WriChal #2 - Location, location, location...

[Moonlit Naiad]

With certain exceptions, characters and plot form the meat of most stories. And unless you're writing in an epic [fantasy/historical] genre (Tolkien, Jordan, McKiernan, Auel, etc) the location in which a scene/event occurs is only minimally described.

However, a solid description of the location/area can set or greatly affect/modify the mood for an entire scene. Usually, it is complementary to the scene: the description tends to be subtle or minimal, like the candlelight of a romantic dinner, just before someone proposes. But, what if it wasn't?

Typically, you wouldn't have a steamy love scene in the dusty, forlorn attic of a condemned house. Likewise, the forces of good and evil don't tend to square off for the final fight in your high school's auditorium. A martial arts master won't usually instruct his or her star student on the fifty-yard line during the Superbowl. The most swashbuckling rogue isn't likely to pontificate on the highlights of his career in a mud-wrestling arena.

Such unlikely juxtapositions of the thematic content with its setting can, however, provide great building blocks for new stories, or for developing/understanding characters in ways not afforded by classic descriptions. Just what's up with that love scene? Is it a ghost given tangible form for one last poignant moment with his wife? Perhaps the two involved are paranormal investigators (think X-Files) who stumbled across a potent aphrodisiacal amulet in locked trunk. How about the epic battle between good and evil? Perhaps Archangel Gabriel and Ba'al were born into human forms... Perhaps the cafeteria ladies really do serve the Deep Ones and offer up unsuspecting freshmen in pre-lunch sacrificial rituals?

See where I'm going with this?

The challenge is to take a scene and write it in a location that normally wouldn't 'make sense' thematically - and make it work. You don't have to use the examples above, of course. Any genre is fine, from gothic horror to romantic comedy, but here genre plays second fiddle to the seeming conflict between scene and action.

[Ninian]

OK, that sounds awesome. I'm in.

You know, for some reason I was thinking "Classic RPG conflict and plots in a Wild West setting" when you described this ^^; Is the Wild ARMs series a good example of that?

[Moonlit Naiad]

"Classic RPG conflict and plots in a Wild West setting" when you described this ^^; Is the Wild ARMs series a good example of that?

Yep. Well, at least WA3, since I haven't played the other ones. It's also a good example of making it work.

[Alyta]

This might be a stupid question, but are there any other limits or guidelines to the Writing Challenge? Content, length, time limit etc?

[Loremistress Eirien]

Count me in. I need to get my creative juices flowing.

[Moonlit Naiad]

This might be a stupid question, but are there any other limits or guidelines to the Writing Challenge? Content, length, time limit etc?

No limits, whatsoever to the writing. Here's the rule/description post for Writing Challenges. I'm working on a revised ruleset for the Story Forum itself, so when that's posted there prolly will be a little bit highlighting and/or talking about Writing Challenges.

Content: While there is no limits on what one write about, there are limits to what can be posted on MSF. If someone wants to post it to the board/thread, it needs to be kept 'clean.' (ie: no gratuitious sex/violence/gore/etc.)

Length: none. One probably wouldn't want to write a full-length novel on just one writing challenge/exercise, though they certainly can serve as springboards for new stories. Length, though, typically should likely be kept to something adequate/appropriate for the challenge. This one probably can't be done in only a couple sentences, but one of the next two I do (I haven't decided on order, just yet) will call for very short (1-2 sentence) descriptions, so... The previous one had a fixed length of 26 sentences.

Time limits: none. Ideally the exercise should be done within a few days of it being posted, preferably before the next one is posted, but these are for the benefit of the individuals doing them - if you don't have time to do it immediately, do it when you can.

And... there's no such thing as a stupid question.

[Coruscate]

Moving the story per Autumn's request.

Spy Kids

The rain pelted the thin windows, sending a loud thud echoing down the tiled walls. He peered through the thin, speeding lines of light crashing down from above, and in the window ahead he could see their reflection. Ten yards at most were two counter agents, specialists who were quick, subtle, professional and very effective. A chill slinked down his spine, John would have prefered to sit at home and watch cartoons this morning. But duty called, it was a time to bring operation "history lesson" to a close.

The tallish one tipped his weather capped down and slid his hands into his book bag, they would move any minute now.

John quickly chose the way up Third Street, by Ms. Wallace's house. If he broke into a run beyond the corner he could make it up by Acacia and Old Burling St before they caught up. There would be a bike nearby, the purple one out behind the store that Kelly kept there.

John muttered helplessly, "Wait no, no. Kelly doesn't watch the store today its Edwards. Edwards the git, the laziest one in the outfit by far. What if he hasn't prepared?" He grinded his teeth together and gathered his wits about him. He knew he had no choice but to go through with it. The other streets were empty at this time of day; hot spots for cold murder.

He rounded the corner and quickly burst into sprinting speed, the rain seemed to freeze against his cheeks and his breath left clouds of steam in his wake. The puddles were deep and the noise reverberated off of the walls of the apartment. A reflection from an old lorry gave him a glimpse of his pursuers, who were striding to catch up already. An excruciating minute of fear later and John was in the parking lot of the convenience store, packed with customers. Kelly's slow and dull stare greeted him as he came closer, and he well understood what it meant. Chad casually tossed his candy bar into the rubbish bin and reentered the store. Kelly reached under his coat and gave a grim nod to John; he would slow them down, just long enough for Chad to unlock the bikes out back and get them in motion.

The door opened with the decorative jingle of sleigh bells, and the warmth embraced him like a cheering crowd for a cricket player. Eddie spilled a soda on the beverage counter and the store tender came from behind his register to clean it up. Chad and John raced out the back door to the twin seater parked out back. "Get on," Chad called. "We'll be back at the school in a jiffy."

"Hurry," John spit out. "They're after..."

"Shut up man, I know."

John leaped onto the seat and grabbed his friend who pedaled as hard as he could. Behind them they could hear the sounds of a fistfight breaking out, and the concerned adults nearby stopping it. The distraction had bought them some time, but not much.

The wheels of the bike tore valleys into the rushing water that slid down the blacktop and into the flooded gutters. Occasionally the hum of a motor and high pitched gnashing of car wheels sounded off from nearby, but for the most part John's world was one of loud, torrential downpour and the biting, extreme cold of the weather.

The bike skidded to a halt and John embedded his face into Chad's back. "Why are you stopping," John cursed.

"They've been waiting for us."

Ahead of the pair were five other kids waiting at the bottom of the hill on sport bicycles. At the youngest they were two years older than them both.

"Change directions," John exclaimed.

The bike swung to the right and they began down a side street that led to multiple ways out. Neither path led to the school but an escape was top priority. John's hands clutched the package. "We've worked too hard for this, we can't let it go."

The bike accelerated so quickly that John was unable to see, but he could hear a car pulling up from behind them, he turned his head and narrowed his eyes. His heart leapt happily, it was Heidi and her father. The window was already down "do you boys need a ride?"

"Yes," John spoke eagerly. "I need to talk to Mr. Dudley about my shop project, can you drop me off at the school."

Heidi's father smiled. "Of course, we're going there to talk to her English teacher about a recital. I'm very proud of her, doing so well in school."

"Father, really."

John quickly hopped off the back end of the bike. "I'll go home, John. My house is closer."

John mouthed "good luck" to him and sped away in the car. Chad veered to the left and disappeared down a dirt hill.

"So what kind of project are you doing," her father asked.

"Oh... it's a chair, and I just read some... things on the net about how to make the polish shine better and I wanted to ask him if he would buy some of the polish for the class. It's new stuff."

"Sloppy," John thought. "But it would have to do."

"That sounds wonderful, you should come to Heidi's recital after you're done, it's in a half an hour."

John sank in his seat as the car sped past the older kids on the bikes. He hoped that they had not seen him; he wouldn't want Heidi or her father to be injured because of his work.

The rain turned into hail, and the windows near him fogged up from his breathing. "I need to calm down," he thought. "All I need to do is give this to Timmy. Give it to Timmy and I can call dad, and go home. Give it to Timmy, call dad and go home."

The car rocked as it climbed into the driveway, a shadow fell over Heidi and John as her mother stood there with an umbrella, waiting for them.

"Well hello John, come to see Heidi play?"

"Actually I need to talk to the shop teacher, but uh, I'll be sure to drop before I leave."

Her mother smiled "I'm sure you will."

"I'm too nervous," he thought. "Calm down, I must calm down."

He waved to them both as he took off running, his book bag lifted over his head to keep the ice from his head. He focused on the building ahead, the rest of the school became a vague blur he cared not to notice. He gripped the door handle like the top of a cliff and pulled it open, and himself into the room.

Quiet.

He looked around for a few moments and saw nothing. "Where in bloody hell is Timmy," he muttered under his breath. He ran between the classes, opening the doors and searching frantically for his friend. There were only minutes left, and he could feel the time slipping like sand through an hourglass. When he was returning to the first classroom, sweat and rain water dribbling down his forehead, he spotted Timmy slumped over the desk in Mr. Dudley's office.

"Timmy," he yelled. His footsteps echoed through the dry, dusty shop. "Timmy what's wrong?" He shook his friend's shoulders, but he merely murmured coldly, a pile of drool oozing off the top of the desk. "Oh good lord, what happened?"

A shadow fell over them both and a loud hiss followed a nail being driven into John's rib cage. John spun on his heels quickly and tried to shout, but it was too late. His lung had collapsed, and he was barely breathing. He fumbled about, knocking things off of Mr. Dudley's desk. Through the pain and the terror he focused on his assailant.

It was Heidi.

His voice was hoarse, and barely above a whisper. "W-w-why?"

"Why else, John? The Labor Party is a danger to the union, we can't let you have your way."

"B-b-but you," he stammered.

"They were right, a candy bar, a smile and the limeys can't tell the difference."

John's face became puzzled, then agonized as she pressed the trigger again, sending another nail into his leg. Then his stomach and arms. He stumbled backwards and tripped over a stool, pulling down several power tools on top of himself. His body grew colder and he felt warmth spreading out behind his back. He shivered in place as she loomed over him.

"Don't be afraid, you're already dead."

She pulled the trigger a final time, his body heaved and stopped.

She stepped back from the corpse and wiped the nailgun with the hem of her dress. She walked back into the office and picked Timmy up by the back of his shirt and dragged him into the shop. She propped him up against a table and punched him a few times, and then let him collapse into some chairs. She wrapped his hands around the nailgun and left it lying next to his unconscious body.

She picked up John's backpack when the door swung open. She paused terrified, and then relaxed when she realized it was her mother. She tried to speak, but her mother lifted a single finger to her lips. She closed her mouth and nodded. She motioned towards Dudley's office with an inquisitive look on her face and her mother nodded.

Heidi knew that meant. It would look like a school murder by a child overdosed on anti-depressants, terribly jealous of his classmate. But when the constables looked through Dudley's office they would find more than the class roll. Her mother pointed at the bodies and wiped her gloved hands. Heidi nodded back, the bodies and tools were clean, no evidence.

The pair exited the shop from the rear and calmly walked around the building towards the auditorium. "Smile," her mother said. "You're just a regular girl Heidi."

"Yes mother," she remarked with a false smile that had been bred into her.

Her mother faced forward, happy with that the training Heidi had received did her well.

"Mother," she spoke up. "Can we go to Sweeney's after the recital?"

"Why," her mother asked.

"I want some ice cream."