Sunday, March 29, 2015

Camp NaNoWriMo!

Yes indeed! J and I (Z) are embarking on Camp NaNoWriMo (T's busy) this April 1st for a voyage of words from the docks of Budding Creativeness, on which we will probably contract horrible seasickness and writer's block, but hopefully will sail straight and true to the shores of Deadline Completion.
(In other words, lets hope we finish.)
So, on the calends of April J will be trying out a new genre and writing a swath of Horror short stories including such things as dune-haunting wraiths and the Ungrateful Undead, which shall hopefully overhaul his goal of 30,000 words in one month!
I shall be writing the riveting tale of the Grimm Ledger, a book where the Brothers Grimm and other great story tellers first wrote down their tales, and if this ledger is opened and read, the fairy tales cannot be contained and will begin to recreate themselves in the modern world! This story will surely bring me to my goal word count of 25,000!
Tell us in the comments hat you think of our stories, and we'll see you at Camp!

Monday, February 9, 2015

LEVEL 0 INTERVIEW: A Novelica

There're Novels (love 'em), then their are Novellas, glorified short stories (love those too). And then there are Novelicas, an unusual breed of literature, these are the sort of stories you write in an hour, and edit in half, and then post on your blog as pointless filler. ignore that last part. Ahem.
But the story you're about to read is an example of that species of short stories so short they usual don't exceed single digits in pages. Hope you enjoy it!

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“Now Mr. Tung, I’m sure you know why you are here...”

“'Course I do, small cramped room, smelly metal walls, and you staring a hole in me, this is a magazine interview, obviously.”

“Very amusing, Mr. Tung; but unfortunately this is the much more serious kind of interview.”

“Hunting Quarterly?”

“I am surprised really, Mr. Tung, at your flippancy, I’d of though the handcuffs would stopper your, unique, attitude.”

“Stress always makes me smile.”

“I think we’ve had enough of this repartee, Mr. Tung, so getting down to business, are you or are you not going to answer my questions?”

“You haven’t given me much time to think this through.”

“You are chained to a chair, Mr. Tung; overall comfort is the least of our concern…”

“I’ll keep that in mind. But yes, I’ll go with you on the questions, though I can’t promise satisfactory answers, mind.”

“We can iron out any discrepancies after the initial interview.”

“You don’t do casual conversation well, do you?”

“That isn’t our policy, no, Mr. Tung, and now we’re going to record, and the questions will start.”

“I’ve always wanted to be studied closely.”

“Your full name is Antonin Draco Tung, is that correct?”

“I know that’s standard procedure, but it kind of hurts.”

“Answer simply and to the question, or you will be reprimanded, Mr. Tung.”

“Alright then, yes.”

“You are 19 years old?”

“Yes.”

“And you are the biological son of Miranda Dorkus Tung and Thomas Fafnir Tung, both deceased…ten years ago?”

“Yes…”

“Good; now, concerning the crimes.”

“Yes?”

“Do you admit to them being the reason for your confinement and this mandatory interview?”

“Remind me what I did again, it’s slipped my mind.”

“Breaking and entering into private space but, furthermore, assault and battery on the inhabitant.”

“What was the guy’s name? I’d like to thank him for false accusations.”

“Your victim was one Fabian Intendo, resident of #56 Maroon Rd. which you entered illegally early last night, and attacked Mr. Intendo, severely injuring him.”

“Did I break his arm or something? My eyes were closed at the time.”

“He was found severely contused and with seven fractured ribs, Mr. Tung, and I’m afraid denial won’t fit, as he made a positive ID on you twice over in the hospital.”

“Seriously speaking, haven’t you ever heard the word ‘lying’?”
“Why would he lie, no reason, from my point of view.”

“Yes, and from what I can tell, your point of view wouldn’t span a gnat’s—”

“Your frustration doesn’t fit well into your innocence.”

“I didn’t attack anyone, much less him!”

“In short, you deny the charges?”

“I’d do it at length, but you seem to prefer the short, ping-pong conversation.”

“Then that’s a ‘yes’. Very well, this interview has gone far enough fruitlessly. You will admit to your guilt, or I will have you forcefully detained and interrogated much less comfortably and far more forcefully!”

“I thought you’d snap sooner or later. Send in the next cop to try and squeeze a confession out of me.”

“Alright, blow this. Let’s be frank, Mr. Tung, you are facing life imprisonment at this charge, and if your previous offenses come through, even death row, so, please, can you drop the tough talk, I feel like I’m on CSI.”

“Hmm, your shell cracked a little more than hairline there, judge, do I see a personality revealed behind that magnificent façade?”

“Do you realize your literally digging your own grave by continuing on like this?”

“I think you’ve said that, albeit in different words, about five times in this interrogation; so far. Come on, go for six.”

“Mr. Tung—”

“Call me Antonin, might as well get to know each other better.”

“Mr. Tung, do you except and realize the charges and end possibilities of those charges if you are found guilty?”

“Back to the Q&A? Alright then, and yeah, I got all that.”

“Good, then, do you plead ‘innocent’ and ask for a court showing, or ‘guilty’ with the aforementioned consequences?”

“Lemme see, I was charged with breaking windows, kicking a guy in the ribs—ah--severely injuring him, sorry. But what are my previous offenses, I can’t remember much more than a few parking tickets and a few misunderstandings with a mime in the park…you see, when he was in that invisible box—”

“You were charged with drunken behavior in a bar ten years ago, where you injured several customers, all of whom charged you with assault, which does not support your denial of the attack on Mr. Intendo.”

“Oh yeah, that--and oh yeah him, too--When do I get to see my victim? I’d like to speak to him…”

“As I mentioned before, he is currently recovering in the hospital, where he is still accusing you in particular of his assault and the destruction of his belongings.”

“So, all in all I’m gonna be garroted if I don’t go to court for something I didn’t do.”

“Is that a statement or a question, Mr. Tung?”

“It’s a statement of fact and a question concerning the stability of our justice system, which seems a tad shaky from my point of view.”

“Very well; under the law, due to your pleading of ‘not guilty’—”

“Didn’t exactly plead…”

“—you will be assigned a court case and number, and when your number is called you will repeat your case against the assaulted Mr. Intendo, who we will allow two weeks to recover sufficiently to appear in court, where the final ruling will be decided by an impartial jury. Do you agree to this action?”

“Well, my hands are tied, aren’t they? They’re actually handcuffed, but never mind. Yes, I think those terms will do just fine. Do I get to choose my lawyer?”

“The judicial authority will assign you a defending lawyer.”

“Ixnay on that, then…”

“Our business is at an end, Mr. Tung, you will appear in court in two weeks time or possibly later, which will be the…15th of February. Thank you for your cooperation.”

“You’re very welcome, but I never got your name, I’d like to have something to think on in my cell. What is it?”

Standing up, the interrogator turned halfway towards the room’s door, then turned back, deciding.

“My name is Watson, Mr. Tung, James Watson Jr.”