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Friday, July 2, 2010

Prompt Friday: "Betwixt"

He had a scar...

He had a scar on his chest, just over his heart; a perfect circle the precise circumference of the mouth of a pint glass from Jessup's. Mostly because the scar did come from a Jessup pint glass. Brody never told anyone about how he'd gotten that scar. It was easy enough to hide, anyway. It was always covered by his shirt in public, and, at this point, was so heal-faded that if anyone saw him bare-chested, that they usually noticed the fact that his left nipple was almost a good inch higher than the right one.

Brody lived over his pubs his entire life. His father, Petey, owned the infamous Reilly O'Reilly's until Brody was eight and Pa went bankrupt. A good Irishman never turns down a good Irish whiskey, but one too many rounds on the house makes for a poor business plan. They moved into his Uncle Seamus' apartment until they got back on their feet, but the call of good Sir Jameson from downstairs was too strong for Brody's Pa. Uncle Seamus just nodded quietly and turned the living room into a more permanent bedroom.

Brody's scar only hurt during a waning crescent moon. It was only a dull ache, but it was still there, itching away under his skin like pointed fingernails on a particularly ticklish patch of skin. Uncle Seamus told him to rub Guinness on it, to appease the old Celtic gods. Despite the fact that Brody scoffed at the idea, it actually worked. The hollow sound his chest made when he rubbed his fingers over the spot was disconcerting, as was the silence in his ribcage.

Pa's drinking always got worse when the money got better. Brody knew his father could be highly motivated, but only if there was a huge obstacle in his path. Deirdre, the woman who owned Jessup's, saw the truth of the matter, too. She was constantly threatening to fire Petey, and that kept him on the straight and narrow long enough for Brody to finish out high school in one place. The graduation party was another story entirely. Petey was passed out under the pool table, Uncle Seamus refused to drive the fifteen minutes (in the rain) to pick his alcohol-sodden brother up off yet another sticky floor, Deirdre was making a face that highlighted just how well she could simultaneously purse her lips and narrow her eyes, and Brody was ushering all of his friends quietly out the door.

"I wish he would stop drinking," he whispered to Dierdre, once the pub was empty. She looked at him for a moment, out of the corner of her eye, before pursing her lips once more for emphasis.

"Come with me."

Brody was confused, but followed her behind the bar. "What're you doing?" he asked as she sliced a lime and rubbed it around the edge of a clean pint glass.

Without speaking, she whirled into Brody's personal space, slamming the rim of the pint glass against his chest, murmuring under her breath in a language he didn't understand.


Before he could finish, there was a terrible, stinging pain all around the edge of the glass, burning into his skin, through his shirt. Brody tried to pull away, startled and in agonizing pain, but his body wouldn't cooperate, and the burning turned into a straining pull against his squirming skin.

Petey never understood what was so appealing about the taste of alcohol. He also didn't understand why he woke up staring at the underside of a pool table.

Before it burned down, Jessup's was famous for the automated life-sized human heart that the owner, Dierdre, kept over the bar, next to a bottle of Bailey's that she claimed was nearly a century old.

nt - 7/02/10

Notes: A little magical realism, perhaps? I don't know, it turned out a little more serious than I ultimately wanted it to be.

*Prompt taken from The Write Brain Workbook: 366 Exercises to Liberate Your Writing by Bonnie Neubauer

Wednesday, June 30, 2010

Question Wednesday

Q: So... Fifth series of Doctor Who... thoughts?


First off, let's briefly discuss how quickly that season went. It feels like last week that I was sitting down in front of my computer, anxiously trolling the internet for the series premiere. There's little more exciting than a regeneration, and while I think it took Moffie a while to develop 11's personality, I think by the middle/end of the series, it really fell into stride.

Second, that story arc was phenomenal. In the beginning, I was getting really frustrated at the lack of information that was being provided. But then, it started rolling downhill and I could NOT tear myself away from what was going on. Yes, it did have its plotholes: Would all of the Doctor's enemies really team up like that? If the Doctor is the most dangerous being in the planet (which I totally called, by the way), why would you put him in a (non-blue) BOX that keeps him in a permanent stasis as opposed to... oh, I don't know... KILLING him? Way to fail, Daleks; you KNOW the Doctor is sneaky and is likely to figure out a way out of whatever trap you THOUGHT you laid for him.

And, intellectually, I know that you can't kill the Doctor if you're going to continue the show (duh) and have an episode written by Neil Gaiman, but there must have been a better way out of that plot hole. The way that the Doctor crossed over his own time line and that it was planned WAY in advance that 11 was going to tell Amy to "remember" all the way in the fifth episode, was a bit of writing that blew my mind a bit. And while some of the episodes could have been a bit better, overall, they were all very enjoyable. I also may have a huge soft spot for the character of Van Gogh...

Also, I was shocked to find that I absolutely, positively fell in love with Rory.

I knew I was going to love Amy (especially Baby!Amy), and that came free and easy, but Rory was a total surprise for me. I think it had something to do with the way that he got along with the Doctor, despite Amy's (obvious) feelings for 11, and the fact that Auton Rory guarded her for over 2000 years. And that he died no less than two times in the season. And the ponytail. That really cinched it for me. I guess I just like how they extended the "Doctor and Companion" dynamic to a somewhat functional threesome relationship. I thought that was a good change of pace.

Amy Pond. I want to sit down and have coffee with that girl. She is the standard companion fare -- young female without a particular direction in life, but with dreams of something bigger -- but I feel like she's got some of the best qualities of both Rose and Donna. Sure, she has that romantic interest in the Doctor, but she also calls him out, questions and comes up with her own ideas. And she's sassy. You have to love a sassy girl. She is take-charge and fearless and sure of herself and that's why Amy Pond is awesome.

I can do without River Song, though. She's really starting to irritate me. Her and the "Geronimo" catch phrase can be eliminated altogether and I'll be perfectly content.

Matt Smith has really started to get into the groove of playing the Doctor. In the beginning, he was very heavily influenced by Tennant's 10, I think, with the exuberance and whatnot, yet not as clever (which I was kind of okay with, because the cleverness was given to Amy), and by the end, he was really rocking the bow tie and suspenders (and fez -- I actually adore the fez) and the one-liners and giving the Doctor a new dimension.

And, despite his flaws I have put my faith in Moffie, and am genuinely looking forward to next season. Christmas cannot come soon enough...

Monday, June 28, 2010

Status Report Monday (screw you, 90 degree weather)

There's a reason I don't live in Ecuador. Another string of 90 degree days to make me feel like I'm going to throw up and then pass out the second I step outside. I don't remember being this nauseated by extreme heat before.

Anyway, I have been slowly plugging away at Anomaly of late. I picked up an extra day of 'lette driving work, so that's putting a limit on my free time, but I like my day job that much that I don't mind terribly. I know, I know, I'm supposed to be writing, but I think I need the tiniest mental break from all the pressure to deliver something amazing. It's not helping the creative juices.

That being said, I think my break from Harem has finally paid off; I'm about ready to pick up that manuscript again and make some progress.

(Grumble, I just burnt my toast.)

Futhermore, Perchance to Dream has really been nagging the hell out of me lately. I have snippets of scenes written on post it notes all over my mirror. I wish I had some time to work on that. Ah, well, one thing at a time.

That being said, I need to go do some work-work and then some writing-work. But only if I don't melt first.