Harry Writes Sometimes, It's True! Options

[Harryb412]

Thought I'd share some stuff.
A little project/writing challenge, stories/snippets that are exactly 100 words in length.

Ten Seconds.
Ten seconds on the clock and I’m wondering whether - nine - this is actually happening; not long on the squad - eight - and I’m already confronted with something as cliche as - seven - a bomb with an actual countdown. I’m half expecting - six - some sort of masked villain to enter the room - five - to announce his plan, but I don’t think he’d - four - have time for that. And now there are only three seconds left on the clock and I realize I’ve wasted - two - my final thoughts. I don’t even have any kick - one - ass final words. I hope someone remembers to feed the—-

Violent Altercation.
The young man thought it important to note that, despite his unfortunate appearance caused by a recent violent altercation, the fellow he fought with, an old friend until events that had recently transpired caused the relationship to turn sour, had been damaged far worse. Indeed, a crooked nose and swollen eye were nought compared to a cracked knuckle and broken thumb in his eyes. Though some may beg to differ had they been informed of the nature behind the young man’s assailant’s hand injuries, a powerful punch backfiring somewhat due to the attacker’s inexperience. Regardless, they both looked quite foolish.

Not You.
I feel obliged to put forward the assertion that the faults of our relationship were not your own, which is to say I object to the idea that you are to blame for our altercations; for I feel that I need to carry the burden of guilt. Indeed, life leads us down many paths and ours are simply diverging, again, not through fault of your own, but due to changes in my outlook of the world and growth as a person. That isn’t to say I’ve raised my standards. I simply mean to put forward that it’s me, not you.

[X-M-O]

It's great to see some written works by you, Harry. ^^
You've always been the witty one, lol. =]

I think Ten Seconds employs a very curious writing style, and the inclusion of the countdown as the thoughts transpire is brilliant.

I love how Violent Altercations ends, lol. Perfect. XD

Not You seems like an excuse for someone wanting to get out of a relationship, although I guess it's just a much more verbose version of "it's not you, it's me" conversation. It's neat though. =]

[Harryb412]

It's great to see some written works by you, Harry. ^^
You've always been the witty one, lol. =]

I think Ten Seconds employs a very curious writing style, and the inclusion of the countdown as the thoughts transpire is brilliant.

I love how Violent Altercations ends, lol. Perfect. XD

Not You seems like an excuse for someone wanting to get out of a relationship, although I guess it's just a much more verbose version of "it's not you, it's me" conversation. It's neat though. =]

Thanks!

And you are exactly right with Not You - it's a verbose play on the It's Not You It's Me cliche - recently I have been studying the late 1800s writing style and so it emulates that somewhat. Violent Altercation is in a similar vein - except with the You Should See The Other Guy cliche type trope thing.

[X-M-O]

Yeah, the 1800s writing style is definitely known for being verbose. XD

I'd love to see you write more of these trope things. =D

[Harryb412]

I did another 100 words thing but I don't think it's as good as the others:

Good Morning
Good morning, o’ apple of my eye, love of my life, lime of my… light? That’s not one, is it? I was on a roll then too. I hope you enjoy bacon because I’ve grilled way too much for just one sarnie – and you know I don’t eat much in the mornings. No, don’t worry about getting up – I’ll bring it to you, breakfast in bed! As if you have a choice, but it’s your own fault for trying to escape the other day. Maybe if you’re good today I’ll untie you. But only if you are good!

It also might not be 100 words in length because Microsoft Word often lies to me and I don't really feel like counting.

[X-M-O]

That's true! Microsoft Office commonly lies to me as well about word count! O_O
What is up with that? ><

Anyway, I though it was quite funny, especially at the end where it leaves you wondering who is tied up in the bed. XD

[markchapman10]

I did another 100 words thing but I don't think it's as good as the others:

Good Morning
Good morning, o’ apple of my eye, love of my life, lime of my… light? That’s not one, is it? I was on a roll then too. I hope you enjoy bacon because I’ve grilled way too much for just one sarnie – and you know I don’t eat much in the mornings. No, don’t worry about getting up – I’ll bring it to you, breakfast in bed! As if you have a choice, but it’s your own fault for trying to escape the other day. Maybe if you’re good today I’ll untie you. But only if you are good!

It also might not be 100 words in length because Microsoft Word often lies to me and I don't really feel like counting.

Good morning and ten seconds was my two favorites, at first I thought the character was being nice and making his wife some breakfast, then it quickly went to wife's bound by ropes and being held captive. Very nice.

[Harryb412]

That's true! Microsoft Office commonly lies to me as well about word count! O_O
What is up with that? ><

Anyway, I though it was quite funny, especially at the end where it leaves you wondering who is tied up in the bed. XD

I've found that it sometimes counts punctuation that isn't directly at the end of the word as a separate word. For example, in Ten Seconds Microsoft Word thought the " - " were separate words.


Thanks for the comments, guys!

[Harryb412]

HERE'S A LITTLE SOMETHIN' FOR YA.


Internet Police
A hatch slid open and from the ceiling a spinning, red light lowered. A dull alarm blared leaving no room in the building silent:

“CODE FOUR CODE FOUR”

The squadron rushed to mission control, one member typed frantically at a computer,

“We’ve got at least a level ten flame here.”

“A level ten? That guy definitely needs to be banned from the Internet.”

Another voice from across the room; “Someone else has posted! We could have a flame war on our hands!”

“Uh oh, we have some slight misogyny – looks like this is a job for the Social Justice League!”

[X-M-O]

If only... XD

Why "code four", by the way? 0.o

[Harryb412]

If only... XD

Why "code four", by the way? 0.o

Four is a cool number.
Code makes it sound somewhat authoritive.

Also: I posted something I wrote a while ago on my website, it's a pretty big wall of text so I'll only post an extract here:

I discovered the scene on a cold, wet Tuesday morning on the streets, at first I couldn’t believe my eyes, but that was likely due to the drizzling rain fogging up my glasses. I wiped my glasses on my trousers to clear them up and blinked in disbelief. A vibrant red sports car was parked on the dull double yellow lines.

A blatant disregard to justice.

The quiet scene was disrupted by a sudden voice,

“Should probably write them a ticket,” it was my partner, Erikson; he was tall, dark and not very handsome.

“I’m going to,” I replied quietly, concentrating on writing the ticket. To my dismay my ball-point pen wasn’t working, making faint imprints on the paper. “Do you have a pen?” I asked.

“Uh,” Erikson began to pat himself down, “I’m sure I did have one,” he checked his pockets – twice. “If I did have one, I don’t know. It might have fallen out of my pocket.” He checked his left pocket a third time. “Uh-huh, it definitely fell out, there’s a hole in this pocket.”

I cursed under my breath, at this rate the Double Yellow Offender would get off scot-free. On any other day he, or she for that matter, would, but this isn’t any other day. This is my day on the streets, and no violator of the law gets by on my watch.

Full version: http://www.goodluckcowboy.co.uk/writing/cold-hard-streets

[Harryb412]

I gone done wrote another short story.
Only a snippet here to avoid an unsightly wall of text:

It wasn’t entirely through circumstance that the Elegant Spy Mistress found herself in the home of an old flame. Though the word home seemed a bit too humble to describe such a location; the mansion was set atop a hill overlooking the city. It stood tall and imposing, the Host, of course, had the mansion built for that very purpose – he didn’t like to think of himself as some common thug, and such a grandiose display as his Mansion On The Hill helped to separate himself, at least in his own mind, from the city’s more shadowy characters.

Though the Host had invited the Elegant Spy Mistress to his dinner party as a social event, she was there strictly on business. The Host, however, was not the target, but that isn’t to say he couldn’t be a bonus. Everybody knew, or at least they thought they knew, of the origins of his riches, but one did not elevate to such a height as he did without knowing how to become somewhat untouchable by the authorities.

That night it was the No-Good Dirty-Rotten Smuggler that had caught the attention of spies and he was as slippery as the fish he used to hide the black-market weaponry with. Of course it should have been easy once his location was revealed, but it can only be assumed that the Host caught wind of the mission that he decided to change his plans from an intimate dinner party to a masked ball, with many more guests invited. None of which the Elegant Spy Mistress found particularly enjoyable company.

It was this series of events that had led to the Host and the Spy Mistress to be alone on the balcony overlooking the city once more. Though now there was no love lost between the pair. The Elegant Spy Mistress loathed the Host, he had, after all, broken her heart. Although he would argue that the harpy didn’t have one to begin with. What had started as bitter words shared between lovers scorned soon became quite a heated argument and ended with the Host having the larger half of his drink covering his face following a lewd request made towards the Spy Mistress.

The Elegant Spy Mistress cursed herself for wasting time on such trivial matters and returned to the “grand hall.” The No-Good Dirty-Rotten Smuggler was in here somewhere and the Spy Mistress, using all her powers of deduction, figured that it must have been the short man in the fish-mask who smelt like the sea. It was not a great disguise. Out from a hidden pocket concealed in her dress came a powerful revolver and before the smuggler could react a bullet had flew through his brain. A reckless move, she admitted to herself, before removing his mask to make sure she had hit the target.

Her powers of deduction had not failed her. She apologized to the guests for ruining the party, though some remarked that it had been the only interesting thing to happen all evening, and quickly left the building.

She was not, however, finished for the night.

http://www.goodluckcowboy.co.uk/writing/a-job-well-done