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Writing Prompt 2
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Sorry friends, have been busy, so didn't complete my post yet. Will let this one run a bit more, and hopefully will have my post today or tomorrow.
No one can know.If anyone caught her, she was done for. Why couldn't she just have control over her... urges? This could ruin her. She was a respectable faculty member of an elite university. She was a mathematical statistics professor. She was prim and proper. She never wore any makeup. She wore demure, neutral colored clothes. She was highly respected. She was also, unfortunately, titled by the college students as "Professor Prude."
She couldn't afford for anyone to find out.
She was alone in the teachers' lounge and it was Friday evening. There were no classes left for the day. Her colleagues have already left the grounds. No one was going to barge in on her while doing... it. She was safe. She knew the risk she was taking by bring it here. She couldn't help herself. She had to do... it.
The room was silent, except for the calming crackling sound from the fireplace. She felt herself beginning to relax. The lounge chair was comfy and the fire was keeping her warm. She slipped off her shoes and tucked her legs underneath her. She loosened her hair from the tight bun she always wore.
And then she went for it.
And she was lost.
And she didn't know how long she had been at it.
And then...
"Professor Elodie?"
She paled in her seat. The voice was too close for comfort. In fact, it was just right in her ear.
"Are you- ?" The voice continued.
God! He was leaning over her shoulder! Breathing hard, she stood with her knees shaking and slowly faced the intruder. It was her (handsome) colleague, the Algebra professor, Benjamin Silas. "Professor Ben, i-it's not what it lo-looks like," she stammered.
The mischievous, always-teasing, tall, dark-haired and handsome professor with the beard stubble watched her through eyes narrowed to mere slits. An eyebrow arched, waiting.
She squirmed uncomfortably. "I- "
"You- ?" he prompted when she fell silent.
"I thought everyone had left," she said weakly.
"No. Not everyone apparently."
Abruptly, she fell to her knees on his feet, clutching the ends of his dress shirt that had been released from the proper tuck it had been in all day. "Please don't tell anyone, Benjamin," she cried, "I'll do anything you want. Please don't tell anyone. I'm begging you. My reputation won't survi- "
"Are you mad, woman? Get up!"
She sniffed, letting him to pull her to her feet. "You won't tell?"
He shook his head and she released a sigh of relief. "Thank you, Benjamin. Thank you. I don- " she broke off when he suddenly, literally ran from the teachers' lounge.
"No! Benjamin Silas!"
"EVERYONE! MY FELLOW PROFESSORS! GUESS WHAT! PROFESSOR ELODIE MORRIS AKA PROFESSOR PRUDE IS READING FIFTY SHADES OF GREY AS WE SPEAK!"
-End.
I've got a few points to make just to be clear:
1) Yes, this is *supposed* to be funny.
2) I hope no one gets offended with my reference to Fifty Shades of Grey. I have nothing against it at all.
3) If anyone does not know what Fifty Shades of Grey is: it's a novel notable for its explicitly erotic scenes featuring elements of sexual practices involving bondage/discipline, dominance/submission, and sadism/masochism... AND MAJORITY OF WOMEN OF ALL AGES ALL OVER THE WORLD HAS GONE CRAZY OVER IT.
4) I haven't actually taken the time to proofread so if there are grammatical errors, please forgive me, Grammar Nazis.
So this is my first ever post here. What a milestone. Okay. I hope someone at least finds this even the *tiniest* bit amusing. I wrote this when I'm supposed to be working. Lol
**** CommentI love it. Excellent build of suspense. Love the hints of the 'inappropriate' that make the readers mind wander.
**** POST“And so we consider, as did Christiaan Huygens ‘How vast these orbs must be, and how inconsiderable this Earth, the theater upon which all our mighty designs, all our navigations, and all our wars are transacted’”
The aged professor wound to his conclusion just before the ending bell sounded through the room. What was relative quiet only moments before gave way to a din of shuffling papers, closing books, and stowed tables as the lecture hall emptied. It was early afternoon, but the professor’s last lecture, and he also was occupied with the tasks of putting away and cleaning up. In his peripheral vision two forms emerged. He glanced up at them, expecting students with questions, but was met with two older men. They were dressed more formally than students, but did not have the air of the academia about them, neither did they carry the trappings of the university life.
“May I help you gentlemen?” The professor asked, his hands stalling over his papers and notebooks.
“Sorry to disturb you professor,” the man referenced a notebook he was carrying, “Hale, is it?”
He nodded, his curiosity rising.
“We’d like to ask you a few questions about one of your students, if we could.”
“Student inquiries should be directed through the offices of the university. I can direct you to them if you’d like.”
“Yes, we’ve already been there already,” The men opened their wallets to reveal silvered badges, “We’re with the police department.”
“Is somebody in trouble?”
“We hope not professor. We’re following up on a missing persons. Andrew Gurney. We believe he was a student of yours.”
“Well yes, he is. He’s actually one of my aides. He also works with me on some of our research projects; although I haven’t seen him in a few days.”
“Yes professor, it seems no one has.”
“Oh dear. I do hope he’s alright.”
“When did you see him last?”
“Well,….” The professor considered, “must have been last Friday, when he was working with me in my lab.”
“Are you aware of anyone who might want to do him harm?”
“No, but I’ll admit I don’t know my students too much beyond our interactions for class or in the lab.”
“Can we take a look at the lab?”
“Sure.”
Professor Hale finished collecting his papers and led the men across the campus. His lab was in the physics building, one of many projects being pursued by the faculty of the university. Following a maze of corridors and interconnecting rooms they came at last to the small room where he did his own work. Opening the door and throwing a switch, the room was filled with florescent light from the metal fixtures above. At various locations and in various states of assembly were myriad machines and computers on desks and sometimes the floor. All in all it looked like an electronic junkyard that needed to be cleaned out.
The detectives followed Professor Hale into the room, stepping carefully as he did, so as not to disturb the electro-clutter roundabout.
“So, what is it you do here?” One of them asked.
“We’re experimenting with magnetic fields.” Hale’s
voice faded as he rounded a particularly large contraption, which came to life a moment later with the glow of electric lights. “Primarily we are dealing with practical uses for magnetic fields. Trying to use them as containment for volatile experiments and or a means of deflecting other radiation or forces from penetrating them.”
“Sounds complicated.”
“Well, it can be. Our planet already is protected by a magnetic field from the radiation emitted by the sun. We seek to duplicate that protection on a smaller scale. It could provide protective fields for scientists working in hazardous areas, like nuclear plants or geothermal vents.”
“Sounds a little too Star Trek for me professor. How was Andrew helping you?”
“Andrew had a keen interest in magnetic fields and he also was better with programming than I. His interest extended to other phenomenon as well.”
“Oh?” The detectives’ interest peaked. “Were any of those phenomenon hazardous?”
“Not that I’m aware of. Some theorize that you can use magnetic fields to create a warp or wormhole. Such suppositions are highly theoretical, however. No one has ever come close to such a thing.” Hale could tell from the expression on the men’s faces that their interest was waning very quickly. “Would you like me to show you some of what we were working on?”
The detectives scanned around the room, but were already turning to leave. “No, I think we’ve bothered you enough, professor.” One of the men gave him his card. “Be sure and call us if you think of anything more, or if Andrew gets in touch with you.”
“Certainly. Do you need me to show you out? I was about to start running some tests.”
“No, we’ll find our way. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Hale followed the men to the door and closed it behind them. For some time after they had left, the professor tinkered with various apparatus in the lab, though he did not appear to have any specific purpose or design in mind. Ultimately he stopped altogether, perched as if listening, waiting for any sign or indication of movement. Seeming satisfied with the quiet, Hale turned back to the door and walked quietly to it. He held his ear to the smooth metal while he reached down to the knob and locked the door.
As if in counterpoint to his previous caution, the professor moved quickly back to the large apparatus he’d turned on when the detectives were with him. Extracting a small device from his bag, no bigger than a calculator, he opened a panel on the machine and connected the device. Immediately the dull hum the machine had been emitting pitched higher and louder. Moving around it, the professor adjusted settings and checked screens to ensure all was operating as expected. Once he’d circled the machine once he released a latch and a hidden doorway opened outward.
Within the machine light itself seemed to play and ripple, coruscating like waves and casting odd shadows across the room. The Professor, standing at the doorway took in the sight with quizzical expression, his eyes seemed to grow wider, and his frame suddenly seemed too thin, too long. Suddenly, he jumped into the machine, and just as suddenly, he was gone, save for ripples playing over the surface of the light, like a stone thrown in a river.
*****
In a corner of a distant room, a similar light danced and played from a device much cleaner and purposeful in design. The room was clean, and sparsely furnished, with a long desk and a single door. As suddenly as he’d disappeared in his lab, professor Hale emerged at the end of his leap in the room, landing on his feet in a crouch. Lifting his head to survey the room, a wide smile formed on his lips.
Hale stood and walked to the desk, tapping unseen buttons on its surface. From the side, a bust rose from the surface of the desk, smooth and featureless. Once it finished rising, Hale reached up around to the back of his head, grasping the hair firmly he pulled. Appearing at the base of his neck, a crease spread, reaching up through his hair, the skin separating around a head much paler beneath. Reaching all the way to the crown, the crease continued, and Hale stretched the loose flesh around, peeling off his head. Soon what stood where Hale had been was no longer a man, but something distinctly different and altogether alien.
The thing that had once been Hale placed his false skin upon the bust, placing, shortly after, what can only be described as gloves that he’d removed from his hands. What had once looked human now had large dark eyes, and a small nose almost lost in the smoothness of its face. Its mouth was wide with thin lips and its hands had long thin fingers that dashed over the surface of the desk.
Simultaneously the light from the portal flashed and extinguished, and a new light illuminated the room from the ceiling above. Opening a drawer on the side of the desk, the creature retrieved a thin panel of glass, which came alive with strange characters as he tapped on its surface. A few short steps brought it to the door, and it opened as he approached releasing the cries from within as well.
A multitude of voices echoed from that doorway, some crying, some yelling, some screaming and some whimpering. The being stepped through and before him spread a long open room, and along it on either side stood cages of various designs, some glass, some barred, some with mesh; and within were held all manner of humanity, men, women, children, young and old. In the nearest of these cages stood a young man, his clothing torn, his face colored with bruising, but old bruising. To this the creature walked.
“Hello Andrew, how are you today.”
“What do you want with me?” the man spat, an iron in his voice.
“Truly, I wanted little of you. You were to be studied in your natural environment. It was you who chose differently. I’m afraid your work ethic got you into trouble this time. You were not to have been there at that hour. Now you’re knowledge has gotten you into trouble.”
“People will look for me. You can’t just take people.”
“So naïve. Of course we can. We’ve been doing it for years. Though you are right, people are looking for you. And what shall we do about that Mr. Gurney?”
“I would say you should let me go.”
“I’m sure you would like that, but no, we can’t have tales being told. I suppose we’ll have to give them something to satisfy them. A body perhaps, we have plenty to dispose of. Tell me Mr. Gurney, how would you like to die?”
Andrew’s eyes narrowed as he contemplated what the creature meant by that question.
Mod
I was a bit discouraged due to seeming lack of interest. I'll put another one up tonight.
Note: The "f word" is used. And I tried to put some spaces in for an easier read. ): I stilled, caught in his stare like a deer in headlights. I needed to move. I needed to run. Why was he not shooting me?
He sat there, unmoving.
“I...” A sad excuse for an explanation was trying to find its way out of my lips, but deep down I knew there was nothing I could say.
He did not even seem to hear me.
“I’m sorry.”
He took a slow, calculated breath. “You’re...sorry?”
“It was an accident! I was trying to defend myself-” The words stumbled out of my mouth in a hurry. I took a step back, toward the tree line. My hands tight on the straps of my backpack.
I have to run. I have to run.
“He came at me and I- I just-” Why do I keep talking?! “I didn’t mean to, I promise! Please, I’m sorry... Sam, I’m-”
“You’re...sorry?” His voice rung lower as he came to a stand. His hands wrapped tightly around the ax by his side.
Oh, shit.
He looked up at me, eyes wild.
“Sam, please...” Run, run, run! Why am I not running?
“You killed my brother, and you’re...sorry?”
I took a few steps back, sinking into the trees. Beneath me, a twig snapped.
Sam began to raise the ax.
Fuck.
I turned and ran into the woods, as deep as I could. I could feel the threat of the ax against my back with every footstep. The sound of it whipping through the air before it sank deep into my spine...
My heart raced against my chest, but all I could hear was his thick laughter.
Cold light glinted off the barrel of the handgun pointed mere feet from the man's face. The scientist was huddled defensively against the wall behind him. Sweat poured down his face and his breathing came in rough uneven gasps. This could very well be the moment that he breathed his last and he was absolutely terrified. He'd managed to keep his secret this long and if not for those sneaky little bastards he wouldn't be afraid for his life right now."You worthless piece of sh-"
"Logan enough!" Riel cried. Logan's eyes darted over to where the ginger haired beauty stood tense and frozen next to the lab equipment. Logan was furious.
"He just admitted to it! He's the one that released the virus as our government sat by and watched, encouraged it even. I may not be able to punish those that were in charge but I'm sure as hell not letting this scum get away with his part in it!" he bellowed. His eyes flitted back to the cowering scientist. Riel was visibly shaking now. She had never seen Logan so angry and she had no doubt that Logan would be willing to put a bullet through Simms' forehead.
"Please Logan, stand down" she pleaded. She had to get through to him. She believed that violence wasn't the answer, no matter what the reason. "Do you really want his blood on your hands?"
Logan's voice was low and edged with steel. "I will not yield!" His finger tightened on the trigger. A feral grin slowly crept across his lips. "Beg!" he commanded.
Simms paled and his eyes got round as eggs. "w-wh-what?" he stammered.
"I said beg for your life!" Logan roared. Simms raised his hands defensively and started sputtering nonsensically. Logan's eyes gleamed with malice in the harsh fluorescent glare of the overhead lights. His smile widened. "Sorry, not good enough."
"Don't!!!" Riel screamed. The gunshot rang out in the small lab like a bomb exploding. Smoke curled lazily from the end of the barrel. She stood there in shocked silence. Simms still sat against the wall. He had pissed himself but except for a small scratch along his temple, he was unharmed. His mouth opened and closed wordlessly as he struggled to breathe normally. Riel's eyes settled on the bullet hole just centimeters from the left side of Simms' face. It had buried itself in the wall. She sighed with relief and her gaze went to Logan. His face was an indecipherable mask and his eyes, so bright before, were now dead and lifeless. He stared for one long moment at the man covered in his own filth.
"You're not worth the bullet." he sneered and strode from the room.
Mod
On to some constructive criticism: the main problem here is the point of view, which keeps shifting. That's pretty distracting.
Another thing is that there are a couple of instances in which you sum up what you just showed the reader ("Logan was furious", "(Simms) was absolutely terrified" - you did a great job of showing both those emotions, there was no need to spell it out for the reader.)
Sofia wrote: "This is pretty good and the setting is starting to get clearer (I'm guessing zombie apocalypse, but maybe I'm wrong). On to some constructive criticism: the main problem here is the point of view,..."
I sort of get what you mean about the point of view. (For all my writing skills I'm not good at getting across what I mean, lol). When I was writing it and envisioning the scene in my head it played out like a movie with the reader on the sidelines and watching the whole thing unfold much like a person sitting in front of the tv watching their favorite show play out before them. It wasn't really from one or the other character's POV in particular. I think a lot of my writing tends to do this. Any resources, examples, or tips to help with improving the POV shifts is greatly appreciated. :D
*** comment *** Well, that would be 3rd person omniscient POV. Possibly the scene is not the best for establishing POV, as it's very emotional. I would also say the use of personal pronouns when describing the scene may be whats causing the confusion. I.E.
"He'd managed to keep his secret this long and if not for those sneaky little bastards he wouldn't be afraid for his life right now."
This sentence very much makes you feel like you're reading from Simm's perspective, but then you jump to Logan, and to Riel in like manner.
Scarivace wrote: "*** comment *** Well, that would be 3rd person omniscient POV. Possibly the scene is not the best for establishing POV, as it's very emotional. I would also say the use of personal pronouns whe..."
***comment***
How would one go about fixing that? When I first started writing it I found myself using each character's name instead of the "he, she, he'd, etc." but it was distracting to me. I want my writing to be accessible to my readers though and not distracting to them.
*** comment *** Good question. I would say you would want to detach yourself from the characters some. Instead of personal pronouns, use descriptors for the character, ie "The man" or "the scientist" or use descriptors for them.
In the referenced sentence you could:
"Simm's had managed to keep his secret this long and if not for xxxxx it would still be a secret. 'Sneaky little bastards', the though crossed his mind, flitting between the terror of the gun pointed at him."
You're basically trying to pull the reader away, without necessarily limiting their information, you just address it differently. Try and think like you're writing an essay.
Mod
Well, that would be 3rd person omniscient POV. Possibly the scene is not the best for establishing POV, as it's very emotional. I would also say the use of per..."
**comment**
I've just written a post on the "Writing Tips" thread regarding the use of different POVs, you can check it out if you want :)
***comment***Ok, I've attempted to fix it. Don't know if it reads any better though. :p I really like the scene and hope I can fix it enough to keep it. I had no plans for a story before trying out these prompts but after the first one, I'm hooked. It's given me a lot of ideas.
***post***
Cold light glinted off the barrel of the handgun hovering mere feet from the man's face. The scientist was huddled defensively against the wall. Sweat poured down his face and his breathing came in rough uneven gasps. This could very well be the moment that he breathed his last. Simms had managed to keep his part in the collapse of humanity a secret so far and if not for that blonde bimbo assistant and her loose tongue, it would still be secret. 'Never trust a woman' Simms’s father had always said. It was advice that Simms now wondered if he would live to regret.
"You worthless piece of sh-"
"Logan enough!" the woman cried out. Logan's eyes darted over to where the ginger haired beauty stood tense and frozen next to the lab equipment.
"He just admitted to it! He's the one that released the virus as our government sat by and watched, encouraged it even. For all we know Riel, the government may have even ordered it! I may not be able to punish those that were in charge but I'm sure as hell not letting this scum get away with his part in it!" he bellowed. Logan's eyes flitted back to the cowering scientist. Riel was visibly shaking now. She had never seen Logan so angry and she had no doubt that Logan would be willing to put a bullet through Simms’s forehead. Simms watched the exchange from his position on the floor. Maybe the woman would be able to talk some sense into the crazed man with the gun.
"Please Logan, stand down" she pleaded. "Do you really want his blood on your hands?"
Logan's voice was low and edged with steel. "I will not yield!" His finger tightened on the trigger. A feral grin slowly crept across his lips. His gaze steady on the crouched figure below him. "Beg!" he commanded.
Simms paled and his eyes got round as eggs. This was it, he was going to die. "w-wh-what?" he stammered.
"I said beg for your life!" Logan roared. Simms raised his hands defensively and started sputtering nonsensically. Logan's eyes gleamed with malice in the harsh fluorescent glare of the overhead lights. The smile on his face widened. "Sorry, not good enough."
"Don't!!!" Riel screamed. The gunshot rang out in the small lab like an explosion. Smoke curled lazily from the end of the barrel. She stood there in shocked silence, her ears ringing. Simms still sat frozen against the wall. The scientist had pissed himself but except for a small scratch along his temple, he was unharmed. A small trickle of blood slowly traced a path down his cheek. His mouth opened and closed wordlessly as he struggled to return his breathing to normal. Riel's eyes settled on the bullet hole centimeters from the left side of Simms’s face. It had buried itself in the wall. She sighed with relief and her gaze went to Logan. His face was an indecipherable mask and his eyes, so bright before, were now dead and lifeless. He stared for one long moment at the man covered in his own filth.
"You're not worth the bullet." he sneered and strode from the room.
*** comment ***I think it is much improved. I defer to Sofia though, as she made the original observation.
Mod
I think it's a lot better now , too :)
Hi all,I'm a little shy (little?!) so haven't really posted/commented until now, but wanted to say thought what Ashley wrote was really good and it could easily grow into a story. Keep going! :)
Hope everyone has a great day and lookin' forward to reading, as well as writing, more. :)
*** Comment ***Hi Tara,
Good to hear from you. I agree, Ashley's posts have great potential and I look forward to reading more.
***comment***Thanks for the encouragement guys! :) I've been thinking of something to do for the third prompt and I've already got kind of an idea for the fourth.
Mod
Well, almost all: Richard and I are of a blood, after all. He knows me, as surely as he knows himself. He knows I am up to something.
I think of my laboratory, buried deep within the ground. They don’t know of it, of course. I’d be upon the pyre in a blink if they knew.
Sometimes, in the dark of the night, when I am alone and quite safe, I allow myself to chuckle a bit at their foolishness. All their blind, frantic searches. Kill the witch, kill the witch. How pathetic. They seize tight-faced crones, burn them for their knowledge of medical herbs and yet they can’t tell when a witch is living with them, giggling with their daughters and flirting with their sons. Of course, how could they tell? I am not like those witches drawn on the walls of the temples, I’m no old hag waving a wand. No, I’m smooth-faced and pleasantly built, my hair shines in the sunlight and my eyes are wide and guileless. Who’d accuse me of sorcery?
And so I smile, weave flowers crowns and keep my hate and spite close to my heart.
For this prompt, a character has a secret. Someone else has discovered that secret. What that secret is and who found out is up to you. Any genre is open, though this one tends better with short stories. Looking forward to seeing what you all come up with. I'll try and post something myself over the next few days.
P.S. For those participating in Jacob's brood (very similar), please use different character/secret. THx!