tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post8875674242790619178..comments2024-03-18T09:09:59.625-04:00Comments on Janet Reid, Literary Agent: Writing contest!Janet Reidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00615380335938685231noreply@blogger.comBlogger57125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-39800506824664735662013-07-21T08:55:52.398-04:002013-07-21T08:55:52.398-04:00“Who are you?” the man screamed in my face.
I am ...“Who are you?” the man screamed in my face.<br /><br />I am James Lanham, undercover detective, but I wasn’t going to tell him. Tony Vanzetti was the target of my investigation. His breath smelled like a chicken coop, and I told him so.<br /><br />The backhand was swift. He smiled. I suggested he see a dentist for a full workup.<br /><br />“You think you’re a funny man?” Tony dug his claws into my still stinging cheek. “Let’s ratchet things up.”<br /><br />He raised a knife. I strained against my bindings then smiled.<br /><br />“What?” Tony asked.<br /><br />“Finally have you,” I said, “right where I want.”<br />William Colemanhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/06123281641123661576noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-31884306400368515942013-07-21T08:35:46.698-04:002013-07-21T08:35:46.698-04:00Coop sat in the mud and wiped at the blood on his ...Coop sat in the mud and wiped at the blood on his leg. He had been in worse situations, and was fully aware that this was survivable. He took off his belt and wrapped it around his thigh above the broken flesh where bone had escaped. He ratcheted it down, ignoring the pain, ignoring the lifeless woman face down in the runoff, ignoring the constant rain and the idea that they were still chasing him somewhere up there. He secured the belt and began the painful crawl back up the other side, away from pursuit, away from death. W. Scott Bowlinhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/06960073542858354652noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-319579749676171262013-07-21T08:21:07.239-04:002013-07-21T08:21:07.239-04:00Now the whole thing’s strictly tourist. Back when ...Now the whole thing’s strictly tourist. Back when it started, we filed claws razor-sharp and ratcheted-up birds with chili pepper and cocaine. Didn’t have fancy hen houses back then, either. Our coops were flat bed trucks full of cages. Called it death row. Lost some birds to the sun—people too, but the sun didn’t kill them. Hell, guns and drugs and booze were everywhere. Surprised more didn’t die.<br /><br />Won’t find any of that now. God damned shame if you ask me. God damned shame.Rick Andersonhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/04056568654507239730noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-43282566779981297462013-07-21T08:20:59.324-04:002013-07-21T08:20:59.324-04:00"Rachel, what are you doing?" the Fat ma..."Rachel, what are you doing?" the Fat man said.<br />"Consider her coopted," I said pushing her fully into the room, the gun now pointing at him.<br />"A robbery?" he scoffed.<br />"Claw back," I corrected. "You took Their cash, but did not deliver. Open!" I nodded at the safe.<br />He shrugged. I pointed the gun at the girl.<br />"Shoot her and alert security."<br />"Bastard!" she screamed, pulled the painting off the wall, breaking the ratchet, spun the combination, and opened the safe. She threw plastic packed bills on the table.<br />"Repayment in full," I agreed.<br />We escaped - together - through the window.richardhhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/13185041659054023609noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-41143292109931350392013-07-21T08:03:04.541-04:002013-07-21T08:03:04.541-04:00I looked down at the body. I was scared at what I ...I looked down at the body. I was scared at what I had done -- at what I'd been capable of doing. Ratchets weren't meant to be used that way. But he'd kept me cooped up in that room too long, clawed at me one time too many. I'd figured I'd pay him back in kind. Still, as I looked in the mirror, I could only see a murderer staring back at me.<br /><br />But the next day all the world would see as I stepped onto the field was just another fullback.furrykefhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/05850763050384056990noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-21899522238537561352013-07-21T06:23:06.879-04:002013-07-21T06:23:06.879-04:00Deborah Herd wrote...
The starling sat on the tel...Deborah Herd wrote...<br /><br />The starling sat on the telegraph wire six feet above the coop and watched as Hedley, dressed in his Sunday khaki pants and flak jacket, opened the passenger door to the truck. He placed the box containing the ratchet, wire, screws and hammer on the seat. Its swoop was silent but Hedley felt the bird’s wing brush the back of his hair in the split second before the claws dug into his neck. The full force of the talons severed the carotid artery instantly and he slumped to the icy ground. The bird sat on the coop, eyeing the hinge.Anonymoushttps://www.blogger.com/profile/07097476329489876868noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-17910688651988119532013-07-21T06:03:34.178-04:002013-07-21T06:03:34.178-04:00My parents kept me cooped up in this hellhole for ...My parents kept me cooped up in this hellhole for years. The only way to claw myself out, they said, was to get a full scholarship to an Ivy League school. So, I did what I was told and they can't say I didn't try. Then I discovered a way to make a lot of money and I could be out of here in a few years. Now I spend most of my time on my back and sometimes the requests are ratchet. But, hey, a girl's gotta' eat. LynnRodzhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/10796099106913990163noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-57724802777746622892013-07-21T01:51:05.121-04:002013-07-21T01:51:05.121-04:00My claws ratcheted, fists in memory.
"Coop.&...My claws ratcheted, fists in memory.<br /><br />"Coop." Her back to me, her shoulders hunched. "Ellis. It isn't about the girl."<br /><br />"You're full of shit."<br /><br />"It could have happened to anyone."<br /><br />"It happened to me."<br /><br />When she turned, tears silvered her porcelain cheeks, chrome gleaming beneath the skin. "They say you're afraid to touch me now."<br /><br />"They're wrong," I lied.<br /><br />"Still. They're pulling the plug."<br /><br />"How long do we have?"<br /><br />"Soon now." <br /><br />I had no heart for this. But the need in her . . . <br /><br />I opened a claw. Stroked her face. Microsensors shuttled and clicked. <br /><br />The wounds trailed silver. Despite my care.JD Paradisehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/07945134213244873038noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-89824305615484107192013-07-21T01:49:08.048-04:002013-07-21T01:49:08.048-04:00“Nature, red in tooth and claw,” I hummed, kicking...“Nature, red in tooth and <b>claw</b>,” I hummed, kicking my insane chickens away from my ankles. Strictly for their own good - they couldn’t peck their way through my steel-reinforced galoshes, but the <b>full</b> weight of a boot on a bird’s <b>back</b> would do some serious damage. And that would be a shame, after all the work I’d put into the clockwork and weapons systems.<br /><br />After <b>ratchet</b>ing each bird up to full power, I stepped out of the <b>coop</b> and looked down at the quiet village below. “Soon,” I whispered, and laughed merrily. <br />Sarahhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/03029615886562584784noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-12841493427459135762013-07-21T00:36:06.259-04:002013-07-21T00:36:06.259-04:00Like a balloon whipping around the room, my words ...Like a balloon whipping around the room, my words spray all over, fast. I want to take them back. Better yet, the full month of December, cold and lonely even in his arms. <br /><br />His eyes get owl like and one hand spreads into a claw. <br /><br />But he says nothing.<br /> <br />“I’m not keepin’ it.” I whisper.<br /><br />His stare hits me harder than the ratchet Dad threw after I spilled my news in the practice run. <br /><br />I rub the knobby bruise at my calf.<br /><br />“Aint nobody gonna coop me up in this bullshit town. I’m leaving today.”<br /><br />Instead of flinching, I run.amihttps://www.blogger.com/profile/13959841584623291630noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-908128757136427652013-07-20T23:34:35.033-04:002013-07-20T23:34:35.033-04:00The fiery sun glinted on the rippling waves where ...The fiery sun glinted on the rippling waves where she entered. <br /><br />The crisp, undulations of her sleek form through the water betrayed the message her conservative choice of swimsuit sought to deliver. Annoyed at the ratcheting desire clawing at him, he tossed back his full, sweating glass of Jim Beam. <br /><br />“If you keep staring at me like that I’m going to cut your eyes out while you sleep,” she said, pulling herself out of the water. <br /><br />As the bourbon’s burn washed over him, he realized her cooperation in the inevitable seduction, while preferable, was no longer required.Anonymoushttps://www.blogger.com/profile/10085792388902703107noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-23920070087285078022013-07-20T23:02:06.231-04:002013-07-20T23:02:06.231-04:00I could claw my way out.
I could bend my knees an...I could claw my way out.<br /><br />I could bend my knees and kick with my feet to splinter the gnarled wood and crawl out the end.<br /><br />I could put my hands above my head, arch my back and ratchet up all the strength left inside me to pop the nails out and send the lid flying. <br /><br />But there is no escape.<br /><br />For I know full well why I continue to lie here, cooped up for eternity with my hands folded together, fingers intertwined, wishing I could go back to the split second before I ended up in this god-forsaken place.<br /><br />Scott Ghttps://www.blogger.com/profile/00293362485142152780noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-44896407522806054402013-07-20T22:51:57.180-04:002013-07-20T22:51:57.180-04:00Mutha Clucker McCall, the world’s only secret agen...Mutha Clucker McCall, the world’s only secret agent chicken, was in some deep shit. At least it wasn’t her own. <br /> <br />“Mutha Clucker, give us back the egg.” <br /><br />“Brawkk-awk.”<br /><br />“You speak chicken?”<br /><br />“I speak the language of love. Those claws, that breast? I must have some of that white meat. Leave the coop.” <br /><br />“Brawwkk-awwwwk?” <br /><br />“That’s a chicken for God’s sake.” <br /><br />“And?”<br /><br />“I’ll get the declawer.”<br /><br />“Don’t make me go Full Metal Jacket.”<br /><br />Mutha Clucker broke free from her binds. A shot rang out.<br /><br />“Bok Bok Brawkk-awwwwwwwwk!”<br /><br />“A fine ratchet mess unrequited love is.” <br /><br />“Sick chicken fucker, deserved it.”<br />Anonymoushttps://www.blogger.com/profile/04542470339807656227noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-43913256312452728902013-07-20T22:38:26.025-04:002013-07-20T22:38:26.025-04:00Before I flew the coop, I had one last piece of bu...Before I flew the coop, I had one last piece of business to finish. I needed to send a message they would never forget. I walked into the back of the bar and saw him sitting there; the smug look on his face doing nothing but help ratchet up my anger another level. I waited until he stood and turned. Before anyone could react to what was happening, I took a full swing with the hammer and slammed the claw into his back. As he turned I smiled and took a slice of his pizza before bolting out the door.Anonymoushttps://www.blogger.com/profile/06570225794045623435noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-23567610131501998412013-07-20T21:50:10.964-04:002013-07-20T21:50:10.964-04:00Live life to the fullest, they say. Don't spen...Live life to the fullest, they say. Don't spend it cooped up inside. <br /><br />Thing is, I loved my life. Loved sitting at the back, in the dark, watching my family grow faster than my midriff. <br /><br />Now they are gone.<br /><br />My home was first. <br /><br />Pulled out of the darkness, lifted into the air, discarded on a high perch. I clung onto my home, my ratchet strap, with imaginary claws. <br /><br />Watched our protector, The Bed, be dismantled. For one glorious moment I saw my entire city, my people, laid out below me. <br /><br />Then the tornado came. <br /><br />And sucked them all up.NotJanahttps://www.blogger.com/profile/07330407812411729832noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-5468512288581973462013-07-20T21:44:21.868-04:002013-07-20T21:44:21.868-04:00"R-A-T-C-H-E-T. Ooh, boy, that's a full-f..."R-A-T-C-H-E-T. Ooh, boy, that's a full-fledged piece of vocabulary if I ever seen one! All seven tiles. That's 74 points for me, Coop, and I'm out! Whatchu got left, eh? Count 'em up!" <br /><br />I watch my grandmother from the doorway. She is leaning over the table, her emaciated back crooked, propping up the sweater that hangs from her spine. Claw-like fingers pluck Scrabble tiles from her opponent's wooden tile holder. <br /><br />Place them one at a time on the table.<br /><br />Coop. My grandfather. He was killed on his beat forty-five years ago.Anonymoushttps://www.blogger.com/profile/08185074942156560845noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-91858514261496842072013-07-20T21:39:18.166-04:002013-07-20T21:39:18.166-04:00The full metal jackets tumbled off the dining room...The full metal jackets tumbled off the dining room table as Fat Boy broke down the door. Too bad my <br />9mm was in the bedroom. Said the Man wanted to see me. Something about an unfinished job. Payback. Figured I’d be gone awhile so I dumped two scoopfuls in the cat’s dish. <br /><br />“The Man knows I don’t do blades,” I said. “Never even used one.” <br /> <br />“Don’t matter. A job is a job.” <br /><br />“What’s he gonna do?” <br /><br />“Declaw you,” he said matter-of-factly. <br /> <br />“With a .38?” I felt its muzzle against my back. <br /><br />“No, something more personal,” he chuckled. “Rhymes with ratchet.” <br />Calorie Bombshellhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/18039655088542854847noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-76174736028620014072013-07-20T19:03:14.290-04:002013-07-20T19:03:14.290-04:00"Mohawk."
I hadn't expected her i..."Mohawk." <br /><br />I hadn't expected her in this tiny coop. "Did daddy put the princess out with the dogs?"<br /><br />Celeston sank her claws into my shoulder. Points of pain burned down my arm to the slipjack I'd used on the door. <br /><br />"I'll shear you myself," she hissed. "Back up." Jewels glittered in Celeston's fully extended crest. My bundled plumes would never get such finery, but they rose half an arm higher. She would gleefully mutilate me to rectify that "genetic mistake."<br /><br />I rammed my slipjack under her talon, ratcheted it off. She lunged as I ran for the gate. Ellen Saundershttps://www.blogger.com/profile/02380241523329935924noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-24504467515362890622013-07-20T18:26:35.745-04:002013-07-20T18:26:35.745-04:00I found the claw under six inches of dirt beside a...I found the <b>claw</b> under six inches of dirt beside a half-dead sagebrush. The sad little thing still had some fur clinging to the <b>back</b> of it. Jolene was digging near the cactus; I slid the claw into my pack. She didn’t need to know yet.<br /><br />I sat back on my haunches. So, P<b>ratchet</b>t lied to me. Mercy knows why I expected any different. Idiot husband.<br /><br />Jolene gasped. She s<b>coop</b>ed up another claw, her face white as powdered milk.<br /><br />“Jo...”<br /><br />She shook her head sharply, eyes <b>full</b> of rage. “We dig. We find him. Then we chop off <i>his</i> claws.”Amy Schaeferhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/17263719891092841767noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-9148891452673236442013-07-20T18:23:09.832-04:002013-07-20T18:23:09.832-04:00The twins, finally asleep, snore like angels in be...The twins, finally asleep, snore like angels in bed beside her. Their hair, soft as down, glides easily through her fingers. A sudden wind drags through the shutters like a ratchet across a wood floor. Fear closes her eyes like a drug. Livy envisions the old chicken coop; instinctively, she clenches her fists. Her mother used to make Livy feed the chicks until they were full, then claw out their sleepy eyes, and wring their little necks. <br />“I never loved you, Livy,” the memory of her mother whispers. As Livy wakes up screaming, wringing her angel’s limp necks.<br />Anonymoushttps://www.blogger.com/profile/01244984692266491708noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-48829513821566673842013-07-20T17:53:42.940-04:002013-07-20T17:53:42.940-04:00“They’re not meant to be cooped up like this,” Ser...“They’re not meant to be cooped up like this,” Sergeant says. “You’ve got to let them stretch their limbs. Clear their lungs.” She tugs one out of the pit by the chin.<br /><br />The waif squints toward the suns, claws at the air with grubby fingers. A gurgle escapes chapped lips.<br /><br />“How you expect any of them to reach full grown if you don’t give them vitamin D? Owners manual says they need it.” Sergeant smacks my forehead.<br /><br />“Ow,” I says. “Okay. Okay.”<br /><br />Soon’s she leaves I shoves ‘em back. Ratchet the boulder into place. Human kids are so much work. <br />KarinB.https://www.blogger.com/profile/01329305872666186541noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-89079238056512441642013-07-20T17:31:17.151-04:002013-07-20T17:31:17.151-04:00"I know he woke you up, but that's what h..."I know he woke you up, but that's what his kind do. Is it really necessary to retaliate?"<br /><br />I test the blade against the back of my hand. "You'll thank me when our bellies are full tonight."<br /><br />My husband storms out of the coop, letting the door slam shut. A few hens flutter from their roosts in protest, and the throbbing in my head ratchets up a couple levels. When my enemy comes out to investigate, I grab him by one clawed foot and stare into his beady eyes.<br /><br />"Rooster," I say, "only one of us is leaving here alive."Just Janhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/12546035917149403735noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-90862482951203179802013-07-20T16:18:33.150-04:002013-07-20T16:18:33.150-04:00“Digger!”
“Yeah Stokes?”
“Look over here. What d...“Digger!”<br /><br />“Yeah Stokes?”<br /><br />“Look over here. What do you see?”<br /><br />“I see one of your little rat-claw hands waving at me from under the car.”<br /><br />“I need the half-inch ratchet. So…I guess you’re still pissed about last night.”<br /><br />“Because you told everybody I was full of crap about seeing Bigfoot? Nah. Here’s the wrench”<br /><br />“Good. More cooperation and less harassment will get this job done by lunch.”<br /><br />“Oh, I’ll be done by lunch alright.”<br /><br />“That’s the spirit. Now back the car off the lube rack so I can crawl out of here.”<br /><br />…<br /><br />“Digger?”<br /><br />…<br /><br />“DIGGER!!”<br />Williamhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/05464023906909256453noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-48114257516608701762013-07-20T16:07:12.833-04:002013-07-20T16:07:12.833-04:00Louie looked up in time to see Sally the fine-feat...Louie looked up in time to see Sally the fine-feathered femme fatale flying the coop. <br /> <br />"Wait," he shouted, struggling to get back up. <br /> <br />Someone planted a foot on his head, talons clawed his crown. Furious, the rooster spun around in time to catch the culprit. <br /> <br />It was Joanna, the hen-pecking broad from the other night.<br /> <br />"Trying to ratchet up another notch on that expanding belt? Ha!" <br /> <br />Louie stared at her, dumbfounded. The full-figured chick continued clucking as she yanked a wedding ring from her breast fold.<br /> <br />"It’s simple. Seeing as how we're expecting quintuplets, your cock-a-doodle-do just became a cock-a-doodle-don't."<br /><br />2951 ShebilAnonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-68227140546147364432013-07-20T15:51:05.833-04:002013-07-20T15:51:05.833-04:00“Close your eyes, Evie,” the angel says. “I’m here...“Close your eyes, Evie,” the angel says. “I’m here.”<br /><br />I turn my head. Blink away dripping blood. He’s dazzling, familiar. Blond hair. Dimples. Green eyes brimming with love and untold jokes.<br /><br />The haze clears.<br /> <br />I’m on my back, alone. Moths dash against the fly-spotted bulb in our chicken coop.<br /><br />Matty?<br /> <br />My mouth is full of cloth. I gag. Ratchet a breath.<br /> <br />In the doorway, a human monster. Blond hair trails from the claw of his hammer like blood-soaked algae.<br /> <br />“I’m here, babe.” The angel’s breath is like cool water on my cheek.<br /><br />The hammer lifts, and I close my eyes.Anonymoushttps://www.blogger.com/profile/16992792501646465680noreply@blogger.com