Magenta Monster

A lovely exercise to get the creative juices flowing is to get a money box and turn it into a story box. Set it up on a shelf or table with strips of paper and pens, then when ever someone visits your house get them to write a sentence down and to post it into the box. At the end of the year or when it is full, open it and look at what is written.

You may find the sentences want to all fit together in a nice way or they may seem like they could never possibly belong in the same story. Your challenge is to make them fit into one story, arrange the strips into three piles, your beginning, middle and end.

Now start writing 🙂

‘When they begged for mercy I cut them to shards a piece at a time. You ask what I feel about the monstrous actions I took and I tell you sir that they were not monstrous but beautiful and just.

How dare you speak of mercy and torture – You who have glued my face back together, showing the crazy paving cracks. I wish that you had shown mercy and let me bleed out there in the chamber of my alteration and vengeance. That you chose to reconstruct me in the image they made, tells me that I do not want to be part of this world.

They grafted porcelain to my bone, burnt off my skin, a millimetre at a time, they paralysed me but gave no pain relief, singing the nerves so they would feel no more eventually so that my body remembered the pain. They simple stopped me from feeling anything new. There is no distraction.

No one will kiss this cheek, it is a mockery of me. Smooth as you’ve made it, as smooth as they made it. They painted it with the blue willow pattern, glazed me under a blow torch that melted my retina, and they called me Doll.

I sense you there and I know you can not understand why I smashed my face and cut them with each sharp fragment of self, stripping the skin as if I meant to make ribbons from them. But think on this – I was once a daughter, of people like you. If I survive your verdict, which I beg the universe I do not, I can not ever hope to see my family again. I would be a living nightmare for who could love the smashed doll?

:: archive entry, judge found The Doll guilty but due to her suffering ordered a quick execution. Morning January 25th. However the alteration of her body was more extreme than we had realised and it was found we could not kill her. We could smash glass bones and porcelain skin but somehow she was still there. Out of pity we reconstructed what we could, and placed her in the custody of The Island. There she was placed in our Unearthly Weapons Campaign. For more information see file Twisted Doll ::

I’m sharing this picture so that other writers may use it as writing inspiration. Look at the picture for a while, what is the story behind it? Is it magical? Just lights for decoration? What happens under their glow?

More pictures can be found at Salaric Photography.

IF you are stuck for a writing idea grab the nearest book to you and play a little writing game. Open it at random and write down the words that start each line on that page.

Now you have a list of words like this:

go

but

to

Peter

be

sweaty

he

ran

belch

of

horrid

Miss

No

Sick

this

and

definitely

You can remove repeats or made up objects/names that are specific to the story.

There are several things you can now do with this list to get yourself writing. The first is what I call the dot to dot method – you start with a sentence containing the first word, then you write until you can include the next word and the next. Often with this exercise you can find yourself writing away having forgotten the list! If this happens be really happy, do not try and make yourself stick rigidly to the list.

Secondly you can do response writing from each word. Set yourself a timer and do five minutes on each, from these writings you may find the gem of a story – go with it 🙂

Or you could pair up words like – sweaty Peter – who is sweaty Peter? Why is he sweaty. Make character profiles of the names in the list – write their story.

My dreams were weird and chaotic, a hunger burned within me and shadows of memory stirred within but I could not catch.

My dreams were not good, I stabbed my father with a chisel and buried all the small bodies who writhed and cried and called out to me. I was drenched in ice and then in fire and my bones pulsed with the pain of metamorphosis, it was as if all the Suma were there within my body, consuming my mind with their needs. I must have called out as I was shaken awake by my lecturer he looked concerned.

I smiled weakly at his concern but knew that my purples would be pinched and pale, it was dark and the air heavy, I stretched and considered our next move. We sat drinking stim and thought on checking out the world beyond our metal box.

‘We are of course basically trapped in here,’ he said gently. I nodded and stood motioning him to silence whilst I listened to the world outside. I could here nothing but the dripping of water and the gentle snoring of the sleeping bodies.

‘I want the mission for today, if we can manage to stay alive, to be building a look out hatch,’ I was startled at how clear and authoritative I sounded, of course we would need to start digging our way out too but I was starting to formulate a plan on that one too. People were beginning to awaken at my words.

The medic made sure everyone ate and then it was time to try our luck in the dark cavern beyond. I was going to go first but my lecturer stepped in and insisted that I stand back, ‘you are our leader – with you an attack is a set back even if I am lost but if you go first and are lost this lot will fall to pieces.’ I wanted to argue but he was right.

I felt sick with the tension as I awaited for the moans and scream, but we were lucky and the Cavern was clear, there was little chance it would remain like that for long. We shot out to the other containers removing tools and metal and I sent my lecturer off once more to fetch the water we needed.

We had only split into two groups though knowing that we needed to maintain a guard at all times – a lesson learnt form the mine and Anchor’s accident with the crate of tins the day before. My nerves were on fire as I piled equipment into the container. I was wondering how, by the everliving, we were going to cut through the metal roof of the container when My lecture returned from fetching the days water. Once again he was splashed with the yellow ooze and I found it hard to meet his eyes knowing they had had to dispatch yet another reanimate.

I have a suspicion that it was our light and warmth that were attracting the things, in which case we really didn’t have a lot of time before they would once again be upon us. On the other hand we now had the whole group back together making hunting the supplies easier. The chances of finding a working arc welder were remote and I was at a loss to how we would puncture a look out point on the container roof. The danger that would put the group in every ‘morning’ was not something we could sustain. Also I had specific plans on how we were to escape and it meant having someone working around the clock and for that we needed roof access.

We were steadily busting open all of the containers, a lot of stuff had been ruined but no where near the amount I had feared. If we could get roof access from within then we were in a strong position.

I walked along the busted opened metal rectangles and examined the hammer blows and how they had buckeled the sturdy stuff, then the scratches and dents cased by the various crow bars and chisels we had used.

‘Is there any of the hammer jacks about’ I asked trying to contain the bubble of hope within myself.

A clatter of tools bouncing on the calcified cavern floor interrupted my grand plans, I turned chisel spear in hand to see, not just one or two but… well I couldn’t count them. I didn’t have to shout, we were all heading back to the container as fast as we could, if we couldn’t close it before they reached us, if they had any intelligence left.. we were dead.

I threw myself through the door and did a quick count, we were all in, the door slide into place and we braced it. Something hard and heavy hit the door, but it only bowed very slightly. We were trapped, would they go away? Would they forget what they couldn’t see?

More importantly were they capable of using the tools, we had scattered, to break in. I was breathing fast and shallow, I couldn’t stop looking at the door, wondering how long we had. I jumped at a clang, so rich and vibrant I thought they had broken through, instead one of the women had hit her head into the wall. ‘We’re going to die!!!” she cackled and did it again, a responding thump shock us from the out side, thwack she went a third time.

‘Stop her!’ I cried, ‘it’s reminding them we are in here!’

Two of the others had to physically restrain her, but she was shouting and screaming and laughing manically.

‘Now what?’ the medic asked.

‘Sudate her!’ I hissed.

She raised her ear flaps in startlement, ‘but if they get in..’

‘Just do it, I doubt she would fight anyway.’ the medics ears drooped but she nodded and moved off to the hysterical woman.

I closed my eyes to rest my brain from the reality for a moment, the mantra, ‘what am I going to do…’ bubbled around and around my head until I remembered the calming leadership training my father had insisted I have.

I looked at the huddle of survivors, there were faint scrapings and thumps on the exposed walls of our little cell but it seemed to be holding – we just had to hope they would forget us.

The creatures fur was fully gone and in it’s stead a strange shiny scaliness. It was bigger and tougher looking. I didn’t have time to think as I dashed forward but my weapon just glanced off of the armour and I skittered wide, I turned back in time to see it closing in on the other woman who was crippled from dropping the crate of tins on herself, we were not trained soldiers non of us where, though I as a child of the council had had many defence classes and the such like. I swung the stick bringing it in contact with the creatures head, the jolt of impact jarred me so painfully that I staggered back whilst it was only shuffled slightly to the side.

I thought I was about to loose the first of the fifteen in my care but the woman picked up the crate once more and with her large girth threw it at the monstrosity. It smashed into the thing causing it to loose it’s balance, a sickening crack made me think that perhaps it’s chest had caved in. I swore as I saw it push the crate off of itself and begin to rise again.

Yellow blood, thick and gelatinous from a puncture wound, oozed. The corner of the crate had done it work but it still kept on as if nothing had happened. Screaming the woman – Anchor (for I was only just remembering their names) began scoping tins that had rolled around her feet, chucking them at the reanimate. I removed the climbing knife from my belt and rushed forward, I’m not sure I really thought of a plan as such there wasn’t a blinding flash of an idea just a vague shape of something and I didn’t really know what was until I jumped on the things back. I hugged on tight trying not be thrown off, I had one arm wrapped around it’s throat but that was doing nothing with the armour plating, I reached round with the knife and plunged it into it’s eye socket, I felt the resistance of the blade and then the sleek smooth sensation as it slide into the softer flesh of the orb and then it snicked on bone.

I didn’t process any of this at the time, it would occur to me in shuddering moments through the next few days. Anchor broke the creatures teeth by ramming a tin in it. I dropped inelegantly from its back as it staggered around the injuries becoming too much for it. It toppled over comically, straight backwards, I felt the hysteria rising within me once more.

We were both manically giggling when the others finally came round the corner from the head quarters container – in truth the fight must have taken moments but it had felt like a very long time and a flash of a second at the same time.

Once we had calmed down we performed the right and sat Anchor down to check her mangled foot, it wasn’t as bad as it could have been as she had been wearing relatively sturdy shoes,

Then we all ferried crates of tins into our container until we had a wall of food. The others had found lighting and bedding when they returned and one of them was desperately trying to get a flood damaged generator working. I was I confess surprised by all the things we had been able to salvage.

I was desperately trying to clean my climbing knife when my lecturer and the others returned with a few canisters of water – not as much as I would have expected.

‘We lost two canisters,’ he shrugged seemingly out of sorts.

‘We had to fight two! TWO!’ cried on of the larger males of the group.

‘At the same time,’ squeaked the thin pale weeper. I nodded mutely, they seemed energised but I know there was only a matter of time before one of us was killed and then what? How would they react to that?

‘Well done,’ I managed and then stood and looked at the edge of the lamp light – I wasn’t sure but I thought that perhaps there was movement out there.

‘I think we should get in and rest whilst we can,’ my lecturer nodded and I followed them in with one last glance around and there just coming into the lamp light was a jerking figure, an arm jutting at a strange angle from it’s side. I shut and bolted the door and killed the outside light, what remained of intelligence in the reanimates? Animals soon worked out that bins meant food, that signs of people meant food – surely we were living on borrowed time.

I did not say anything but rather instructed the preparation of food, it was a strange mix we had as the tins were what ever we had chanced upon first. No one complained and we ate in companionable silence. We were all pretty tired but I took first shift on look out. I doused the lights as gentle and not so gentle snores filled the air. We were safe for the time being but we would need to make some sort of trap door in the container so we could check from the top if we had the all clear – as it stood as soon as we were all rested and fed we would have to open the doors to the dark cavern beyond and just hope there was not a horde out there awaiting us.

I sat and planned – there were other containers to bust open and I needed to see exactly how much water there was and the trap door and then of course we would need to work out the best plan for getting us out of here. I swallowed nervously – we had to get.

The medic had made stim to drink but it was rationed to those who were sitting up doing the watch – I sipped my gratefully and awaited my lecturer, he nodded at me and sat down with his fresh stim some hours later and I gratefully slipped into his now vacant covers to sleep. Sleep didn’t come as readily as I had hoped but eventually I was drifting and a deep fatigue seemed to consume me.

Here is a wonderful free tool for writers – it is a writing challenge generator by Seventh Sanctum.

Just follow the link and it takes you to a page where you can decide on what them you want for the challenge. You can then decide on how complex or long you want it. This sort of tool is fantastic for getting you writing in the first place or after a bit of writers block!

Check it out and I hope you find it useful 🙂

Sometime writing can seem souless and pointless and it is at this point that you need to have someone to write for. I have found writing for somebody to be a good way to break out of this trap – I even used to make little booklets with hand drawn characters for my little girl – this was the origin of the Little Books I’ve been working on. But emailing a friend can work just as well – I have several stories that were written not for publication but for friends or family – normally sent to them in bit sized chunks.

Of course my blogs are sort of an extension of this too – but more on that later.

I am here, I AM here, can you not hear? Few do, explorers come and go, not realising that when they rest on the ice bed – they rest above my bones. I am old now but my face is locked in youth, pale skin, translucent, tinged with the cold that surrounds me. I am here!

My lips need warmth, they have yearned for soft warmth, for now they are hard curves made of water stone and I am HERE.

I stare up through the layers, a distorted world I see, deep blue as the ice steals the red from the light and the sky is a prism so deep my mind swims in thoughts. It can do nothing else as I am here.

It may have been my eyes that started it, so pale, blue and blue and blue like the caves that are whittled in the glacial wall. Or was it my hair? White at birth, the snows claimed me as their’s. I was born on the flow, born into the glacier’s maw. Ice princess.

I will always be the Ice Princess, I am here! I am always here, I AM HERE. I call to you with my mind, they said that I could do that but you hunters, you explorers you do not hear, you never hear. Never ever hear, that I am here.

The ice from between the stars has lodged within my breast and I choke upon the thoughts of eternity, why can you not hear – I am here.

I am dressed as I’ve been dressed for ages gone, white and silver, flowing, the effect of snow angel marred only by my blood. I never finished bleeding out my life and I await my resurrection in the Hunting Halls. Death does not hear me either.

The ice loves me and keeps me whole, but my life flow can not be put back threw the hole they put in my skull. I am here.

Why do you not hear?

I AM HERE

This is a picture of plants growing high up on a building – writers are welcome to use it as writing inspiration 🙂