(no subject)
Okay, so, I failed hard at the Grand Prix. Including accidentally breaking the rules, despite having read them at least three times. And now I have guilt!
Anyway, here are the two things I did manage to write for it. I was author RU01AC014.
Round One, Prompt: Muglug
Title: From My World
Rating: E
Summary: Ambrose's last day in his world.
“Adelpha, Ambrose, time to come eat,” the woman called from the kitchen, as she ladled out three bowls of velvety soup.
A young woman with dark wavy hair skipped up to her mother's side, her skirts fluttering behind her. “Mamma, I have to hurry! Attis will be here to get me soon.”
“Oh, but we can't have your stomach growling, not if you plan on marrying the best catch in all of Greece one day!” She patted her daughter's cheek a little harder than necessary and pushed the bowl of soup into her hand. “There. Now where's your brother? Ambrose! Get in here, now!”
Thirteen years old, and at that awkward state where his hands and feet were too big for the rest of his slender frame, Ambrose came dragging in the room and slumped into his chair, his eyes never leaving the metal and glass contraption in his hands.
“Ambrose,” his chided, “How many times have I told you?” He looked up at her and mouthed along, “No playing with gadgets at the dinner table.” He sighed and looked back at his current project. “But Mamma, I've almost got it fixed! I want to show it to Father tonight.”
“You'll have plenty of time to finish it on the ride out to the island. Now give it to me!” She held out her hand expectantly, and watched as he trudged up to her and traded it for his bowl of soup. The sulky expression lifted, though, when he smelt the lemon and chicken in his bowl.
“I vul onomelugva!” Ambrose said fervently, casting a mischievous eye at his sister, as he returned to the table. “Mamma,” she said through gritted teeth, “Make Ambrose stop talking backwards. He's just trying to bother me!” Grinning, he leaned over the table to her and started poking her in the ribs, chanting the phrase faster and faster. She tried to push his hands away, but he continued teasing her until he had lost most of the syllables and was just saying “Muglug, muglug!” between his giggles.
“Ambrose! Stop that right now! You'll have to hurry if you're going to take your father his dinner before this storm rolls in.” Ambrose pulled back, still smirking at his sister's irritation, and began to drink his soup greedily.
“It'll be fine, I've got the MDWDASD installed on my boat now,” he mumbled between slurps. He paused at their matching blank looks. “You know, the Multi-Directional Wave Defying Anti-Sinking Device?”
His sister continued to stare at him, while his mother just shook her head and began ladling out soup into a jar. “If you didn't always dawdle about and get caught up in storms, you wouldn't need something like that.” Ambrose shrugged as he tipped his bowl up to drink the last of his soup.
“Can't I have a little more before I go?” he asked, reluctantly taking the sealed jar from his mother. She took his chin between her fingers and shook her head. “You get this to your father, then get back here safe and sound. I'll be waiting for you with a nice, hot bowl of your muglug,” she said, teasing him with his name for it. She planted a firm kiss on his forehead and shooed him towards the door.
Grabbing his little gadget from the counter, he gave her a quick return kiss and ran outside to his boat. His father's lighthouse was on an island in the mouth of the small bay, where it warned ships of the treacherous currents and unusual weather patterns that often sprung up along this part of the coast. Ambrose wasted no time in setting off, and, after adjusting his MDWDASD to keep him sailing steadily, he turned his attentions to fixing the last few glitches in his new gadget.
He was so engrossed in it, he didn't notice the winds picking up and the sea churning in response. The MDWDASD lived up to its name, and he was unaffected by the waves crashing around him, until, suddenly, he was being tilted sideways. He looked up, and saw that a whirlpool had formed out of nowhere, and he was being quickly drawn around and around, spiraling down towards the deep black center.
Panicking, he frantically threw every switch on the MDWDASD, but it was too late - the sea had him in its grasp. As he was flung to the floor of the boat, he looked up, out of the funnel of water. He saw his father's light flash across the sky for one last time, and he held his breath as the sea overtook him.
Round Four, Prompt: Did I say you could move?
Title: You
Rating: M, for hate-speech and pondering of possible crimes committed
Summary: You find an intruder lurking about, and let him know exactly what you think of him.
Notes: This is a bit of a departure from what I usually write, in both content and style. It does, however, really delve into how I see Glitch's subconscious.
You walk out into a junkyard, searching for the bits of machinery you need to complete your work. It doesn't take long, and, with full pockets, you begin to head back. Suddenly, a flash of movement catches your eye. You turn, picking your way though the rubbish heaps, trying to catch a glimpse of the intruder.
You round a corner and spot a man in brown. It's a ragged headcase, and he's staring with wide-eyes back at you. “Hey! What do you think you're doing here?” you shout. He doesn't reply, but instead begins to mutter to himself.
“I'm talking to you, you know. This is private property. Can't you read that sign?” The headcase looks up at the prominent red and black warning sign, then turns back to continue staring at you. You roll your eyes at his blank expression. “Look, I don't care if your brain is gone, criminals never change. I won't have you lurking around here! I'm going to go call a tin man to come pick you up.”
You start to walk away, but notice out of the corner of your eye that the headcase tries to follow you. “Did I say you could move?” you shout, turning back to him. The zipperhead stops and returns your stare insolently.
“You know, some people feel sorry for you lot. Think it's cruel, what they do to you. I don't.” You exchange cool glares with him. “I'm glad they tore open your head. Got that filthy brain of yours out. Probably wasn't ever good for anything anyway. I mean, who knows what horrible thing you did to deserve that.” You take a step closer and watch as the mindless criminal clenches his fists and steps up in return.
“Do you even know? I'd imagine we can narrow it down - there aren't that many crimes worth losing your mind over.” You eye him critically. “With that coat, you must have been in royal service at some point. You could have been an assassin. But no, any worthwhile assassin would have the means to kill himself before suffering that fate.”
The headcase looks at you thoughtfully, as if he were trying to discover his crime along with you. “What else is punishable by debrainment? Ah - maybe you're a child molester. Is that it? Did you get an eye for some nobleman's son or daughter?” Seeing his disgusted expression, you change your mind. “No, I don't think so. You don't look the type.”
“Treason, then, perhaps? Did you betray the very people you were closest to?” You see him shudder convulsively, and know that you have hit on something. “That must be it then. They make a tight-knit group, those that work for the crown. They must have been like family to you, yet here you are. They turned on you just like you turned on them, and now you're nothing but a worthless shell.”
He eyes you angrily, and begins to walk forward. “Oh? You want to fight me over it? Doesn't matter, it won't change what you are - what you've done! Though it would make me feel a lot better to see you knocked out on the ground. So come on!”
You move closer, watching as he stalks up to meet you, both of you trembling with rage. You rear back, ready to meet his attack with one of your own. You yell as your fist makes contact, pain shooting up your arm and a shattering noise filling your ears.
You stumble back in shock - the headcase has disappeared! You stay on the defense, ready for a sudden return, as you look down at your throbbing fist. An icy horror fills you as you stare into the shards of glass protruding from your hand. You twist your wrist so that the largest fragment is facing you. Even through the dripping blood, you can make out the royal crowns on your collar, and the glint of silver above your eyes.
Anyway, here are the two things I did manage to write for it. I was author RU01AC014.
Round One, Prompt: Muglug
Title: From My World
Rating: E
Summary: Ambrose's last day in his world.
“Adelpha, Ambrose, time to come eat,” the woman called from the kitchen, as she ladled out three bowls of velvety soup.
A young woman with dark wavy hair skipped up to her mother's side, her skirts fluttering behind her. “Mamma, I have to hurry! Attis will be here to get me soon.”
“Oh, but we can't have your stomach growling, not if you plan on marrying the best catch in all of Greece one day!” She patted her daughter's cheek a little harder than necessary and pushed the bowl of soup into her hand. “There. Now where's your brother? Ambrose! Get in here, now!”
Thirteen years old, and at that awkward state where his hands and feet were too big for the rest of his slender frame, Ambrose came dragging in the room and slumped into his chair, his eyes never leaving the metal and glass contraption in his hands.
“Ambrose,” his chided, “How many times have I told you?” He looked up at her and mouthed along, “No playing with gadgets at the dinner table.” He sighed and looked back at his current project. “But Mamma, I've almost got it fixed! I want to show it to Father tonight.”
“You'll have plenty of time to finish it on the ride out to the island. Now give it to me!” She held out her hand expectantly, and watched as he trudged up to her and traded it for his bowl of soup. The sulky expression lifted, though, when he smelt the lemon and chicken in his bowl.
“I vul onomelugva!” Ambrose said fervently, casting a mischievous eye at his sister, as he returned to the table. “Mamma,” she said through gritted teeth, “Make Ambrose stop talking backwards. He's just trying to bother me!” Grinning, he leaned over the table to her and started poking her in the ribs, chanting the phrase faster and faster. She tried to push his hands away, but he continued teasing her until he had lost most of the syllables and was just saying “Muglug, muglug!” between his giggles.
“Ambrose! Stop that right now! You'll have to hurry if you're going to take your father his dinner before this storm rolls in.” Ambrose pulled back, still smirking at his sister's irritation, and began to drink his soup greedily.
“It'll be fine, I've got the MDWDASD installed on my boat now,” he mumbled between slurps. He paused at their matching blank looks. “You know, the Multi-Directional Wave Defying Anti-Sinking Device?”
His sister continued to stare at him, while his mother just shook her head and began ladling out soup into a jar. “If you didn't always dawdle about and get caught up in storms, you wouldn't need something like that.” Ambrose shrugged as he tipped his bowl up to drink the last of his soup.
“Can't I have a little more before I go?” he asked, reluctantly taking the sealed jar from his mother. She took his chin between her fingers and shook her head. “You get this to your father, then get back here safe and sound. I'll be waiting for you with a nice, hot bowl of your muglug,” she said, teasing him with his name for it. She planted a firm kiss on his forehead and shooed him towards the door.
Grabbing his little gadget from the counter, he gave her a quick return kiss and ran outside to his boat. His father's lighthouse was on an island in the mouth of the small bay, where it warned ships of the treacherous currents and unusual weather patterns that often sprung up along this part of the coast. Ambrose wasted no time in setting off, and, after adjusting his MDWDASD to keep him sailing steadily, he turned his attentions to fixing the last few glitches in his new gadget.
He was so engrossed in it, he didn't notice the winds picking up and the sea churning in response. The MDWDASD lived up to its name, and he was unaffected by the waves crashing around him, until, suddenly, he was being tilted sideways. He looked up, and saw that a whirlpool had formed out of nowhere, and he was being quickly drawn around and around, spiraling down towards the deep black center.
Panicking, he frantically threw every switch on the MDWDASD, but it was too late - the sea had him in its grasp. As he was flung to the floor of the boat, he looked up, out of the funnel of water. He saw his father's light flash across the sky for one last time, and he held his breath as the sea overtook him.
Round Four, Prompt: Did I say you could move?
Title: You
Rating: M, for hate-speech and pondering of possible crimes committed
Summary: You find an intruder lurking about, and let him know exactly what you think of him.
Notes: This is a bit of a departure from what I usually write, in both content and style. It does, however, really delve into how I see Glitch's subconscious.
You walk out into a junkyard, searching for the bits of machinery you need to complete your work. It doesn't take long, and, with full pockets, you begin to head back. Suddenly, a flash of movement catches your eye. You turn, picking your way though the rubbish heaps, trying to catch a glimpse of the intruder.
You round a corner and spot a man in brown. It's a ragged headcase, and he's staring with wide-eyes back at you. “Hey! What do you think you're doing here?” you shout. He doesn't reply, but instead begins to mutter to himself.
“I'm talking to you, you know. This is private property. Can't you read that sign?” The headcase looks up at the prominent red and black warning sign, then turns back to continue staring at you. You roll your eyes at his blank expression. “Look, I don't care if your brain is gone, criminals never change. I won't have you lurking around here! I'm going to go call a tin man to come pick you up.”
You start to walk away, but notice out of the corner of your eye that the headcase tries to follow you. “Did I say you could move?” you shout, turning back to him. The zipperhead stops and returns your stare insolently.
“You know, some people feel sorry for you lot. Think it's cruel, what they do to you. I don't.” You exchange cool glares with him. “I'm glad they tore open your head. Got that filthy brain of yours out. Probably wasn't ever good for anything anyway. I mean, who knows what horrible thing you did to deserve that.” You take a step closer and watch as the mindless criminal clenches his fists and steps up in return.
“Do you even know? I'd imagine we can narrow it down - there aren't that many crimes worth losing your mind over.” You eye him critically. “With that coat, you must have been in royal service at some point. You could have been an assassin. But no, any worthwhile assassin would have the means to kill himself before suffering that fate.”
The headcase looks at you thoughtfully, as if he were trying to discover his crime along with you. “What else is punishable by debrainment? Ah - maybe you're a child molester. Is that it? Did you get an eye for some nobleman's son or daughter?” Seeing his disgusted expression, you change your mind. “No, I don't think so. You don't look the type.”
“Treason, then, perhaps? Did you betray the very people you were closest to?” You see him shudder convulsively, and know that you have hit on something. “That must be it then. They make a tight-knit group, those that work for the crown. They must have been like family to you, yet here you are. They turned on you just like you turned on them, and now you're nothing but a worthless shell.”
He eyes you angrily, and begins to walk forward. “Oh? You want to fight me over it? Doesn't matter, it won't change what you are - what you've done! Though it would make me feel a lot better to see you knocked out on the ground. So come on!”
You move closer, watching as he stalks up to meet you, both of you trembling with rage. You rear back, ready to meet his attack with one of your own. You yell as your fist makes contact, pain shooting up your arm and a shattering noise filling your ears.
You stumble back in shock - the headcase has disappeared! You stay on the defense, ready for a sudden return, as you look down at your throbbing fist. An icy horror fills you as you stare into the shards of glass protruding from your hand. You twist your wrist so that the largest fragment is facing you. Even through the dripping blood, you can make out the royal crowns on your collar, and the glint of silver above your eyes.