Writing Exercise #2

February 2012
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Jul 29

Writing Exercise #2

Ok, this time I’m giving myself a similar assignment, except this time I’m writing what happens next, with little to no reference as to what has already happened. We’re just getting plunked into the middle of the story.

And for some extra flavor, I’m going to try it in 1st person, too… I’m also going to upload a copy of the photo, rather than a link so that it doesn’t get lost in the Internets. Once again fair warning – this may suck. It’s late, I’m tired, and I won’t be spending much time on this. It’s just practice to make sure I’m writing as often as I can manage.

I really hope I’m not squeezing too hard. With all the adrenaline pumping through me right now, I didn’t realize how hard I was holding their hands. We’ve formed a big line down the slope to the river, hand in hand. I feel like one of those monkeys from that old barrell-o-monkeys game. I probably look like one too, right now, bright colors and all.

My buddy, Rob, is behind me. I don’t care so much about him – he’ll live – it’s the girl in front of me I’m worried about. I don’t really know her and she’s kind of cute. I’d hate to put her off by crushing her fingers. Not that I can make a good impression smelling like a boxer after a fight, and wrapped up in this oh-so-sexy life preserver. At least I’m not wearing the pink helmet. I made sure Rob got stuck with that one.

I relax my grip a bit and do my best to give her a smile when she looks back. "You ready for this?" I ask her excitedly, making sure my muscles are still flexed; partially to impress and partially to provide an explanation for the stale sweat smell.

She throws me back a calm smirk and asks "Are you?". I had to pause for a second and figure out what just happened. All I saw as I came to my senses were her banana yellow "aqua-socks" disappearing in a spray of foam, quickly reappearing to chase her bobbing helmet through the rocks and out of sight.

"Your turn, ace. You buckled?" It was our bald-headed guide, Doug. He’s so laid back, I’d almost forgotten he was with us. I watched him sitting on one of the big rocks, feet dangling just above the water, completely fearless of the rabid, churning maelstrom just inches below his toes.

Just to be sure, I take a quick glance down and tug on the straps. Life vest is good, and I can already feel that the helmet is secure. If he didn’t need to hang on to me, I know Rob would have taken the opportunity to smack my helmet, so I spare a quick, dirty look for him before giving the thumbs-up. "Locked and ready to rock!".

Doug causually invites me into the river with a sweep of his hand. I can’t tell for sure, but it looked like he almost laughed. I’m not worried, though. I’m gonna make this river my bitch. I envision myself hurtling down the river, skillfully dodging the rocks at the last second. And of course catching up with that girl. Was her name Ashley?

I’ll just have to find out later. Right now, it’s go time. To emphasize this, Rob releases his grip. "Time to fly, Mary!" Having been hanging onto him, I hadn’t steadied myself yet. I stumble to get my feet under me before I run out of dry land, and at the last instant manage to shove down hard against the ground and launch myself out over the water.

I remember what the guide had warned us about letting our feet hit bottom, so I twist mid air and land on my back. The water doesn’t do much to soften the landing, and I am only able to grab a quick gulp of air before my head is covered. But it’s an equally short time before I break the surface again and shake off the foam. At first, all I can see is shapes and colors, but after a few seconds I pick out Rob’s pink helmet chasing me downstream and am able to orient myself again.

I turn and point my feet out in front of me – this isn’t something I want to do head first. Taking a minute to look around, I realize that I’m not going as fast as I thought I would be. And there’s certainly not as many rocks to avoid. My heart is still pumping, thumping my ears louder than the water breaking on the rocks, but it’s starting to settle down. It’s atually kind of peaceful, and I find myself watching the trees and the clouds while alternating between deep thoughts, and no thoughts at all.

Then one thought crops up that doesn’t slide away with the current. It’s that girl and her smug little smirk (or at least, that’s what I’ve convinced myself it was). She knew it wasn’t the roller-coaster type thrill ride that I’d worked myself up for. And I went and acted like an idiot. Oh well. Not the first relationship that ended before it began. As long as I’m here, I’ll just float along and enjoy it.

No sooner had I finally gotten her out of my head, than I get my head cracked against a rock. I didn’t see it coming, and a quick but short drop dunked me under and spun me sideways. Luckily the helmet absorbed most of it. "Son of a -" I begin to half chuckle, half curse, but am cut short when, as I’m attempting to right myself I get another rock to the ribs.

I choke and sputter and end up with a mouthful of water before, causing more choking and sputtering. Desperately, as panic begins to set in, I flail wildly, trying to get a grip on something. It feels like forever before I manage to get my hands on something solid. I grab on tight and pull myself towards the shore. It’s easier than I thought it would be to fight the current.

"Hell of a ride, eh cowboy?" By this point, I’ve got my chest up on dry land. I’m still coughing like hell, but I manage to choke it down. My lungs continue to fight me and I’m sure I sound like I’m sobbing, so I’m not sure it helped. As soon as I saw who else was there, though, I went right back to the coughing. It was that girl… "Ashley" she finishes my thought for me as she puts one hand in mine – the other, I realized, was on my shoulder already. "And you are?"

"Carl" I manage to cough out.

"Well, Ca-arl," she mocks me. Of course she mocks me, "How was it? Was it everything you expected?"

I muster all my strength to give her the best serious look possible while trying to stifle my coughing. "Actually" I wheeze out "it was really peaceful."

After that, we both started laughing, which of course ended in more coughing for me.

Jul 27

Writing Exercise #1

Short Stories, Writing No Comments »

In order to work on my writing, I’m going to start doing some exercises and trying to write often – even if what I write sucks (which I’m sure it will more often than not – especially late nights like tonight).

Tonight’s exercise: Go to www.flickr.com/photos/, find the first photo of a person, and write a brief story about what just happened to them, and what they’re going to do next. Here’s my photo:

Just like that, it was over. No screaming or drawn out arguments, just a note taped to the door, and even that was simpler than he expected. It should have been harder. There should have been a struggle.

But there wasn’t. Part of him was angry that he wasn’t even given the chance to fight for her. But he did have a chance. He’d had plenty of them. But despite knowing this day would eventually come, he did nothing. He couldn’t even gather the energy to form a tight fist before his fingers went flaccid. The wooden bench bit into his back, but he made no effort to move. His feet may as well have been glued to the floor.

He thought about that bench. They had had their first real conversation there. He remembered how the party raged on around them, but never intruded; like the eye of a hurricane. He remembered her smile, and how her face lit up. Nobody had ever been so interested in him, and he had never been able to talk to someone so freely and openly. Even in the middle of the crowd, as long as he was talking to her, they didn’t exist.

But that was then. Three months ago – had it really only been three? – he had been sitting in this exact same spot, but in a completely different place. He stared at the note on the door. He hadn’t read it yet. Didn’t need to: he knew what it said.

Without breaking his gaze, he took a sip from the bottle dangling precariously from his lifeless fingers. He barely noticed; It was almost reflex. But he caught himself and held the bottle out in front of him. That damned bottle.

Suddenly finding the strength he stood and whipped the bottle at the door. It exploded in a glittering shower of glass and cheap beer. Without breaking stride he shoved open the door and slammed it behind him. The ink ran down the now shredded paper like tears. There was going to be quite a mess to clean up in the morning.

Nov 30

The Hunter’s Journal: First Day Alone

Short Stories No Comments »

Here’s a short story I wrote a few years back based on the first time I struck out on my own in the woods. It’s pretty much all true, to the best of my memory, anyways.

I wrote it because one of my favorite parts of hunting with my family, is the stories we share afterwards. I wanted to capture some of those stories to share my experience with others.

We reached the tree line just as the first hint of sunrise could be caught on the horizon. The sky there had begun to warm from black to grey. Once we stepped into the forest, however, night had returned. From there I followed my father as best I could. For a man much older and heavier than I, he made good time when in the woods. In fact, he started to get ahead of me. He picked his way up the hill with silent, steady strides while I stumbled over the unseen obstacles that he somehow avoided. He didn’t get very far ahead before I couldn’t see him anymore. The silhouette that I had been following had faded and blended with the rest of the forest’s shadows. I stopped, hoping to see movement against the black and grey. But there was nothing; not even a sound. In fact, the longer I listened, the more I noticed how silent it was. There were no cars passing by. No TVs or radios in the background. No running water or muffled voices. It was pure silence. We were completely within the forest, and it was still asleep.

I reached into the pocket of my orange hunting vest. The color was only barely visible in the growing light of morning. That was an indication of just how little light there really was, since this vest very nearly glowed in the dark. But my thoughts didn’t linger there long. I soon had my flashlight in hand and turned it on, being careful to cover most of the lens, so that the only light shone just before my feet. I looked back up, trying to find my dad with what little light I had added to the dark forest. But the light I held actually made it harder to see at a distance. So I shut it off and looked again.

Then I saw another light flash in response to mine not far ahead, maybe twenty yards, and a little to the left. I followed the light, very aware of every little sound. Every twig that snapped or caught my jacket. Every heavy footfall and deep breath, was deafening. I cringed as I approached my father, trying my best to move in silence. Once I caught up he turned and began walking again. I caught a faint hint of a smile as he did so. He left his flashlight on, though covered as I had done with mine. We continued on, but every so often he would reach back and flash the light on some twig or log that I would have otherwise stepped on or tripped over.

We walked like that for what seemed like hours when finally we stopped. My dad turned and flicked his flashlight off. The sun had risen enough so that I could see his face, but it was only just bright enough to play tricks on your mind. Shadows blended with reality, and imagination brought shadows to life.

"OK, Son," he whispered, "your tree is up that way," he pointed up the hill and to my right, to which I nodded in reply. "And my blind is over here," this time he pointed to my left. I nodded again. I knew the way. I’d done it more times than I can remember, though today was the first time I went on my own. And it was still dark out. He proceeded to give me detailed directions to the tree I would be hunting from. My dad knew this forest better than his own home. Probably because in a way, it was also his home.

I nodded and turned, the determined look on my face wasted as it was lost in the shadows of the dawn. But before I could take a step, my dad laid a hand on my shoulder. "Good luck, Son." He said silently.

I turned and saw the glitter in his eye, and the crooked smile. I smiled back and shook his hand. "You too, Dad." I replied. I’d have given him a hug if we weren’t both holding guns. A handshake was good enough, though. With that he turned and disappeared once more into the shadows. I paused a moment before I started walking. I was painfully aware of how much louder and clumsier I was than him in the woods. But I picked my steps carefully in an effort to be more like him.

I had gone probably half of the way to my tree when my concentration was broken by the whimpering sounds of a coyote. I froze in my tracks and slowly turned my head in the direction of the sound. My hearing had always been my strong point in the woods. I was the ears and my dad was the eyes. But now I was alone, and I was blind. I heard more barking and snapped my head in that direction. I stood stone still, watching the woods for any signs of movement. They didn’t sound very close, but I didn’t want them coming much closer. I knew that they’d probably run away if they saw me, but I was still scared.

Careful to make little motion, I slipped my left hand into my pocket and closed my hand around one of the shotgun shells that I had in there. We never loaded our guns until we got to our spots. It was safer that way. Now I felt reassured. In my hand I held the power to kill. The power to stop and alter the course of nature. Not that coyotes were a threat, but the mind finds many dangers in the unknown. And the ghostly whimpering of the coyotes off in the darkness was more than enough to make my imagination run wild.

Confident once again I resumed my careful walk. The shadows just starting to separate from the trees as the sun approached the horizon. Light was slowly rolling over the hills and filtering through the forest. And as it did, the forest began to awaken. Branches shook off the thin blanket of the night’s snow. A few scattered birds warmed their voices. I even saw some squirrels scurry around the underbrush, searching for their winter stores. I felt myself waking along with the forest. Slowly the fog in my head cleared, and my fear was forgotten. I released my grip on the shell and took my hand out of my pocket to brush aside a branch.

But in all of this, I hadn’t realized that I’d lost my way. I paused and looked around. Nothing looked familiar in the early light. I noticed the creek, and knew that my tree was along it, but I wasn’t sure if I’d passed it yet or not. I scorned myself for not paying better attention as my eyes searched for something familiar. But a thin frosting of snow had changed the entire forest. I was sure that I would have noticed the tree if I had approached it. So I continued on up the hill, along the creek. This time I was more careful to keep my eyes open.

Eventually trusting my instincts paid off. I found my tree not much further up. My tree stood next to an old, knotted oak tree that we called simply ‘The Big Oak’. It was a small pine tree that had it’s branches weighed down to the ground. It made for a nice shelter, but provided a little too much cover on some sides. I watched a sigh drift away as I took a moment to rest. I knew I had to get settled in soon. The sun was almost up, and I wanted to be in place so I wouldn’t scare anything away.

I got to work almost immediately. I started by clearing an area to sit, and snapping a few obstructive branches. Once that was done, I put out some lure to cover my scent. I walked out twenty yards or so and made a wide circle, putting a few drops here and there. Once I was back at the tree I paused a minute to look around. I marked the spots that were clear, and where I could get a shot. I also marked the most likely directions that any deer would come from. I hadn’t seen any tracks while I was making my rounds with the lure, but it had just snowed the previous night. I knew they tended to come down the hill and head across the creek. So I situated myself so that I could both see and, if need be, shoot where I needed to.

Finally finished with preparations, I loaded the shells one by one into the shotgun. The metallic scraping, and mechanical clicking were sorely out of place in the forest morning. Once I was finished I sat and carefully placed the firearm across my lap. The shotgun was given to me by my father. It used to be his, but he had recently won a new one in a contest. So this was also new for me. I breathed in deeply, feeling as if I’d taken a few big steps towards adulthood that morning.

I leaned back against the tree, and slowly scanned the woods. I watched the animals wake up and go about their own daily hunt for food. Every so often the squirrels would play, and at first I’d perk up, thinking I heard a deer approach. But I’d laugh once I saw that it was just a couple of squirrels wrestling in the snow.

For the next few hours I watched the forest, taking in the details as I waited. I had a great appreciation for the forest. This was mostly due to my father. He loved the woods and shared that with me. For that I was grateful. There was nothing more beautiful and wonderful than nature. And sitting there, hidden beneath the trees, was one of the best ways to see it up close and untainted. Minute details and unseen dynamics became obvious after you had sat there for hours, studying it. It was also very comforting. A few times I caught myself falling into a light sleep. But my ears were still awake and searching. Any small sound would wake me, and I’d look around until drifting back into semiconsciousness.

Eventually I started to get hungry and decided it would be a good idea to eat one of the sandwiches I had brought. Even obscured by the grey winter clouds I could see that the sun was fairly high, though not nearly overhead. Luckily I had packed plenty of food. Two sandwiches, an apple, and a few granola bars. That would easily get me through to the afternoon. But right now I felt the pull of my stomach, and had to give in.

After a few careful visual sweeps of the forest, I slowly stood and withdrew the sandwich from my pack. As I stood there, nibbling, I continued scanning the forest. I didn’t really mind if something showed up. I’d probably just finish eating while I watched them go about their business. But nothing came by. At least, not until I had finished. Shortly after my small meal, however, I caught some movement near a small grove of pines directly across from me. I continued to stand, unmoving, while I watched the trees. Sure enough after a few minutes, a deer came out the other side. It’s head was down and it was searching for something to eat beneath the snow. I slowly reached over and picked up my gun, which I had left leaning against the tree.

As the deer approached I realized that I couldn’t get a clear shot. I had shouldered the shotgun and was gazing down the barrel, lining up the sights. Without dropping the barrel, I took a careful step to my left. Slowly, step by step, I made my way to the next tree. The deer had not noticed me, despite the fact that my breathing had become quicker, and my hands shook. I took a deep breath to try to calm myself. I couldn’t take the shot if I was shaking this much. It would be too much of a risk. But the adrenaline was circulating quickly thanks to my now rapid heartbeat.

I waited as patiently as I could. Hands shaking, I flipped off the safety. The deer was getting closer, and I needed to be ready when the shot presented itself. My hands shook more now, and my breathing was heavy and quick. A thin mist seemed to hang around my head. But I held my ground and kept the gun up, waiting. It was then that I noticed them. Two smaller deer had been following the first. Their heads down also, picking what was missed by the first deer. My heart sank. I reached up and flipped the safety back on. The switch clicked into place, and the lead deer’s head snapped up. She looked me straight in the eyes for a few long seconds. I didn’t move. I didn’t know what else to do. But she had figured it out. At least she figured out enough to know not to be there. With a snort and a stomp she twisted her body and bounded into the woods. In a few seconds the doe was nowhere to be seen. The fawns followed after a brief moment of confusion. I swear that I saw them exchange glances before following their mother.

Slowly I lowered the shotgun and set it against the tree. I was still shaking. It was time for a cup of hot chocolate. So I pulled out my thermos and poured a small amount into the cup. I watched it cool, and sipped carefully. This was very difficult, considering the amount of shaking my hands were doing.

By the time I had finished the cup, I heard more steps coming from the side. Again I paused, my heart resumed it’s quickened rhythm, and I slowly turned. But this time it was my father. I sighed deeply and watched him pick his steps without looking down. Soon he was beside me, and we chatted for a bit. I told him about the deer and he smiled. "Good thing you didn’t shoot." he said, "We don’t have any doe permits with us." He squeezed my shoulder, and I knew that wasn’t the reason it was good that I held the shot. I knew it as well as he did. I smiled and poured another hot chocolate as my dad poured a coffee. I looked out into the empty woods. It was hard to believe that something so empty held so much life. I smiled and glanced over to my father, who smiled back. I had taken my first steps on my own, but they followed his trail.

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