tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post497348523868643325..comments2024-03-18T09:09:59.625-04:00Comments on Janet Reid, Literary Agent: I love writing contests alot!Janet Reidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00615380335938685231noreply@blogger.comBlogger80125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-66160835443304058412013-11-24T10:14:11.361-05:002013-11-24T10:14:11.361-05:00Elizabeth Adkins (who needs a Google account cause...Elizabeth Adkins (who needs a Google account cause WordPress hates Blogger)<br /><br />So. It's not like I expected to win or anything, but I did write it, so here it is. For better, for worse, or for chum:<br /><br />Kelsy stood in the shadows, alert, watching the unnatural rocking of the houseboat. The conjoined shadows on the curtain echoed the boat’s rhythmic motion.<br /><br />He was supposed to be her white knight, but he was no heroic figure. He wasn’t even discrete.<br /><br />She walked quietly to the dock. At the galley window, she smelled the gas she’d turned on before they arrived. Not a lot, but enough. She flicked on her lighter and reached towards the window.<br /><br />He thought she was past caring, but he was wrong. She’d been serious when she’d told him that hearts are flammable.<br /><br />Janet Reidhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/00615380335938685231noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-72569463604402607482013-11-24T09:00:11.485-05:002013-11-24T09:00:11.485-05:00I watch as he heroically saves her life.
I watch...I watch as he heroically saves her life. <br /><br />I watch as she kisses him in thanks. They exchange names and numbers. <br /><br />But I know the truth.<br /><br />This isn’t the first time they’ve met. <br /><br />It was during our town’s weekly lottery when they got together.<br /><br />I watch the connection between the two; as flammable as my rage.<br /><br />They part ways and he sees me.<br /> <br />He knows the rouse is up again.<br /> <br />I smile at him, scaring him in the process. <br /><br />He looks in alertness and runs after her. <br /><br />I withdraw my gun and do the same. This time I’ll kill them. <br />Nicole Paynehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/16587996594690217267noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-35430112368735375672013-11-24T08:05:41.797-05:002013-11-24T08:05:41.797-05:00"Kittens are flammable if soaked in gas"... "Kittens are flammable if soaked in gas", I remember my captain saying at the fireman's fundraiser. I imagined a house with a litter of six week old calico fireballs running between ceiling to floor draped rooms. <br /> Children are screaming but I'm not on duty, let those who are be heroic. I'll just watch and roast a Ball Park, nitrate and nitrite alerts be damned. <br /> My wife says I pretend to be caring but she all wrong. I'd do anything for her. And now, with a vacant lot to buy, we can finally add on that in-law suite. Anonymoushttps://www.blogger.com/profile/16336068302745567044noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-75343243608002134462013-11-24T05:59:01.892-05:002013-11-24T05:59:01.892-05:00Alert to the vault’s defences, Eelman slithered be...<b>Alert</b> to the vault’s defences, Eelman slithered between the lasers. His oily skin massaged the floor like a Hooters girl <b>caring</b> for an octogenarian pervert.<br /><br />Behind the glass, the diamonds twinkled.<br /><br />Eelman licked his lips. “The <b>lot</b>! I want the lot!”<br /><br />Now for the <b>heroic</b> part: slipping his lock-picking tongue into the security console without being zapped. If there were lightning bolts, he was frazzlable; if there were missiles, he was impalable; if there were flames, he was <b>flammable</b>.<br /><br />The console buzzed and the glass fell away.<br /><br />Eelman made to grab the diamonds.<br /><br />Bum time to realise: <i>no arms</i>.Whirlochrehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/09846196906206886945noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-24757605972346982162013-11-24T04:39:36.385-05:002013-11-24T04:39:36.385-05:00“Cause of death on the cake decorator?” asked Dete...“Cause of death on the cake decorator?” asked Detective Caring. <br />“Deep brain injury. Weapon was a red pen shoved up his nasal cavity,” said Sergeant Flammable.<br />“Witnesses, alert bystanders?”<br />“Nope, and nobody made any heroic efforts to hide the weapon, indicating a crime of passion. Luckily the victim kept pictures of all his cakes; these’re the last ten.”<br />“What’s the story on this?” asked Caring, pointing to a cake inscribed: Thank’s Alot Miss P!<br />“Party for Miss Perfetto, retired from the Times after 45 years.”<br />“Forty five years doing what?”<br />“Says here she was a copy editor.”<br />Gabriellahttps://www.blogger.com/profile/05932063608530305804noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-30456115985483391082013-11-24T03:40:41.678-05:002013-11-24T03:40:41.678-05:00The phone buzzes with an alert. I don't consid...The phone buzzes with an alert. I don't consider myself heroic, just caring. I quickly pull on my clothes and head into the night. There isn't a lot that scares me more than a open space fire in a dry year. This call is alarming, there is plenty of flammable materials in the area. <br /><br /><br />I arrive on the scene, men in yellow suits are dousing the flames. The fire is under control. <br /><br /><br />I breathe, we caught it in time. <br /><br /><br />There is a tug on my sleeve. I look down and see a little girl. <br /><br /><br />“Thanks for saving my house.”Phoenixwallerhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/00896928536500926320noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-34196291041950914152013-11-24T03:15:20.324-05:002013-11-24T03:15:20.324-05:00Paaj missed the last train. Nervous and alert, she...Paaj missed the last train. Nervous and alert, she hurried for the bus. <br /><br />She cursed in Hmong and cut through a well-lit lot to a closed gas station. Hispanic kids smoked beside the pumps. Loud. Not caring about the English signs. “Flammable.” “No smoking.”<br /><br />Two Asian men moved her way on the opposite sidewalk. Instinctively, Paaj crossed.<br /><br />They struck her on the shoulder. She fell. Her arm tangled in her purse strap.<br /><br />Shouts came. Rushing footsteps. Paaj felt rough hands lift her and push. She smelled cigarettes.<br /><br />Paaj ran for the approaching bus, not slowing to thank her heroic saviors.arogers907https://www.blogger.com/profile/09042793862392995171noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-76879594013372807452013-11-24T02:59:43.269-05:002013-11-24T02:59:43.269-05:00“Don’t take heroic measures,” we told them. Mom wa...“Don’t take heroic measures,” we told them. Mom wasn’t going to make it to Alert Bay, much less to Royal Vic. Our local paramedics are a caring lot, not jaded like some in the city, so they did what they could until they could do no more. Jerry, the teacher who doubles as a mortician, asked when he could pick her up, if we needed anything.<br />“We’ll let you know. Soon.”<br />We took her to the beach, laid her on the sand, and looked for anything flammable that could help light driftwood.<br />She would have a right and proper burial.<br />Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-43197318069736460592013-11-24T02:55:52.643-05:002013-11-24T02:55:52.643-05:00My system reboots. Orange alert lights flash above...My system reboots. Orange alert lights flash above me. I pull myself up. My thighs are crushed under the ship’s steel door. Ruptured skin mixed with pools of biosynthetic blood, and my carbon-steel bones smashed to scrape metal. Pain – I feel no longer.<br /><br />Quick skeletal assessment and I eject my two limps. I slither on my torso and pull ahead. Most flammable fuel in the lot is stored in the back.<br /><br />What I’m doing isn’t heroic, it’s human. Caring for this ship was my purpose. But I was human once, I can override my purpose. I will destroy this ship.Ravina Patthttps://www.blogger.com/profile/14213365611878079768noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-43297438949768022442013-11-24T02:20:40.018-05:002013-11-24T02:20:40.018-05:00My boss John had a flammable personality. He'd...My boss John had a flammable personality. He'd burned through three good strong teams, ruining the lot and not caring. Stock values plummeted. Higher-ups noticed.<br /><br />I'd been his secretary, drafting letters, fetching coffee... hardly heroic.<br /><br />I never expected a private job alert from John's boss. We don't get 'fired', per se. Nobody was ever fired, but I'd stopped believing the lie that people got 'transferred'.<br /><br />A drop of ipecac in his coffee sent him running for the nearest toilet. My body weight ensured his flame was snuffed out permanently.<br /><br />I even got a job completion bonus.Her Grace, Heidi, the Duchess of Knealehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/17818060864422019573noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-86165903443450614852013-11-24T02:17:38.956-05:002013-11-24T02:17:38.956-05:00D-G-A-D-G-A. Simple chords, walking tempo.
One l...D-G-A-D-G-A. Simple chords, walking tempo. <br /><br />One last set together, split the cash, split up. She sits to my left, her caring smile heroic for the lie it tells our crowd. <br /><br />D-G-A-D-G-A, edgier now. I scowl, she sings.<br /><br />I’ve had women on the side, not a lot. I found her showering with Jake. You don’t unsee that. <br /><br />Her voice is flammable, exploding my fingers over the strings. I solo, wending up the scale. Back to the riff, D-G-A-D-G-A. Her voice lands the song. We lock eyes, mutually alert.<br /><br />They scream approval. Jake waits offstage. She breezes past him unaffected. Hope flickers. <br />Jared Xhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/14717555776469970002noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-40124823488159179822013-11-24T02:13:36.964-05:002013-11-24T02:13:36.964-05:00Cheri drove to the lot and put the car in park wit...Cheri drove to the lot and put the car in park with a nauseating crank that put Mark on alert. He looked over his former sister-in law with a snort as she said, "I'm here for Stella's things." <br /><br />Mark laughed, "How noble. Positively heroic." He threw the box on the seat with a less-than-caring gesture. <br /><br />"You know, you ougta move. These junkyards, they're so flammable." Cheri drawled. <br /><br />Mark guffawed, "No, they're not."<br /><br />Cheri took out a bottle of vodka with his wedding hanky stuffed into the open top. She smiled and flicked on a lighter under the hanky, "Yes. They are."Anonymoushttps://www.blogger.com/profile/14074811441758896513noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-85359042500644649782013-11-24T01:32:03.331-05:002013-11-24T01:32:03.331-05:00“Where am I?”
The velvety dark swallowed her word...“Where am I?”<br /><br />The velvety dark swallowed her words, spitting back strange metallic echoes. Her ears twitched, alert for any sound of movement.<br /><br />“Answer me!” <br /><br />Silence. <br /><br />“Tell me or I’ll -”<br /><br />“Don’t think of doing anything heroic, girl.” The robotic voice bore no emotion, yet the threatening tone was unmistakable. “You humans are so wonderfully flammable.”<br /><br />Suddenly there was light, so blinding she closed her eyes against it. Opening them revealed an old indoor car lot, with shadowy figures lurking behind the bright beams.<br /><br />“We can be caring, if you please us.”BiancaNogradyhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/01073168989418307634noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-66946462376300595812013-11-24T01:14:32.582-05:002013-11-24T01:14:32.582-05:00“—not my fault! I mean, did you know flammable and...“—not my fault! I mean, did <i>you</i> know flammable and inflammable was the same thing?”<br /><br />“Yes.”<br /><br />“Oh. Well, <i>still</i>.”<br /><br />The station had been on alert for ten whole minutes this time before Greg injured himself in an idiotic “heroic" act. It was like a freakin’ record or something, and Rebecca almost resisted sticking a gold star to his good leg.<br /><br /><i>Almost</i>.<br /><br />He pursed his lips at her hastily scribbled post-it and pulled it off immediately. She barely stifled a snort. <br /><br />“Wow, gee, thanks a lot, Becks. So caring. Best partner ever.”<br /><br />She shrugged. “I do what I can.”<br />Jennifer Beehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/10767359475097830186noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-47875468145441518512013-11-24T01:05:30.601-05:002013-11-24T01:05:30.601-05:00A lot of girls wish they were me, but that’s only ...A lot of girls wish they were me, but that’s only because they don’t know the truth. I’m more than my push-up bra and French manicure. My lips are chapped and annoyed. This isn’t my first make-out session, and I’m certain it won’t be my last. I keep waiting to be swept off my feet, to sink into a kiss that’s practically flammable. Instead, I’m completely alert as his tongue flicks sloppily around my mouth. There’s nothing heroic about a loveless kiss, but I hope to eventually stop caring. He pulls back, grins, then goes back at it.Kimberly Kinghttps://www.blogger.com/profile/08634112435898967496noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-63526167516697070542013-11-24T00:59:29.113-05:002013-11-24T00:59:29.113-05:00
I had always been a caring mother. Alert to all m...<br />I had always been a caring mother. Alert to all my children’s needs, sacrificing my life for them. But that was before I met Justin who hated kids.<br /><br />The heroic fireman, who arrived too late to save them, accused me of putting my toddlers in flammable pjs.<br /><br />I said it was a communist plot. All those factories in China making our children’s clothing and us parents getting the blame. Tears streamed down my face, TV reporters and juries love that kind of stuff.<br />Debra Giuffridahttps://www.blogger.com/profile/07069507120319995334noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-18431942868668078132013-11-23T23:41:30.235-05:002013-11-23T23:41:30.235-05:00Marylou was beyond caring as she dragged her cheat...Marylou was beyond caring as she dragged her cheating husband’s body, along with the can of flammable liquid, deeper into the swamp behind her abandoned lot. <br /><br />An owl, on high alert, hooted out a warning. A heroic effort, Marylou thought. But…too late.<br /><br />She shined her flashlight on the water’s surface. A pair of reptilian eyes shone back. A new option. Less mess.<br /><br />She glanced at the body. Gas can? Eyes? <br /><br />His hand slipped from hers and slapped against the water. The gator slid closer. Marylou smiled. <br /><br />The eyes have it. <br /><br />She waited. Then Marylou trudged back home, practicing her lie.<br />Foxcreekhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/00701425489153222949noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-10938891492399405362013-11-23T23:25:14.473-05:002013-11-23T23:25:14.473-05:00"Bring a lot." Jared assured the waiter,..."Bring a lot." Jared assured the waiter, smirking at Alexis. “I ate the hottest peppers in Thailand like a local."<br /><br />"That’s almost heroic." Alexis faked flirtatious. Her brother's business partner was a pretentious oaf.<br /><br />"Isn’t it a superpower yet?" Jared gave a boastful laugh. Why had she let her brother set them up? <br /><br />Alexis enjoyed her excellent soup, not caring that Jared progressed from moist red to dripping purple. <br /><br />"Don’t worry." he gasped, heaved, and swallowed, “I’m only, like, alert.”<br /><br />"I hope you're not wearing anything flammable." Alexis had to let her brother down. “Check please!”<br />RachelErinhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/09510327163701754950noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-65682747852195926732013-11-23T23:23:07.714-05:002013-11-23T23:23:07.714-05:00Words are thoughts rendered flammable. And Luke wa...Words are thoughts rendered flammable. And Luke wasn’t in the mood to be heroic. Safeguarding her from the fundamental truth of their relationship meant caring for her in a way he’d already told her he was incapable of. So he did the next best thing he could think of and poured her whiskey. A lot of whiskey.<br /><br />There was a greedy smile on her face while they talked about commitment until she heard “Being serious is hard when you know the other person isn’t alert.”<br /><br />He waited until she spilled some whiskey before dropping his cigarette into her lap.Anonymoushttps://www.blogger.com/profile/07980083355406152455noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-17936913474838509302013-11-23T23:06:08.199-05:002013-11-23T23:06:08.199-05:00You’d think the end of the world would be terrifyi...You’d think the end of the world would be terrifying. That it’d be filled with screaming, panicking people desperately trying to “save” themselves. But I don’t need saving. My lot in life wasn’t one to be envied. And, the way I figure it, the quicker I make an exit, the better. I was never the caring, heroic type. I mostly spent my time just trying to stay alert. Trying to fight the urges. The smell of smoke and destruction creeps under the metal bars. I glance around the small cell. Not much in here that’s flammable. Except me of course.<br />Kirstenhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/16616474678863034003noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-51819928700514746032013-11-23T23:01:19.675-05:002013-11-23T23:01:19.675-05:00The body resembled a rag-and-bone heap of red ging...The body resembled a rag-and-bone heap of red gingham.<br /><br />Stacks had caught a bum pouring something flammable on it.<br /><br />“I doan know nuthin’,” the man snarled, then genuflected. Yellow tatters of sleeves fluttered like a 20-foot Gumby announcing a used-car lot.<br /><br />“Unh-hunh.” It wasn’t that Stacks was uncaring. He’d just seen too much.<br /><br />Sweeping the area, he caught a glint and bent to bring the bracelet in range.<br /><br />“Don’t be heroic,” the raggedy man glowered. The identifier’s alert clanged: “This child is wanted for questioning, under suspicion of pestilence warfare.”<br /><br /><i>Damn,</i> Stacks thought, <i>that’s the third mangled kid this week</i>.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-54551917165104645672013-11-23T22:44:11.566-05:002013-11-23T22:44:11.566-05:00Procuring the child's hotdog — easy.
Giving it...Procuring the child's hotdog — easy.<br />Giving it up after it's already in one's mouth — hard.<br /><br />Alert to incoming cars, she dropped a chunk in the busy intersection, then left a morsel trail back to the gate.<br /><br />Paw on latch, Cat smiled.<br />Dog drooled.<br /><br />Careful. Dog wasn't as stupid as he looked, and the uncaring bastard had a flammable temper. Dog's keen sense of smell led him down the trail. You'd think he'd smell himself, take minute to bathe. Foul beast.<br /><br />She liked the sound of screeching tires, liked it lots. <br /><br />Now for the heroics, rescue Kitty from the backyard's elm.Bill Scotthttps://www.blogger.com/profile/12727407427730937429noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-33031881127078962332013-11-23T22:42:40.351-05:002013-11-23T22:42:40.351-05:00The prisoner walked up the gangway.
The guard ch...The prisoner walked up the gangway. <br /><br />The guard checked his clipboard. “That’s the lot of you.” He flicked his cigarette at the man. “Not looking heroic now, are you?” <br /><br />“I’m beyond caring what I look like.” The prisoner’s eyes were hollow from hunger but alert. He picked up the cigarette butt and walked onto the rusty ship.<br /><br />“Last boat ride you’ll ever take,” the guard said. <br /><br />The prisoner dropped the still-smoldering butt into a drum marked “flammable.” The oily rags inside whooshed into flame, and he kicked the drum over onto the hose refueling the ship.<br /><br />“You too.” <br />William Weissingerhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/07725187430101522676noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-70672299328989779032013-11-23T21:34:20.928-05:002013-11-23T21:34:20.928-05:00I brace myself against the whistling of the acrid ...<br />I brace myself against the whistling of the acrid night wind, distant police sirens and earnest beating of my own heart.<br /><br />She shifts the blaster to her other hip.<br /><br />"Listen, I know you're a heroic...caring lot. The kinda guys who like to help, but..."<br /><br />I wince. Caring. She says it like it's a disease.<br /><br />"Nah, yeah, and you're the kind of person who likes to reduce baby carriages to flammable tar heaps-"<br /><br />"I never said -"<br /><br />“What if they find out?”<br /><br />"Well you don't have to alert the navy..." <br /><br />"It’ll never work! My parents won’t let me date a supervillain."<br />BPhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/16407715408242911362noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17040756.post-87157911014144140442013-11-23T20:59:44.456-05:002013-11-23T20:59:44.456-05:00I was alert, barely caring. The fog in my head is ...I was alert, barely caring. The fog in my head is heavy like the chain around my waist. A red haze occludes my vision as I strain to make out the tank with flammable written in bold. The vapor gags me. I’m soaked in fuel.<br /><br />Oh shit.<br /> <br />I lay there dazed and bound, grasping at memories. My heart pounding, nothing is clear: a phone call, vacant lot, the money, a blow to the head, darkness.<br /><br />I’m screwed, there's no MacGyvering my way out of this one. Where’s the heroic Sam Dryden when you need him?<br /> <br />Wait, is that smoke?<br /><br /><br />Anonymoushttps://www.blogger.com/profile/07674931794239969915noreply@blogger.com