First 5-Minutes in a Long Time

Alright people. I kept saying I would do another 5-minute exercise, but I never did...until now. This was actually completed on Thursday...I think. I've been dating my papers wrong all week. This could've been done on Monday for all I know.  But here it is. It's actually pretty good if I do say so myself. At least it was when I wrote it. Btw, if you have an exercise that you've done or one that you use to help you get over your writer's block, please share it in the comments below. Love ya's.

#421: "So, what do you write about?"

"So, what do you write about?" she asked him as she rummaged through his library.

He looked at her; she didn't notice. "What makes you think I write about anything?"

"Oh, you know, the pen collection, the library, your silence; I don't know. You just kind of seem like the writing type to me." She turned to him. "You can tell me if I'm wrong."

He shrugged. "Actually, you're quite right. I do enjoy writing occasionally."

"What are you writing now? If you don't mind my asking."

"I'm writing a fiction piece about a serial killer who gets away with murder by passing off his confessions as fiction."

Chapters One

I just posted the first chapters of Demons Of The Guilded and Blood Of The Hunted. Check them out here!!

Crazy Days and New Boys

Alright, I didn't do the five-minute flash last week.  I didn't do it this week.  I failed two weeks in a row.  I admit it.  (Especially, since I can't lie, what with this being the internet and all).  I've been working on my Artists for Schools event, my Blue Ships magazine, and widdling a to-do list about a mile long.  It happens.  It sucks.  But it happens.  At any rate, I thought hey, I've actually kinda started working on another set of characters, The Grimm Brothers.  So if anywhere is a good place to debut them to the public, it may very well be here.  So here is an excerpt from the as yet titled story, The Brothers Grimm.  Enjoy.

The Brothers Grimm

Try as he might, Stephen could not get the scent of girl off of him.  If he stayed in the shower any longer, his soft washcloth was going to start feeling like a brillo pad against his shriveled skin.  The memory of the girl’s crazy pink hair that looked like it was fading and the feel of her on top of him was enough to make him choke back bile.  God, if he lived to be a hundred, he would never tell his wife about what happened an hour ago in this cheap motel room.  He already felt enough like a prostitute; the last thing he needed was for the love of his life to leave him.  Especially at a time like this.

            He climbed out of the shower and looked at himself in the mirror as he dried off.  The girl had been a sad reminder of why he hated his face, hated his long eyelashes and chestnut skin.  Everyone everywhere wanted their turn in his bed; it made him feel dirty and self-conscious.  However, the girl had turned out to be useful.  Or at least he hoped.  He wouldn’t know until he followed the leads, which he couldn’t do until tomorrow.  God, he hated waiting, hated that he needed sleep.  Yet, even as his body begged and ached for the relief that came from a good night’s rest, he still couldn’t sleep.

            Images of what might be happening to his sister, the torture she must be going through as he lie in his cozy bed, flashed in his mind every time he closed his eyes.  His heart beat rapidly as worry and guilt suffocated him.

            Alaine.  His baby sister, his only sister, taken.  Her six older brothers, powerless to protect her.  And he was the oldest.  What was he good for?  Sure, he had taught her how to fight and protect herself, and from the looks of her apartment, it was training time well spent, but it just wasn’t enough to save her.

            He never should have helped her move to New York.  He knew it was a bad idea.  But she was a big girl, or at least trying to be.  And big girls went off to college.  It was a normal every day thing.  It’s just what happens.

            Besides, it wasn’t as if he had left her completely without ends.  He’d helped her find an apartment so that he could make sure she was living someplace nice, safe.  He wanted to get a nice one-bedroom in a gated community, but those things run upwards of $2,000 per month.  She’d be damned if she was going to let him spend that much money on an apartment she was fairly certain she would never see again once she graduated.

            Alaine loved her brother dearly and being CEO of a major bank granted him the luxury of being able to afford a place like that and still take care of his family.  However, he worked hard for many, many years to get to where he was in life.  All she wanted was the same opportunity.  To go out and make something of herself.

            The compromise on the apartment was the cheapest studio the complex had, which was still around $1,200, and she paid her own bills.  He could live with that.  Hated it.  But he knew fighting with her was pointless.  She was as stubborn as any of her brothers and twice as irritating.  At least his brothers he could knock around.  What was he going to do with her?

            What was he going to do without her? 

Insomnia and the Snow Day

So it was a snow day today in good 'ol Kansas City, MO, which means, I didn't have to go to work.  Whooo!!! Hoooo!!!  And kids think teachers don't appreciate a good snow day every now and then.  Anyhow, on wards and upwards with this week's 5-minuter.  Enjoy.  Oh and check out the new Blue Ships Magazine site.  And while you're there, submit something.

Ex. 291: You have insomnia.  What are you doing while the rest of the world is asleep?

10pm: The wife is nagging me because I won't see a doctor about my insomnia.  I nag her about moving from Alaska, where it doesn't get dark for parts of the year, to moving back to Vegas, where I loved living.

12am:  The wife has finally decided to take a shower and rest.  I look in on the kids for no reason other than I can.  This also marks the 15th day I've gone without sleep.

12:05am:  I have opened and closed the shutters in my bedroom six times.  Still nothing.

3:47am:  I have been watching a multitude of random late night/early morning programming on over 300 channels.  Not all of which I have a subcription for.  It usually takes me about 5-6 minutes to realize that's why the channel's blank.

4:03am:  I jump in the shower and get ready for work...in five hours.

Helloooo, New Year. Helloooo

Ex 398:  Perfection

   Perfection.  That was the only way Leona could describe Ewan.  He moved like a cool lake and spoke like a sonnet.  And every morning when she woke up and looked into her husband Owen's sleeping face, she hated herself for even daring to think about another man.  So what if Ewan was king of the land she was born from?  Owen was her king now.  He was good to her, kind.  He deserved more than half of her heart, more than she could ever give him, or anyone else.

Aaaand we're back to business as usual

So, the NaNoWriatus is over.  We are back to 5-Minute Monday!!!  YAAAAAY!!!!!

Ex. 248:  "After all was said and done..."

"After all was said and done, more was said than done."  That's what the poster on the wall says.  My job thinks it helps morale to have the funny versions of the motivational posters hanging around the office rather than the originals.  Steven Covey, I think they're by.  What management doesn't realize is that the posters are funny only because they are sadly true.  As I look at my watch and realize that I only have five minutes left of a lunch I was forced to forsake for a long, drawn-out board meeting where I don't say anything because all  my ideas get drowned out, I realize how true those words on the poster are.

I grab my lunch out of the fridge and decide I don't mind cold lasagna.  But I'm lying.  I hate cold lasagna.  I don't know anyone who loves anything cold that's supposed to be warm, from food to people.

NaNo Day 13: Part Two. The last section I worked on.

So, this section completes my NaNoWriMo posting for the year.  I finished my project at 18,370 words.  Just so close to 20,000.  But I just couldn't get my groove back after I got sidetracked at school.  Hope you enjoy!!  Next week, we will be back to our regularly scheduled 5-Minute Exercises.  Good Day all and have a happy/merry Christmas.

NaNo Day 13 part two:

You climb down the rope really feeling like you could use a drink right about now or a really strong drug.  “Alright.  Please tell me you have a plan that does not involve us living out the rest of our lives down here.”

Val scoffs at you.  “Please.  Do you know who I am?  I’m the alphabet man.  I got a plan for every letter of the alphabet.”  Val pushes a button and the brick wall moves.  This time when the wall opens, it turns a little, splitting the entrance in two.  Val rushes through the door.  You follow after him.  You can hear the door close behind you. 

“Val, let me ask you a question,” you say as you and val run through a series of curves and turns that makes you feel like you’re trapped in a never ending maze. “Why the hell do none of your doors open the same way?”

“It’s all about breaking up routine, buddy.”

Right.  Actually, you should have guessed that.  You know Val's philosophy on routine.  Routines are like coffins.  Only the dead use them.

After a few more curves you come to yet another brick wall.  You decide to take mental bets on how this one opens.  Would it swing towards you, fall into the ground?  Oh no, you got it.  It will completely dissolve and then reappear.  Val definitely left a lot to be desired in the sanity department; although, no doubt he was a god among geeks.

Valpatine dropped his bag on the floor and sat down next to it.  “Um, what part of the plan is this?” you ask val.

“This is the part of the plan where we wait. “  Val looks at his watch.  “We have about two hours and twenty minutes before it gets dark enough to travel under cloak on foot.  We wait until then, and then we go up, get my car that I’ve stashed in one of the factories, and get the hell out of dodge.  I say our best bet is to go to someplace well populated.”

“And you have that crazy ass idea because…”

“Because of how much they love to work in secret.  Geesh, haven’t you been paying attention to your own story?  Everything you’ve told me about these guys screams dark and mysterious.  I really don’t get the feeling that they would have pulled and bum rush stunt like they did up there had we been at the park.  They like to leave a few witnesses as possible; makes it easier to get rid of them.”

“Okay, I’m with you there; however, they have people everywhere.  So how is your plan going to help us?”

He looks at you and you know an insult to your intelligence is coming.  “You rode the short bus when you were a kid, didn’t you?”

You roll your eyes, drop your bag on the floor, and sit down across from Val.

“Sure, they got people everywhere.  But in order to get us in broad daylight and still feign secrecy, they can only send their goons one maybe two at a time.  And every time they do, we’ll be ready to take them out.”

Eh, that was an okay plan in theory especially when compared to the plan you had which was nothing.  You looked over at Val.  He had his head against the wall and his eyes were closed.  Sleep sounded nice and you felt sad for yourself that you thought leaning against a wall looked comfortable.  You looked at your watch.  You still had a couple of hours before nightfall. 

You wanted to rest your eyes, but every time you were in the dark or you slept, you had weird dreams and thoughts about you killing people.  It made you seriously uncomfortable.  You thought only psychotic serial killers mafia dons had dreams like what you were having.  And what tripped you out even more was that the thought were clear as if you were remembering them.  As if you had actually done the things you had been thinking, which you knew was impossible because you could account for your time spent during the day and night.

Even trippier was the fact that, whenever you told your wife about your dreams, she didn’t seem the least fazed by them.  “Oh, well, you know, people have weird dreams, honey.  They don’t mean anything.”  And then she’d walk off. 

Before you knew you had, you closed your eyes.  The only reason you knew they were closed was because you had a dream about you fighting a group of people.  The fight ends with you standing behind some guy and slicing his throat.  You jolt awake and stand up.  Because you bolted to your feet, val, who is never that deep in sleep, jumps up after you and pulls a gun.

“Whoa!”  You parry and disarm him before he can shoot you.  “Valpatine, it’s me.”

Once he hears your voice and sees your face, he relaxes.  “What the hell, man?  Are we under attack or what?  You can’t just be jumping up like that for no reason, son.  That’s how mo fo’s get shot…like you almost did.”

“Yeah, look, are we good?”

“Yeah, man.  Give me back my gun?”  He throws his hand out.

You drop the gun into his palm.

“Damn man.  What are you all jumpy for anyway?” he asks as he slams his gun back into its holster.  “Ain’t nobody gonna get us down here?”

“It’s not that it’s just…I have a hard time sleeping.”

“Then don’t sleep.  Shit!”  He sits back down, still scowling at you.

You give him a dry stare.  “Thank you for that advice, doctor.  Any other solution you want to present that could get me killed or turned insane?”

“Why the hell ain’t you sleeping anyway?”

You shake your head and start pacing the little space between the walls.  “It’s a long a story.”

Val looks at his watch.  “We got an hour and thirteen minutes.  And I’m awake now, so…”

You look at him and shrug.  It’s not like you got shit else to do anyway.  “I keep having these weird dreams that I’m killing people.  And not just killing them, I’m executing them.  It’s weird.  It’s like…like I don’t know.  I am not capable of doing the things I’m dreaming about.  So, either I watched the Bourne movies too many damn times or, I don’t know what the hell.”

Val gives you a dry stare.  “That’s it?”

“Um, yeah.” 

Val looks at his watch.  “That didn’t even take fifteen minutes.”

“Um…”

“I am disappointed.  I was really hoping for a story, not a Facebook update.  And anyway, how do you know you can’t do those things you’ve been dreaming about?  What you got some key to the possible and impossible that I don’t know about?”

You sigh and sit down in front of him.  “Listen.  How much do I love to fly?”

He laughs at you.  “You hate it.  I’ve never seen anyone break out into the sweats like you at just the mention of being on an airplane.”

“Yeah, and how good a swimmer am I?”

“Uuum, I’ve seen dead fish swim better.”

“Exactly.  In these dreams, I’m jumping off of rooftops, swimming like the thing that made Michael Phelps.  Like, I am not capable of doing these things.”

“Alright.  I agree.  So, you’re having wishful dreams.  So, what?  Why are you freaking out?”

“Because they don’t feel like dreams.  Man, I’m telling you, they feel like memories.  So much so that it freaks me out.”

Val looks like he’s trying to take this seriously; he actually seems to be thinking about what you’re telling him.  “Alright, look, let’s say you really are some bad ass assassin for some government run sheep herd.  On the one hand, that explains why these people are after you.  I mean if you messed up on a job, I’ve seen enough movies to know things ain’t gonna go well for you.  However, if you are pulling a John Wilkes Booth at night, wouldn’t someone notice?  Wouldn’t there be time you couldn’t account for?  Or your wife yelling at you, thinking you’re sleeping around on her?  You know something?  Some sign?”

“Yeah.  You would think.  And I’ve been asking myself those same questions.  And I got no answers.”

“Except for the fact these sons of bitches like to work in secret.  Alright, so even if you had been going around doing the knife and gun routine, there would be no way to verify it.”  He thinks for a moment.  “Unless, you recognize your victims in your dreams.  Then we could find out if they really are dead and how they died.”

“Yeah.  I thought about that, too.”

“And?”

“Nothing.  I have no idea who these people are or why I would even have dreams of killing them.”

“Oh, great. So, we got nothing.”

“Yep, and a whole hell of a lot of it.”

Nano Day 13: Part One

With one hand, valpatine reached up and pulled what looked like a handle down from the ceiling.  Val then pushed up and put his eyes to something.  “Hm,” he said.  “You are not gonna believe this shit, mate.”

He then pushes a button and you hear a noise like metal adjusting.  Val reaches for a latch and he pulls an over head door open.  As val does all of this with one hand while keeping himself hanging on that rope with the other, you come to a realization, val is one strong mo fo.  You make a mental note to never get into a fist fight with his ass.

Val climbs the rope some more and then sticks his head out of the hole.  “Ohhh, damn.  You need to see this shit,” Val says from a good 50 feet above you.  Val climbs back down the rope and lands in front of you.  “Go.  Hurry.”

You look at Val, then up at that rope.  It was high.  It was hella high.  And you were only going to make that with a running leap.  Not a little hop like your green giant of a friend here.  Damn it all straight into the belly of hell.  You take a few steps back, run, and jump.

The good news is, you grab the rope.  The bad news is, you also swing into that brick wall.  Val laughs at you as you grunt and groan.  But you don’t lose hold of the rope; you gotta love yourself for that.  Using only your arms at first you climb the rope as fast as you can.  You are surprised by how easy the climb is for you.  Yeah, you ain’t gonna lie.  It hurts like a bitch, but you move like it’s completely familiar to you.  You feel like you’ve done this a million and yet you can’t remember a single time beyond high school that you’ve ever climbed or had a reason to climb a rope.

Upon climbing what felt Everest made from dry grass, you stick your head up out of the hole.  The sight is astounding.  You can’t believe it and you’re seeing it. 

Turns out val was right.  They were after you.  Heavy.  And you know this from the abundance of dead bodies around val’s flaming house and buried underneath the debris.  There are black cars and vans that look like they were attacked by car bombs.  The whole area around val’s house looks like it was hit with blast of world war.

Damn it.  You know what this means.  Val was right.  Had you two waited any longer you would be…well, hell, you didn’t know where you would be, but you knew…actually, had you waited and gotten captured, you may have found out what happened to your wife.

Wait a minute, that blast beneath the tunnel must have more damage than you realized if you really believe that these people who can make you, your wife, bank teller, and a murder completely disappear in one are going to do anything to help you.  No, if you are going to get answers from anyone, it will not be them.  You think about jumping out of this whole, running to the scene, and looking for any survivors so that you can get some kind of information.  But then you remember the episode with your cousin biting into a pill that he knew would kill him.  Anyone, whom you found alive, would die before he told you anything, including his name and the name of the organization you all seem to work for.  All it would take for you get caught would be to start doing things without thinking. 

My New Book and NaNo Day 12

Alas!!! My first novel, The Demon Cleaner: Demons of the Guilded, is finally available.  There was a misunderstanding between myself, CreateSpace, and possibly myself so the title looks...um... backwards.  But no matter.  I'm sure it still reads the same.  If you would like a copy, you may go HERE or to the sidebar on your right.  Reviews are appreciated.

NaNo Day 12:

You place your fingers to the side of the man’s neck.  He has a pulse, but it is so faint, you do not really feel it is necessary to worry about.  However, you have a zero tolerance for error policy.  You slit the guy’s throat, then wipe his blood off on his shirt. 

Time is-a wasting.  You haul yourself down the hallway with that effing golden color and stop at a room.  You pull a key card from your pocket and walk in, making sure that no one sees you.  So far, so good.  You have to get to the bathroom.  You rush in, sit your black bag on the floor, and proceed to put your rifle together. 

Once the gun puzzle has been masterfully solved, you get to the next part of the plan.  You pull a heat identifier out of your bag.  You turn it on and can see that there is no one in the bathroom below you.  Not a problem.  You move to one of the other rooms, carrying your rifle and your heat sensor.  There, in the living, are six adult male heat patterns, your target and your target’s bodyguards.  You can’t tell which one is which.  Ah, well.  No choice but to take them all out. 

You hold up the rifle and choose which target would be best to go after first, knowing that as soon as you take the first shot, the guards are going to be on even higher alert than the stiffs already are.  You decide to take out the guy in the center.  Most likely, he’s your actual target.  The other oafs are just standing around him as if they can protect him from danger at all sides.  Too bad no one is looking up.

You hold the rifle and make sure you have a good aim.  Then you pull the trigger.  The long bullet goes through the floor, through the piping and then through the ceiling.  Once it pierces your target’s scalp and skull, it keeps going, puncturing other organs as it makes its decent to come out of his center and get stuck in the floor between his feet. 

It took a few seconds for the bodyguards to react.  Meanwhile, in the seconds it took them to realize that they were being attacked, you had already taken out three more bodyguards...no four more...nope.  All dead.  In seconds.  That’s why you get paid the big bucks.  Taking no time to pat yourself on the back, this was after all just a job, you took apart your gun and packed up your toys in your black bag.

You strapped your bag to your back and then climbed out of a window.  You dropped to the balcony two stories beneath you.  You kneeled down, unzipped your bag, and pulled out a crane.  You sat the crane down beside the bag, while you zipped the bag back up, and restrapped it to your back.  You picked up the crane and once you felt that you were ready, you climbed on top of the balcony railing and jumped. 

You pushed yourself off of the balcony as hard as you could.  You held your arms out to your sides and kept your legs shut.  You counted down. One. Two. Three. Four. Five.  Then you shot your crane to the neighboring building, the one where you were when this whole thing started. 

The crane shot out of your instrument like a torpedo.  It got stuck into the building’s cement.  You held fast as the string caught with such force that, had you not been the pro that you are, the instrument would have been yanked from your grasp and you would have spiraled to your doom.  However, once the string caught, the crane pulled you towards it at the same time that you were swinging towards the building.  To the casual observer, you looked like you were going to smack right into the side of the building and break something that you were really going to regret breaking, but you knew your timing.  You were confident, more confident than you remember being in your whole life.  This would work.  Just a little more and you would…

“Hey, man,” Valpatine yells at you, completely breaking your little moment and reminding you that you are in a dark deep tunnel, running for your life, and not some super assassin, killing people through floorboards and jumping off of rooftops.

“Yeah.  I’m fine.”  Suddenly, lights switch on.  Even though they are dim lights, they still hurt your eyes after having been consumed so completely by darkness.  You cover your eyes and rub them, trying to bring them comfort.

“I do not know where you head was just now, but we need to get moving.  Like yesterday.”  He holds the detonator up, hoping to remind you of how close you are to danger.

You nod your head and follow him as he runs off.   He stops at another brick wall.  This time the wall swings open from the ceiling and moves away from you.  Valpatine rushes through.  You follow him through with the same urgency.  As you run down this tunnel, following only your trust in your friend, there is a loud Boom.  Valpatine has detonated the bombs. 

The blast knocks you off of your feet.  You fly a few before falling to the ground and skidding into a wall head first.  Valpatine, who appears to be unaffect, probably because he saw the blast coming, runs to you to help you up.

“Damn it, val,” you growl at him.  “You could have warned me before you did that.”

He says nothing.  Once you’re back on your feet and he’s sure that you’re okay, he runs off again, saying nothing to you. 

Damn the bastard is fast.  It is all you can do just to maintain a visual on him.  It is a good thing that you weren’t so lame as to trip and fall in the middle of a sprint for life or you would be left behind to explode alone.

You and Valpatine finally stop running and hit another wall.  This time, instead of the wall opening, Valpatine looks up.  He looks to be searching for something.  It takes a few seconds, but Valpatine finds what he’s looking for.  He reaches up and grabs a rope.  He yanks on it a couple of times, probably to make sure it’s stable, then he jumps up, grabs the rope, and climbs up like he had done it a million times before, which knowing val, he probably has.  “Just for practice because you never know,” Val was always fond of saying.

NaNo Day 11: Part 3

Not a problem.  You use the momentum you already have built up and pin him to the wall.  You then take the opportunity to pull another blade and stab him in his side.  He grunts but he doesn’t yell.  You twist the blade as much as you can then rip the blade out.  You push yourself off of him and watch as he slides to the floor.  Not because you’re interested; you just want to make sure he’s dead.