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January 9th, 2005, 03:41 PM
The last couple of exercise seemed to be a little less that successfull and I couldn't help but get to thinking about it. I guess it was a combination of my lack of inspiration and just the way the forums were at the time, so I've had a thought...

Instead of having a set exercise I fugure we can do something a little more laid back.

This is a combination of an exercise and an informal competition.

This is how it works. I'm gonna give you a word. Just the one, you have to write something using that word as your inspiration, a complete story, a secen, a poem, it's entirely up to you what. I'll pick a winner by writing everyone's names on tiny hats and pulling one out of a giant piece of paper. They get to pick the next word and so on ad eternam...

The first word will be "FATIGUE"

Get writing my pretty little minions! :D


January 11th, 2005, 12:28 PM
Any word limit? I'm feeling wordy which is why I'm asking. :)

January 11th, 2005, 01:12 PM
Yeah - 1000 words is the maximum word limit you can post directly into the forum. Having said that - he hasn't specified a word limit, so I'm guessing you could submit a longer piece to community and put the link in here... :D

January 11th, 2005, 04:04 PM
Yeah - 1000 words is the maximum word limit you can post directly into the forum. Having said that - he hasn't specified a word limit, so I'm guessing you could submit a longer piece to community and put the link in here... :D

Pah! 1000 words is indeed the limit, if you're feeling wordy then write two! :p


January 11th, 2005, 04:12 PM
Do I then end up with 2 names in the hat instead of one? So the more I write, the better my odds? Though I think I'm odd enough already, a little more oddity can't hurt, eh?

January 11th, 2005, 08:42 PM
Of course, having now laid bare your devious plan, everyone will know the trick and will be at the same advantage. Which may just turn into a disadvantage for those reading the posts! :)

January 16th, 2005, 01:20 AM
Since everyone is posting so fast, I guess I'd better get mine out there, eh?

Title? hmmm... hadn't thougth of that. How about I'm Rander. It weighs in at 625 words and took a total of 30 minutes to plot, plan, and write. Ok, I'm telling an untruth. It took 30 minutes to write. :)


Rander's arm felt as though it was about to fall off. He'd already fallen off his horse and being that there was still an enemy to fight, this was a bad thing.
Rather than collapse to the ground and pretend he was dead, Rander decided it would be better to see if his legs still had any strength left. The man rushing up looked to be in as bad of shape as Rander. Perhaps rushing was an overstatement. Stumbling would be a better word for that the man was doing. Stumbling and dragging his sword over the corpse strew battle field.
"Come no further or I shall be forced to strike you down," Rander threatened in what he thought would be a fierce growl but was barely above a whimper. The battle had started the previous day's morning and it was now nearly twilight of the second day. Blood of thousands had been spilt and those left on the field were in no shape to continue on, yet neither side would concede.
"Have at you," the soldier said even though he was still several paces, and perhaps several minutes, away.
Rander's wits had not suffered as much as his body and thought perhaps he could parley with the man. "Surrender and I shall not be forced to strike you down."
"Strike..." The man stopped and took several deep breaths before continuing. "You will not prevail. Prepare to meet your doom."
Rander took a moment to look around the body strewn battle field. This had all started out with such intense fighting and each side convinced of a simple victory. He found it almost ironic that it would end in a whimper and neither side would win. In fact, now that he was actually looking around and away from his opponent he noticed that there was a considerable lack of movement at this point. This caused him great concern. There was a muffled clang that got his attention.
"Prepare to meet your maker!"
The sound had been the soldier's sword being forced forward across the ground and into Rander's. Rander looked at the man's ragged clothing and bedraggled face and thought mercy would be best. As he'd hoped, his legs were in much better shape than his arms and his was able to shoot his foot out and knock the man's legs out from under him. The man fell to the ground.
"It is finished."
The man let out a ragged breath and closed his eyes.
Being the only one on the battle field still standing, Rander decided he must be the victor. His side had won, but whom would he tell? All able bodied men had arrived at this spot to do battle and none of them were moving. Town was nearly fifteen miles away and after two days of battle, walking didn't sound like something he would be able to accomplish.
No horses, no mules, no animal was moving in his range of vision that could carry him. The vultures were the only animals in the area and even if he strung a length of twine between a pair, they still would not be able to bear his weight. He had to come up with some way to let any who came across this scene that he was the winner.

# # #
Though it took him a long time -- not nearly as long as walking home would have taken -- Rander finally had finished. Any who sat atop a horse and passed this way would know who had prevailed in the battle. The corpses nearest the road had been rearranged into macabre letters that spelled, "Rander won." Rander used the last of his strength to write on his armor, "Hello. I'm Rander"


Who's next? Please don't tell me I'm going to win by default.