I’ve decided to join Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers.
It’s a writing challenge in response to a photograph Rochelle posts each Wednesday.
The kicker is that the submission must be 100 words or less.
That’s a real challenge for me because:
1. I’m a sociologist by training and no one can write long, drawn out, complicated sentences like a sociologist can (except maybe a philosopher, but I doubt it)–see what I mean?
2. I’m in total, absolute, diabolically complete love with adjectives.
3. I never met an adverb that I didn’t invite in willingly and unquestioningly.
4. I feel the need to explain myself over and over and over again. Yes. I do.
5. Having deadlines and word limits makes me stressed and stress gets me all conflusterated.
But, I’ve never let a list of five things stop me from doing anything before, so why start (stop?) now?
Here I go.
He dropped to his knees, his body trembling.
With raw, unfamiliar hands, he wiped his tear-stung eyes.
“It’s so freaking bright. Where the hell am I?”
The eerie sound of air whispering through emptiness answered him.
“How long have I been out here? What happened to me?”
He moaned as his voice disappeared into the vacuum of silence.
“Am I hot or cold? I can’t tell.” He frantically slapped his arms, then legs, to feel something real.
After a few moments he looked up, squinting. “Are those igloos?”
Pushing himself up, he grabbed a handful of sand.
I counted. It was exactly 97 words. But were they 97 good words?