Nov 12, 2011

3 For Thursday Week 7 Vote for Your Favourite Entry

Here are this weeks entries.  Great week, three fantastic stories!

Blind Challenge
NaNoWriMo PARTICIPANT: From my NaNo Story, tentatively titled The Heart of a Demon. My main character, Leteh, is a demon who had been imprisoned for 3 centuries in stone atop a chapel because he'd fallen in love with a witch, Selena. When he is released after being hit by a stray spell during a battle between demons and witches, times have changed and Leteh must navigate a world he doesn't recognize in order to understand the war that is beginning and just what is at stake.

The Heart of a Demon
By @jend_author

“Have a seat, demon,” said the tavern keeper.

His eyes traveled over Leteh’s frame, reading his powers. It left Leteh feeling exposed and dirty. He heaved a sigh of disgust at the necessity for this meeting before squeezing his hulking frame into the chair.

“Wine?” the man asked, holding up an ancient bottle.

Leteh shook his head once, a grimace on his face.

“A shame.” The tavern-keeper sneered. “I’m told the malolactic fermentation in this vintage is to die for.”

“I’m sure,” Leteh grumbled, rolling his eyes at the man’s barely hidden innuendo. “Tell me what you know, Vidente.”


“So you know about us,” the man said, pulling up a chair opposite of Leteh.

The demon nodded, watching as the man lowered himself into the chair awkwardly.

“You can call me Del Cross.” He held out his hand which Leteh ignored. “I know about you.”

“Yes, everyone knows about me and my … sordid history.”

Del chuckled darkly.

“Where’s your witch now, eh?”

Time seemed to stand still as the tavern keeper’s chuckled died and Leteh’s red eyes blazed in anger. Del knew his mistake, and shrank back away from the demon’s rage.

“Tell me what you know. Now.” 

“You’ll have to be more specific than that,” Del insisted, earning a growl from the demon.

“I want details,” Leteh barked. “Who’ve you had contact with? What side are they on? And where will they strike next?”

The old man’s eyes grew hazy as he took in Leteh’s hulking form and fierce voice, but a smile grew on his face unexpectedly.

“You can keep up this travesty of an inquisition,” Del said slyly, “or you can just ask me your real question.”

Leteh’s face blanked for a moment as Del’s smile grew wider.

“Selena,” Del whispered.

Leteh knew he’d won.

Malolactic Hope
By Robert Hilliard @redshirt6

“'Malolactic',” he said again as he had been all morning. “'Mal-o-lactic'. Malo-lac-tic'.”

“What is your fucking problem, Haygood?” Sergeant Delane asked. At five feet tall with jet black shorter than his, she turned him on but good.

“It just sounds so, I dunno', sexy,” Haygood replied. “Heard it on a vid.”

Sergeant Delane glanced at him, slung her M16 over her shoulder and, in passing, grabbed Haygood's crotch.

“Just so long as you're thinking of me when you say it.”

“Wilco that, Sergeant,” he replied. “Wilco that.”

She smiled and kissed him.

When They Met

Whenever he stared into her eyes time seemed to stand still. 

It had been three months since he’d come south to Atlanta but the fighting was still going on. Private Haygood hadn’t planned on falling in love, but hey. Plans. 

They’d met in a bar brawl in a shanty set up in Piedmont Park. Everyone was drunk and he could tell the attraction was mutual. He bent over and kissed her, catching her off guard. That’s what started it. She’d kicked his ass but good.

She’d straddled him on the ground, boot knife at his throat, and kissed him back.


He was only private and she was an NCO, part of the chain of command. So technically they weren't supposed to be fraternizing. But this army, noble as its goals may be, is really just a travesty of a real army. 

"So Sergeant," he asked as she released his crotch, "what are you going to do when the fighting is over?" He hoped but didn't allow his mind to actually formulate what.

Sergeant Delane looked away for a moment and then looked back at him. 

"That's just it, see," she said. "I don't think the fighting will ever be over."

Classic Challenge
NaNoWriMo PARTICIPANT: Alana Bachman returns to a hometown she left as a small child when she inherits her grandparents' house in a sleepy New England town. As she adjusts to the peace of small town life, things begin to happen that make her question her sanity. Strange whispers and odd dreams haunt her as she finds out the truth about the accident that claimed her parents' lives when she was a baby and the danger that is around her now. With the help of her neighbor, David, Alana learns the truth about her family, about David's, and the power inside of her.

The Grapes of Wrath
By Miranda Gammella @MLGammella

Alana had been known to enjoy a fine bottle of wine from time to time, especially after a hard day. Nothing was harder than moving across the country to Wardville, ME to her grandparents’ old house. After all the boxes were open, the linens changed, and the house aired out, she aired out a bottle or two of her favorite pinot grigio. It did quite a bit to settle her nerves over the move and starting over.

When the voices and the whispering started, she found that a nice cabernet did the trick to drown them out. Somehow, the strange whispers and odd visions didn’t seem quite so scary when she enjoying the aftereffects of malomactic fermentation. Sharper flavored wines were all fine and dandy, but the smoother varieties created an effect she quite enjoyed: when time seemed to stand still.

That’s what made what happened next such a travesty.

Her time of enjoying nothing at all was cut short by the reappearance of the man who had been following her. Now, time seemed to mock her as things seemed to speed up just to slow down. Everything was distorted. The man seemed to rush towards her only to stop. Alana screamed, her voice broken and slurred, as she tried to get up and run or do anything to flee.

It seemed her favorite variety of fermented grape juice was seeking revenge on her. Alana stumbled and tripped, her face covered with tears, yet the man approached. She couldn’t see his face, but the blackness surrounded him and evil trailed in his wake.

Just as his cold yet burning hand caught her arm, she woke. Alana furiously looked down at her arm, only to find a burn in the shape of a handprint right where the man touched her.



Now, Get Your Votes In!

Polls close sometime on Monday(ish) Wednesday, due to Issues at pollcode messing up my poll
Week 7 Entries:
The Heart of a Demon By @jend_author
Malolactic Hope By @redshirt6
The Grapes of Wrath By @MLGammella free polls

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