Sunday, March 31, 2013

#8Sunday - Drained - Episode 10: Here Kitty Kitty

Happy Easter!

I haven't done much writing the last few weeks, because I tore the tendons in my arm basically from the neck down  and - because it hurts like the dickens - I was saving its usefulness for my calculus midterm that was on Thursday night. Since that's over, I suspect this week will be more productive. But probably not by much.

Anyway, because of the aforementioned situation, I'm carrying on this week where I left off last week.


"Michael," she purred, and I almost laughed at how preposterous it was that she would actually purr while communicating, especially with someone she was, without a doubt, planning on killing.

"Is this what they mean when they call something poetic justice?" I wanted to know.

"I don't guess I even like poetry, Ma'am, but I reckon so, he grunted.

I felt bad laughing in the shadow of his impending doom; even though that wasn't EXACTLY what I was doing.

"It's not," he countered, laughing himself. "You're laughing at this nut job purring like a kitty cat while preparing to hook me up to tubes and liberate my blood."

Mask lady was walking towards him. Was that a riding crop in her hand?


Thanks for stopping by this weekend. your feedback is always appreciated :)

I hope you're all having a wonderful Easter weekend!

Check out the wewriwa talent here.



Sunday, March 24, 2013

#8Sunday - Drained - Episode 9: That 'Je Ne Sais Quoi"

Welcome back to another eight sentence Sunday!

This week follows last week (missed that? Check it out here).


Second - the je ne said quoi that I just mentioned, they have it so that they can bed the enemy, because everyone knows that bedding the enemy makes for interesting pillow talk. Afterwards they are expendable.

Back to the brain waves.

I wasn't yet sure what had transpired between Madame Surgical Mask and Michael, but by the taste of his bile, it wasn't pretty.

Rumor had it that Michael had only a single failed mission in his dossier, and I was betting it had something to do with this masked bitch.

He kept his rage in check but I could feel the sweat starting to form on his body as his temperature rose.

"Easy there, big guy," I whispered, forgetting for a moment that I was but an observer and time travel was still impossible. He chuckled in my head, but I could sense his discomfort.


Who is this woman? And why is she wearing a surgical mask? Those are my questions, and I'm hoping to find out soon.

Thanks for stopping by! Click here to find links to the wonderful authors participating in this week's eight sentences!

Cheers :)


Sunday, March 17, 2013

#8Sunday - Drained - Episode 8: The One That Got Away

Good Sunday morning, my lovelies!

Last week I posted about the doctor having her mind taken over by Michael -- mutant extraordinaire. (Click here to see what that was all about.)

This week is a continuation from there:


Neither of us screamed but given my status as non deployable, I had been rather protected from seeing such grisly sights. A chill tore up my spine, then back down, and probably would have continued using my spinal cord as a roller coaster had the door not chosen that instant to fling open and all but belch a white coated lady into the room.

The woman standing in the doorway wore a surgical mask, but he recognized her in the instant he saw her eyes. I felt the hatred bubble up within him.

I'll digress here to explain something. Or maybe two somethings.

First -- the flock of females on base, the one's who willingly gave Michael their numbers -- really didn't understand their draw to him; they just were. Mutant males exude a certain... je ne sais quoi, and because of that, think law of attraction on steroids.


It's the last day of March break :( I've gotten some writing done, some studying done, and spent a buttload of time cleaning up after my son and his friends while they partake in their Xbox marathons.

Today I'll be reading the works of the fabulous participants at the wewriwa website. Check them out!

Thanks for stopping by :) Your feedback is always welcomed. I look forward to hearing from you.



P.S: Want the inside scoop on Drained? Click over to wattpad -- no account needed!

Sunday, March 10, 2013

#8Sunday -- Drained - Episode 7: The Hand in the Ceiling

One more day of work and then a six day "vacation"! It's so needed - my body has begun the slow process of falling apart as though it were a cake being removed from the pan too soon after coming out of the oven. I figure that in another three or four days -- or maybe even at some point today -- certain essential parts (like my entire dominant arm from the shoulder down) will just say stick it, lady, and fall to the ground. Fingers crossed that this doesn't happen.

Background for this week's eight:

Our main male character - Michael - is showing his doctor what happened to him. It so happens that Michael was exsanguinated, and he's showing her all of this by taking over her mind.


Michael did more of a visual scan while he had time. The men were leaning against the walls. The room was bare of furniture. A rat was in the corner, chewing on what appeared to be bloody rags.

He noticed the dark stains on the floor around his feet. They spread across the concrete. His eyes followed them all the way to the end of the trail and looked up.

Chains were bolted into the ceiling, and attached to them, a severed hand, fresh enough that blood was still dripping.


If you want to read more, head here.

Visit Weekend Writing Warriors to read more snippets from the very talented authors who make this blog hop happen every week.

Have a great day!


Sunday, March 3, 2013

#8Sunday - Drained - Episode 6: Damn You, Harry Potter

Well hello there and welcome back to another #8Sunday. This week finds the illustrious Casey Scott, mutator of mutants extraordinaire, in a less than comfortable position, in the head of her maybe not dead -- but definitely bloodless -- colleague.

If you have no idea what's actually going on, don't feel bad, I really don't either, but you can check out last weeks anyway ;)


The General was at my side even as the shriek came out.


A knife had been rammed into my vertebra. A knife wearing Harry Potter's cloak of invisibility.

My vision blurred and I fell to my knees. I could vaguely hear the General mumbling into some contraption.

I ignored him as the pain flowered in my brain and suddenly Michael was there, begging me to embrace it so he could tell me what had happened to him.

The world coalesced behind my eyes and I was in Michael's head, sifting through his demons.


My schedule has changed at work this weekend so I will be conducting random drive by reading/commenting on the wonderful posts that you can find at the WeWriWa site.

You can find the entire story (sofar) by heading here. Your feedback is always appreciated :)