, and instead, found herself waiting on tables at Denny’s, making barely enough to keep her in the dingy studio apartment she called home. Laura had visited her there, spied the roach motels shoved behind the bathroom hamper and the near-empty box of condoms in the nightstand, and insisted that Julie return with her to her home in Mt. Barton.

The pine trees and clean air were a refreshing change, and Laura and her husband Michael did their best to show Julie the joys of small town living. But back yard barbecues and hayrides quickly lost their charm.

“Damn, Laura, I feel like I’m living in Stepford. I swear if one more person tells me that I’m the spittin’ image of my dear, sweet sister, I’ll puke.”

“Oh, Julie, everyone’s just trying to be nice, I don’t understand how that could bother you.”

“I don’t know. Guess I’m just getting antsy. Pouring coffee at Denny’s on Figueroa was more exciting than anything I’ve done in this hick town. Maybe coming here wasn’t such a great idea.”

Laura studied her sister’s face. “Tell you what, Julie. There’s a big dance club in Porter; it’s only about an hour away. We can go there this weekend. I’ll call Michael’s brother; I’ve been wanting you to meet him anyway.”

“I didn’t know that Michael had a brother.”

“Actually, Sam is Michael’s half brother. He’s a tad on the wild side, but I think you’ll like him.”

Julie laughed “Wild? Yeah, right. What does he do? Drive without a seat belt?”

Sam did drive without a seat belt, but California law required him to wear a helmet as he cut through the mountain roads on his Harley Davidson Sportster. Underneath the helmet, he had a mass of wavy brown hair, pine green eyes, and pale thin lips. Julie couldn’t help herself “Why, Sam, you’re just the spittin’ image of your dear sweet brother.”

Sam’s lips parted into a devilish grin, “Yeah, but looks can be deceiving.”

Julie and Sam soon became fast friends, drinking buddies, and Saturday night lovers. Together they’d hop on Sam’s Harley, and ride until the sun went down. More often then not, they’d end up at a dimly lit biker bar, where the prevailing uniform was black leather and tattoos. After hours of shooting pool and chugalugging countless bottles of Bud, they’d stumble to the nearest motel.

One morning in early April, Laura found Julie in the bathroom, hugging the toilet bowl. “Julie, don’t tell me your hung over again. You’ve got to stop drinking so much. The way you’ve been carrying on, you might as well be back in L.A.”

Julie looked up at her sister “I haven’t had anything to drink for weeks, Laura.” Dread clouded her eyes, “I think I’m pregnant.”

Laura stepped back, her stomach churning. “Oh, Julie, no! How...?”

“Laura, please. I don’t need any of your friggin’ lectures now!”

“Honey, I’m sorry. I...I don’t know what to say.” She opened a vanity drawer, and rummaged through it, finally producing a home pregnancy test. “Here, let’s find out for sure. I’d bought a supply of these before...before....” Laura shook her head, stopping the flow of words; her mouth faded to a thin line. Silently, she handed the box to Julie and walked out of the bathroom.

The next morning, Julie found Laura sitting at the breakfast table, humming to herself as she thumbed through a dictionary-sized book entitled THE FIRST NINE MONTHS. “Laura, what are you doing?”

Laura jumped up from her chair. “Oh, Julie, you’re up! How about a nice hot cup of herbal tea?”

Julie shook her head, glaring at Laura, “I don’t want any tea. What are you doing with that book?”

“What do you mean? You know I’m going to help you every step of the way. I’m reading about vitamins, and....”

“Laura. I’m not having the baby. I’m only eighteen for God’s sake. You know damn well I’m not ready to play house yet. I’ve already made an appointment at the free clinic; I’m having an abortion.”

Laura’s face grew pale “How could you? Julie, how could you?” She dropped back onto the kitchen chair. “What did Sam say?”

“Sam?” Julie made a sound that was supposed to be a laugh. “He called me this morning, said he got a job offer in Canada; he’s taking off next week. I didn’t bother telling him.” She scowled at Laura. “Don’t look so surprised, you know there was nothing between us, we just had a few laughs together.”

Laura said nothing, but turned to stare out the window.

“Laura, I’m sorry. I know how you feel about abortions, but I’m just not mother material; not now-maybe not ever.”

Laura didn’t move. Her voice was almost a whisper, “Julie, don’t answer me now. Just think about this.” She took a deep breath, then let the words tumble out. “Let Michael and me adopt your baby; you know how much we want a child. Please do this for me; do it for your baby.” Without so much as a glance toward Julie, Laura stood up and walked out of the room.

Seven months later, Laura and Michael stood in the lobby of Mt. Barton Community Hospital preparing to leave with their baby girl, Sara Anne. The charge nurse smiled approvingly, “That’s one tough little cookie you’ve got there. Those two extra weeks here sure fattened her up; I’m so happy she’s doing well.”

Laura smiled down at Sara. She was beautiful. She had her father’s green eyes, and her mother’s black hair. Laura wiped a tear from her cheek. “I’ve never been so happy. I....” She was interrupted by a deep voice behind her.

“Michael! Laura! So glad I caught you here.”

Laura and Michael turned to see Sam swaggering up to them, a big grin on his face. Laura hugged Sara close to her chest. “What is it Sam? What are you doing here?” Sara began to whimper.

Sam sneered at Laura, “Now, is that anyway to greet your brother-in-law?”

Michael stepped in front of Laura, and glared at Sam, his eyes cold and hard. “Cut the brother crap, Sam. Slither back to that slimy biker bar I found you in.” He took another step forward. “You got your money. Leave. Now.”

Sam held his hands up “Whoa, Mikey...chill. Just wanted to see the kid.” He peered over Michael’s shoulder and laughed, “Cute! Didn’t do so bad, eh?” He hitched up his Levi’s, turned and took a few steps. “Hey, by the way, if you ever decide your little girl needs a brother, just give me a call.” He laughed again, “Second one’s half price.”


© Renee Holland 1999

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Exercise Assignment

August 24,1999 Exercise #28: "Forbidden Love":

OK this one is for you romance writers. I've heard your complaints of not enough opportunity for romance in the exercises.

I want you to tell us a tale of romance--not just any romance, but a romance involving forbidden love.

Why might a love be forbidden?
- Social class/norms
- Religious beliefs
- May/December romance
- Professional ethics
- Family feud
- Adultery
- Any number of reasons, use your imagination and you tell us

Now forbidden love ALWAYS has a price to pay, it is usually discovered, and the lovers either flaunt their affair or try desperately to hide it. Forbidden love can even be a "one-sided affair". Whatever, there will be secrecy, denial, obstacles (interior & exterior), and a price to pay. Sometimes forbidden love wins out in the end. Often, it does not.

Think about it. Then give us some characters we love, maybe a few we hate, and a short story that will inspire us--perhaps to seek or forgo our own forbidden love--in our fantasies of course.

Wichita Moon
by
Rob Addison

Not Posted by Author's Request

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