A Writer’s Papyrus

Sorry, this post is off topic (cross posted from my other blog), but in a way relevant if you intend to make your confession using your writing prowess instead of making a video…

Even though we don’t really celebrate Christmas, it is still my favourite time of year.  The hubby accuses me of being a closet shopaholic so I guess I ought to confess that I love going holiday shopping.  If you do celebrate Christmas, then I’m sure this is probably one of the most expensive times of the year - what with Christmas presents to buy and holiday trips to plan over the long break…

Well, guess what?  eBillme is running a shopping confessions contest where you stand a chance of winning the grand prize of $15000.  I’m sure it goes without saying that the extra cash will really come in handy for the holidays.  All you have to do is share a secret shopping experience that you want to confess and enter it to: http://www.shopandconfess.com/. 

You can write a story, post a video (uploaded to Youtube), or use photos for your confession then submit your entry to the website above. 

All I ask in return for sharing this news with you is that you name my blog: http://figur8.net/baby as your referring website.  Good luck!  For more details about this contest, check out the video below:

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Sir Bevin entered the tavern weary from a long day’s ride. He was eager for a hot meal and a warm bed. He was due back at the night’s chapterhouse the following day, but for now, his only thoughts were to fill his empty stomach and rest his weary body.

The tavern bar was dingy and dim, but he had seen far worse before. There were other travellers in the bar but it was far from a full and rowdy night. These were dark times that they were in, and few people dared to take journeys too far away from home.

Sir Bevin sat at a table near the bar and made an order for his meal. The barmaid was a delicate-looking young girl barely out of her teens. She looked timid and out of place to be in a squalid bar. Looking at the features of the gnarled, old man behind the bar, Sir Bevin suspected she must be his daughter.

The girl disappeared into the kitchen and returned shortly to resume her duties tending the tables. A traveller from a nearby table was ready to make payment for his meal and she walked over to his table. Sir Bevin had turned his attention to another table when a commotion broke out at the table nearby.

The bartender had jumped over the counter and knocked the hand of the traveller as he was attempting to pay the barmaid. Gold nuggets flew into the air and landed at his feet. Sir Bevin automatically bent down to pick them up to return them to the owner. The icy cool touch of the gold surprised him but he got up and moved to traveller’s table to return the gold.

“Get out and take your cursed gold from this place!” The bartender screamed. He had one calloused hand around the wrist of his daughter and pushed her behind him.

“I need a room for the night,” the traveller said.

“There are no more rooms available in this inn,” the bartender replied firmly. “Those who are accursed have no business being here.”

Sir Bevin placed the gold nuggets onto the table. The bartender’s eyes locked onto Sir Bevin and followed his arm down to the nuggets he had just released. His eyes darted back to Sir Bevin’s, “Get out! Get out both of you!”

Sir Bevin to a step towards the bartender and he shrank back in fear. There was something happening here that he did not understand. “Sir,” he said. “Please tell me why I am being turned away. I have a room here and my horse is in your stable.”

The bartender looked at Sir Bevin’s hands. “You have touched cursed gold. Now you are tainted by it and we cannot allow you to stay here. Get out before I call the guards.”

Sir Bevin looked at his hand and was startled to see a dark mark forming on his palm. He clutched his wrist with his free hand in alarm and looked at the traveller – the owner of the cursed gold. Only now did he notice that the skin tone of the traveller bore a sickly bluish hue. When the traveller reached out to collect back his gold, Sir Bevin realised the man’s palms had the same black mark that now adorned his own palms.

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Tags: Earth Kingdom, Fantasy, Writing by figur8
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Dawn was breaking over the horizon when Yuriko stopped to set up camp by a brook. After Akira’s capture, she had returned quickly to the tavern to collect their belongings and left the city. It was far better for her to stick to the forests than to remain in the city where she might be recognised and caught. Even after days of travel she was still reeling in shock by her uncle’s betrayal.

Shortly after Akira sat down to speak to Hakumo, Geigamon’s guards had appeared from nowhere and seized him. Most of the customers from the tea house had fled the scene when the guards arrived. Not wanting to appear out of the ordinary, Yuriko had been forced to leave as well. She skulked around the tea house surreptitiously keeping an eye on the entrance until she saw the guards leaving with an unconscious body. Hakumo had followed in their company so there was no denying his part in the capture. Yuriko trailed them from a distance until it became clear that they were headed for the palace. After that, she circled back to the tavern to collect their belongings.

With her uncle no longer trustworthy, Yuriko had nowhere else to go and no one to turn to. She had never felt so alone or afraid. As she sat by the brook, silent tears began to form tracks down her face. It was not until she had lost Akira that she realised how much his presence had reassured her. What would she do now?

She turned the book that her father had given her over in her hands then flipped to the last page with writing. New words had formed, detailing the betrayal. On the last written line were the same words that had appeared when she first read the book after her family’s death: seek the three sisters. But how could she look for them if she did not even know who they were?

Read more…

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Tags: Fantasy, Story of a Girl, Writing by figur8
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Sarah thought frantically.  The meeting was in minutes and she needed to buy more time.  After what Lina had revealed to her about Jared the mole, she knew something was amiss and she had to find out what it was as quickly as possible.  Almost instinctively, she had raised one of her manicured nails to her mouth - nail biting was an old childhood habit that she had not indulged in a very long time. 

Sarah uttered a curse under her breath and got up to pace the room.  She had thought through this deal over and over - it was the right move for Glo-Mac so how did Jared’s relationship with Carli’s play in all of this?  Not once did Jared try to influence any of her business decisions which must mean he was purely a spy for Carli sent to discover her thoughts and nothing more.  She thought back quickly through all the conversations she had had with Jared, the secrets she had shared with him, compromising information - how could that leak affect her company?

Her intercom button buzzed again.  It was Lina bringing the meeting to her attention.  It was time to go.  Sarah picked up her tailored jacket and was about to put it on when a thought crossed her mind.  She hit the button again and spoke, “Send Morgan to see me.  Send an apology to Ms Carter and her team that we’re running late.  Serve the refreshments while they’re waiting.  Stall Harold from entering the meeting room.  I don’t care what you do, just make sure he doesn’t get there before I do.”

Sarah sat down again, grabbed a pen and made a few ammendments to the contracts.  She was not a Worthington for no reason, she thought fiercely.  If Carli wanted to play this game with her, then she had better be prepared for some hardball. 

Sarah hit the speed dial on her mobile phone and soon heard Jared’s husky voice on the other end of the line.  “Hello darling,” she purred into the receiver.  “I was missing you so I decided to give you a call.”

“What about your meeting?” Jared asked in surprise.  “Doesn’t it start now?”

“Harold’s late,” Sarah said nonchalantly. “And you know we can’t start without him - but enough about him.  I was just thinking about last night and I don’t think I can wait until tomorrow to see you.  How about you meet me after work?”

“I was planning to head to the gym,” Jared replied.

“Don’t worry, with what I have planned for us, you’ll be getting a workout you won’t forget,” Sarah interjected suggestively.  “Just meet me at the condo after work - you won’t regret it.”  She clicked off and thought to herself, Or maybe you will…

Other Chapters in this Title
From the Beginning

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Tags: Fiction, Rich Man's Folly by figur8
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Well, what d’ya know, I received an email a few days ago notifying me that I have been made a premier writer for Helium.  What is Helium?  In a nutshell, it’s a writer’s site.  It provides opportunities for regular people, with or without writing experience, to launch their writing careers.  Although I joined this site last year, I haven’t really been writing much for it - that’s why the email came as a bit of a surprise.  It seems my writing level based on the handful of articles I wrote received a score that earned me the title of premier writer - how flattering.  Perhaps there is a chance for me in the writer’s world after all…

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She scrambled up an embankment towards a rock face that led up to the cave. All other thoughts had left her head except the desire to get to her brother’s side as quickly as she could. She started to climb the rock face, but found herself slipping. She looked down at her feet – those hideous red shoes were preventing her from climbing. She kicked them off and they rolled down the embankment, out of sight. Barefoot, she started to climb again.

Then it hit her. It was like a blow to her back. The pain was so forceful that she lost her grip on the rocks. Then she was falling, tumbling, out of control, but she no longer cared for she was on fire – or at least it felt like it. The pain was so unbearable, she wished she could die, for the blissful oblivion of death had to be better than what she felt now.

Although her eyes were open, her vision had darkened. Although she could no longer see, she could feel rocks scraping her face, arms and legs - but they were nothing compared to the searing pain on her back.

Brother! She screamed in her mind. Help me!

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Tags: Fantasy, Writing, Writing Project by figur8
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I realise I haven’t been writing much lately.  For those handful of you following my stories, I apologise of that.  I hope to rectify that in time to come.  It seems I have hit another phase of procrastination and have been struggling to get the story out.  Aside from that, I have a confession to make.  I have been a little too caught up with a new toy and with trying to enlarge my brain mass with “Big Brain”, a new Wii game the hubby recently bought.  The hubby says I’m “addicted”, but I prefer to think of it as improving my skills.

Lately, my mind has been far too occupied with strategies on how to increase my brain mass and smash the hubby’s score to smithereens to think much about what’s been happening with Yuri, Akira, Kyllen and Kyle.  For a while there I thought there might also be something to the story in the previous post but I seem to be stuck for an interesting plot beyond the typical teenage highschool drama which is not something I particularly care to write about.  There are a dime a dozen of those stories out there and mine will be no different.  Nope, if I am to continue that story, I need a more interesting twist to it and I haven’t thought of one yet.

The problem is that I seem to have hit a rut - for want of a better description.  I’m too cushy where I am and because of that, I’m lacking the drive to get out of my comfort zone.  Despite realising the core of the problem, I’m afraid it hasn’t done much to inspire me to get out of said rut - much as I detest the idea that my life might be meaningless and that I will amount to little more than another parent trying to live vicariously through her son because I failed to make something more of my own life. 

My MIL encouraged me to get back into something of my own once the kids are a little older - something she regrets not doing after her kids grew up.  Having the regrets of missing out on building something personal for her ownself, I guess she’s concerned that I might make the same mistake.  For what it’s worth, I think about that a lot.  The choices I’ve made in my life and how things might have been different had I made a single decision differently. 

A friend recently sent me a link to an article about one woman’s initiation into rock climbing and it sent me spiralling back to the days when the heady high of being thirty meters up on a rock face was the only thing I really cared about.  Although I seriously doubt I would have been anywhere as adventurous as Ms Reynolds as far as living life on the fly with limited funds and not knowing where I might be the following day or week, sometimes, in the dead of the night, I find myself missing the Bohemian lifestyle of my rock climbing days.

Did that sound like a tinge of regret?  Perhaps in another life it might have been nice to have a taste of the adventure Ms Reynolds had experience, but with my upbringing and the values my parents had ingrained into me as I was growing up, I’m afraid I wasn’t fully able to breakaway and lead the true life of a Bohemian - not that the opportunity never presented itself to me.  It did.  And I chose not take it up.  So I do not regret my choices because at the end of the day, where I am now is where I would have wanted to be and to have passed up this opportunity at the time it presented itself to me in the hope of buying myself a little more time for adventure would have been the fool-hardy risk of missing out on my happily-ever-after completely.

Perhaps that is what this blog is all about…  My opportunity to live life vicariously through my imagination doing all the things I might have done in another life.  And perhaps that should be the theme of my next story…

And here I was thinking that this blog post was a post about nothing in particular but the ramblings of an uninspired wannabe writer.  Instead, it has helped me clear my thoughts and given me a new direction.  It looks like rambling is a good activity to indulge in every once in a while.

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Tags: Memories, Rambling, Visualisation, Writing by figur8
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Lara was walking down the school hallway looking for her best friend, Jared, when she saw a bunch of tittering girls congregating around something - or someone.  A quick scan of the faces and she realised they were the popular girls - garbed in their branded clothes with painted faces and coiffed hairstyles, they were the epitome of everything she despised.  She was about to walk past them when she saw something that made her halt in shock.

There, in the midst of the girls, was Jared.  He might have been a pop-star signing autographs for his gaggle of fans.  Jared caught her eye just before Lara turned away and started walking in the opposite direction.

“Lara!”  Jared called out, desperately trying to disengage himself from the girls.

Lara walked faster and pretended not to hear.  She heard footsteps running down the corridor followed by the high-pitched chorus of girls blowing kisses and screaming, “See you later, Jared!”

Lara felt a hand on her arm.  “Hey, wait up!”  It had only been a short jog but Jared was already out of breath.  “What’s up with you?”

Lara turned and looked at Jared with an incredulous look on her face.  “What’s up with me? What’s up with you, Mr-I-won-the-cyber-games-championship-and-now-I’m-the-talk-of-the-school?”

Jared laughed.  “Oh them!  Oh please!  You know I find them just as annoying as you do.  They came out of nowhere.  I don’t even know how they knew about the cyber games championship.  Besides, we both know that they would never have given me the time of day if I hadn’t won the cyber games.  Now you and me - we’re the same breed - we’re the geeks of schoolville and we stick together.”

Lara looked at him skeptically, but tried to smile back.  He was still the same Jared - baggy jeans, baseball cap, and horn-rimmed glasses, but yet there was something different about him - the way he cocked his head, the swagger in his walk…  or was she imagining it?

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Tags: Fiction, Writing by figur8
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