agilebrit: (Tony Stark--Anteaters)
the 99fiction competition. Alas. This is the piece I wrote as a writing exercise during the Writing Excuses retreat, during Dan Wells's talk on writing horror. And one of the things was "Establish normal, and then break it." The "normal" I establish in this piece is "vampires are real and taking over," which... isn't really normal, but it's what I establish within the bounds of the story.

So, anyway. Here it is.

Ghastly symptoms, both odd and familiar--photophobia, cravings, disturbed sleep patterns. The vampires were bolder of late; they'd get us all eventually. Now it was my turn, although I'd delayed this clinic visit in the forlorn hope the signs would just disappear. I fidgeted, the yet-unspoken verdict sitting boulderlike on my stuttering heart.

Doctor Black's gaze was compassionate. "We've done the tests."

I tried on a shaky smile. Sunlight allergy. Diet change. I'd survive. Sure. "It's not that bad, though." Breathing. "Right?"

His brow creased. "I'm sorry, John, but... I'm afraid it's very bad. You have stage four cancer."


And there's your sucker punch for the day. You're welcome.
agilebrit: (I'm a terrible person)
So I'ma post the story I wrote for that here. It will also go on the backs of my business cards, in rotation with the other two. I've decided I don't like the title much, so I'm excising that.

And, go:

Everyone loses the race against Death sometime, but I wouldn't go without a fight. I raised my sword, while he stared down at me in what might have been bemusement if skulls had expressions. "Dragon," he said mildly. "Behind you."

Oh, cra--

It swallowed me whole. As I splashed headfirst into the stomach, its heartbeat thundered from right. . . over. . . there. The stench was appalling. Funny, the things you notice.

I hacked my way through internal organs and armored hide and lifted my chin, dripping slime and blood. "Well?" Death nodded--and vanished with the dragon.


Yeah, I had fun with that.

In other news, I've incorporated some well-deserved crit into the Janni story (many thanks to [livejournal.com profile] texanfan!) and am about set to retroactively outline Ghost Ship fic to see where I went wrong. Deadlines wait for no writer.
agilebrit: (Default)
How's this?

Working at the firm we've not-so-jokingly nicknamed "Beelzebub's Barristers," I'd never had qualms about getting terrible people out of big trouble. That's what lawyers do, although usually on a smaller, less supernatural, scale than ours.

But this client destroyed an entire city, and laughed while he did it. Over a million men, women, and children obliterated, just like that. So instead of getting him off, I made sure he was found guilty, sentenced to death, and sent directly to Hell. Do not pass Go.

I figured they'd fire me. Probably send me to Hell to keep the client company. Do not collect your $200 per minute. Yet here I sit, in a comfy corner office, with a fat raise and the partnership I'd always coveted.

And I wonder: Is this a reward? Or a punishment?


135 words.

*facepalms* And I'm sitting here violating my own rules. THESE AREN'T DRABBLES. They're flashfic.
agilebrit: (Default)
How's this?

Working at the firm we've not-so-jokingly nicknamed "Beelzebub's Barristers," I'd never had qualms about getting terrible people out of big trouble. That's what lawyers do, although usually on a smaller, less supernatural, scale than ours.

But this client destroyed an entire city, and laughed while he did it. Over a million men, women, and children obliterated, just like that. So instead of getting him off, I made sure he was found guilty, sentenced to death, and sent directly to Hell. Do not pass Go.

I figured they'd fire me. Probably send me to Hell to keep the client company. Do not collect your $200 per minute. Yet here I sit, in a comfy corner office, with a fat raise and the partnership I'd always coveted.

And I wonder: Is this a reward? Or a punishment?


135 words.

*facepalms* And I'm sitting here violating my own rules. THESE AREN'T DRABBLES. They're flashfic.
agilebrit: (Default)
For I am the Queen of the Drabbles.

Well. Drabbles-and-a-half, anyway. Try this on for size:

My company sends me all over, hunting things that go bump in the night. This job at Lake Tele in the Congo had been simple, for once. I knelt by the lakeshore, washing purple goo off before it stained, when a gigantic ripple surged over my forearms.

I jerked my head up...and up. And up. Holy--

That...was a dinosaur. An Apatosaurus, to be exact. The snakelike head dipped, and it sniffed me. Once. Twice. I'd stupidly left my weapons in the tent; if it decided I was food, I couldn't do a blessed thing. But I swear it winked, and it seemed amused as it backed away and sank.

In our business, we believe in twelve impossible things before breakfast. Vampires, alternate dimensions, and ghosts are part of our routine. However, as the Apatosaurus disappeared beneath the water, I knew that none of my coworkers would ever believe this.


Because, really. The Xander-meets-a-dinosaur story was way too good to leave languishing as fanfic.
agilebrit: (Default)
For I am the Queen of the Drabbles.

Well. Drabbles-and-a-half, anyway. Try this on for size:

My company sends me all over, hunting things that go bump in the night. This job at Lake Tele in the Congo had been simple, for once. I knelt by the lakeshore, washing purple goo off before it stained, when a gigantic ripple surged over my forearms.

I jerked my head up...and up. And up. Holy--

That...was a dinosaur. An Apatosaurus, to be exact. The snakelike head dipped, and it sniffed me. Once. Twice. I'd stupidly left my weapons in the tent; if it decided I was food, I couldn't do a blessed thing. But I swear it winked, and it seemed amused as it backed away and sank.

In our business, we believe in twelve impossible things before breakfast. Vampires, alternate dimensions, and ghosts are part of our routine. However, as the Apatosaurus disappeared beneath the water, I knew that none of my coworkers would ever believe this.


Because, really. The Xander-meets-a-dinosaur story was way too good to leave languishing as fanfic.
agilebrit: (Default)
This is a hundred and fifty words. Which means, to fit it all, it has to be in size 7 font. Which, UGH.

Working at the firm we not-so-jokingly call "Beelzebub's Barristers," you'll eventually encounter the line you refuse to cross. I'd never had qualms about getting terrible people out of big trouble; that's what lawyers do, although usually on a smaller scale than ours.

But this client destroyed an entire city, and laughed while he did it. Over a million men, women, and children gone, obliterated, just like that. And instead of getting him off, I made sure he was found guilty, got the death penalty, and was sent straight to Hell, just for good measure.

I figured they'd fire me at the very least. Maybe--probably--send me to Hell to keep the client company. Yet here I sit, in a comfy corner office, with a fat raise and the partnership I'd always coveted.

Were they testing me? And did I pass--or fail? Reward? Or punishment?

I'll probably never know.


Better? Worse? This is a dumb idea, what am I, on crack?

I'm also thinking about a "demon hunter encounters dinosaur" drabble, basically condensing my Xander-in-Congo story down. Because, damb, but I love that story beyond all reason and would love to see at least the concept get wider play.

Giant bugs? What giant bugs? Was I supposed to stick an END on that today?
agilebrit: (Default)
This is a hundred and fifty words. Which means, to fit it all, it has to be in size 7 font. Which, UGH.

Working at the firm we not-so-jokingly call "Beelzebub's Barristers," you'll eventually encounter the line you refuse to cross. I'd never had qualms about getting terrible people out of big trouble; that's what lawyers do, although usually on a smaller scale than ours.

But this client destroyed an entire city, and laughed while he did it. Over a million men, women, and children gone, obliterated, just like that. And instead of getting him off, I made sure he was found guilty, got the death penalty, and was sent straight to Hell, just for good measure.

I figured they'd fire me at the very least. Maybe--probably--send me to Hell to keep the client company. Yet here I sit, in a comfy corner office, with a fat raise and the partnership I'd always coveted.

Were they testing me? And did I pass--or fail? Reward? Or punishment?

I'll probably never know.


Better? Worse? This is a dumb idea, what am I, on crack?

I'm also thinking about a "demon hunter encounters dinosaur" drabble, basically condensing my Xander-in-Congo story down. Because, damb, but I love that story beyond all reason and would love to see at least the concept get wider play.

Giant bugs? What giant bugs? Was I supposed to stick an END on that today?

Gah.

Feb. 10th, 2008 11:27 am
agilebrit: (Default)
Back to the drawing board on the drabble. The Hubby had a sort of "eh" reaction to it, and [livejournal.com profile] ericjamesstone rightly pointed out that it's really too vague to be effective.

And I tend to agree. Something like this needs to either make the reader laugh, or be a gut-punch. This is neither. It's okay, but it's not great.

I used to be the Drabble Queen. I once cranked out thirty drabbles in a week. I can do this.

Gah.

Feb. 10th, 2008 11:27 am
agilebrit: (Default)
Back to the drawing board on the drabble. The Hubby had a sort of "eh" reaction to it, and [livejournal.com profile] ericjamesstone rightly pointed out that it's really too vague to be effective.

And I tend to agree. Something like this needs to either make the reader laugh, or be a gut-punch. This is neither. It's okay, but it's not great.

I used to be the Drabble Queen. I once cranked out thirty drabbles in a week. I can do this.

DRABBLE!

Feb. 10th, 2008 12:34 am
agilebrit: (Default)
I stole this idea blatently from [livejournal.com profile] ericjamesstone. He's got a (brilliant and hilarious) short story on the back of his business cards, and I wanted to do the same thing for mine.

Of course, coming up with an original drabble is tough. So I decided to poke through my old ones and see if I couldn't modify one enough so that it wasn't fandom-specific. And I think I succeeded. Try this on for size:

Everyone has a line they won't cross. Working at the place we not-so-jokingly call "Satan's Solicitors," you'll encounter that line, eventually. You can't avoid it. I've got no qualms about getting terrible people out of big trouble; that's what lawyers do, though usually on a smaller scale than ours. Until now.

My line got crossed, and I rebelled. But you know what? Even at this moment, I don't know if they were testing me--or whether I passed or failed. They gave me the office, the money, and the partnership I'd always coveted. Reward? Or punishment?

I'll probably never know.


Does this hang together okay? I know who I'm referring to here. Do you? And if you do, does it matter, or am I vague enough as to the particulars?

And yes, it's exactly a hundred words. What do you take me for?

DRABBLE!

Feb. 10th, 2008 12:34 am
agilebrit: (Default)
I stole this idea blatently from [livejournal.com profile] ericjamesstone. He's got a (brilliant and hilarious) short story on the back of his business cards, and I wanted to do the same thing for mine.

Of course, coming up with an original drabble is tough. So I decided to poke through my old ones and see if I couldn't modify one enough so that it wasn't fandom-specific. And I think I succeeded. Try this on for size:

Everyone has a line they won't cross. Working at the place we not-so-jokingly call "Satan's Solicitors," you'll encounter that line, eventually. You can't avoid it. I've got no qualms about getting terrible people out of big trouble; that's what lawyers do, though usually on a smaller scale than ours. Until now.

My line got crossed, and I rebelled. But you know what? Even at this moment, I don't know if they were testing me--or whether I passed or failed. They gave me the office, the money, and the partnership I'd always coveted. Reward? Or punishment?

I'll probably never know.


Does this hang together okay? I know who I'm referring to here. Do you? And if you do, does it matter, or am I vague enough as to the particulars?

And yes, it's exactly a hundred words. What do you take me for?

Drabbles!

Jun. 5th, 2006 09:55 pm
agilebrit: (Default)
Um, sort of. Two of them are actual drabbles. Remember my call for prompts because of my little flamer? Well, I've cheated a bit and combined a couple of the prompts, but...eh. I have a ficathon entry to work on, and another one to figure out a title and summary for.

Anywho. Fic. Yeah.

Cecropia Moth )

Rabbit Season )Movie Night )Games )Lure )

Drabbles!

Jun. 5th, 2006 09:55 pm
agilebrit: (Default)
Um, sort of. Two of them are actual drabbles. Remember my call for prompts because of my little flamer? Well, I've cheated a bit and combined a couple of the prompts, but...eh. I have a ficathon entry to work on, and another one to figure out a title and summary for.

Anywho. Fic. Yeah.

Cecropia Moth )

Rabbit Season )Movie Night )Games )Lure )

agilebrit: (Zoe On Crack)
for [livejournal.com profile] open_on_sunday. Go, me.

Title: Just Another Day at Hell, Incorporated
Author: babies stole my dingo (agilebrit)
Fandom: Angel
Rating: G
Length: Drabble (100 words)
Disclaimer: Joss is the genius behind these characters; I am but a lowly follower. I make no money from any of this, so please don't sue me.
Written for: [livejournal.com profile] open_on_sunday's "Office Supplies" challenge.
Notes: Eh, it was funnier in my head. Oh well.


Angel walked into his office, ready to start another day. A sticky note in the middle of his desk read: "Team Meeting, 9:30." Wes had some ancient document he needed help translating; Gunn had a client he was antsy about. Lorne wanted to talk to him about a movie script some Hollywood guy wanted to pitch for a failed TV series (Joss? Joss who?). And Fred wanted some uber-complicated piece of mystical scientific equipment, which Angel didn't even want to try to comprehend.

He grabbed a pen, started making notes--and noticed that the ink was lavender and sparkly.

"Spike!"
agilebrit: (Zoe On Crack)
for [livejournal.com profile] open_on_sunday. Go, me.

Title: Just Another Day at Hell, Incorporated
Author: babies stole my dingo (agilebrit)
Fandom: Angel
Rating: G
Length: Drabble (100 words)
Disclaimer: Joss is the genius behind these characters; I am but a lowly follower. I make no money from any of this, so please don't sue me.
Written for: [livejournal.com profile] open_on_sunday's "Office Supplies" challenge.
Notes: Eh, it was funnier in my head. Oh well.


Angel walked into his office, ready to start another day. A sticky note in the middle of his desk read: "Team Meeting, 9:30." Wes had some ancient document he needed help translating; Gunn had a client he was antsy about. Lorne wanted to talk to him about a movie script some Hollywood guy wanted to pitch for a failed TV series (Joss? Joss who?). And Fred wanted some uber-complicated piece of mystical scientific equipment, which Angel didn't even want to try to comprehend.

He grabbed a pen, started making notes--and noticed that the ink was lavender and sparkly.

"Spike!"
agilebrit: (Default)
Title: Feigenbaum
Author: babies stole my dingo (agilebrit)
Fandom: Angel
Rating: G
Length: Drabble (100 words--down from 145)
Disclaimer: Joss is the genius behind these characters; I am but a lowly follower. I make no money from any of this, so please don't sue me.
Written for: [livejournal.com profile] open_on_sunday's "Inanimate Object" challenge.


She gave me life the day she named me. "The Master of Chaos." I've been with her through everything. She'd hold me and cry when the popular girls teased her--and then she'd flounce over to her desk, mutter "I'll show them," and get a perfect score on the next test, spoiling the curve for them.

She took me to college...and disappeared. When she came back, she hugged me really hard. I'd missed her too.

Now? Wesley's putting me in a box with the rest of her things. He's very sad.

I don't think she's coming back this time.

agilebrit: (Default)
Title: Feigenbaum
Author: babies stole my dingo (agilebrit)
Fandom: Angel
Rating: G
Length: Drabble (100 words--down from 145)
Disclaimer: Joss is the genius behind these characters; I am but a lowly follower. I make no money from any of this, so please don't sue me.
Written for: [livejournal.com profile] open_on_sunday's "Inanimate Object" challenge.


She gave me life the day she named me. "The Master of Chaos." I've been with her through everything. She'd hold me and cry when the popular girls teased her--and then she'd flounce over to her desk, mutter "I'll show them," and get a perfect score on the next test, spoiling the curve for them.

She took me to college...and disappeared. When she came back, she hugged me really hard. I'd missed her too.

Now? Wesley's putting me in a box with the rest of her things. He's very sad.

I don't think she's coming back this time.

agilebrit: (Default)
Title: Abandoned Instrument
Author: babies stole my dingo (agilebrit)
Fandom: Angel
Rating: PG
Length: Drabble (100 words)
Disclaimer: Joss is the genius behind these characters; I am but a lowly follower. I make no money from any of this, so please don't sue me.
Written for: [livejournal.com profile] open_on_sunday's "Beatles" challenge.
Notes: Inspired by "While My Guitar Gently Weeps." Takes place during "Dead End."


Lindsey opened the closet door and saw his guitar sitting against the wall, seeming to stare at him accusingly. "It's not my fault, okay?" he muttered, taking down a shirt and jacket one-handed--because he only had one hand. His stump itched as he fitted the prosthesis on, reminding him of why he hated Angel and stiffening his resolve to bring the vampire down.

The next morning, he flexed his new fingers and took the guitar out, sat on the bed, and strummed the strings. He could have sworn the instrument was glad to see him. "Hey, there, old friend."
agilebrit: (Default)
Title: Abandoned Instrument
Author: babies stole my dingo (agilebrit)
Fandom: Angel
Rating: PG
Length: Drabble (100 words)
Disclaimer: Joss is the genius behind these characters; I am but a lowly follower. I make no money from any of this, so please don't sue me.
Written for: [livejournal.com profile] open_on_sunday's "Beatles" challenge.
Notes: Inspired by "While My Guitar Gently Weeps." Takes place during "Dead End."


Lindsey opened the closet door and saw his guitar sitting against the wall, seeming to stare at him accusingly. "It's not my fault, okay?" he muttered, taking down a shirt and jacket one-handed--because he only had one hand. His stump itched as he fitted the prosthesis on, reminding him of why he hated Angel and stiffening his resolve to bring the vampire down.

The next morning, he flexed his new fingers and took the guitar out, sat on the bed, and strummed the strings. He could have sworn the instrument was glad to see him. "Hey, there, old friend."

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