A Broken (Deadly) Resolution - 1/18

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A Broken (Deadly) Resolution - 1/18

Postby Brian » Fri Jan 14, 2011 10:07 am

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A Broken (Deadly) Resolution - 1/18

Postby Brian » Fri Jan 14, 2011 10:07 am

Only two weeks into the New Year had passed and Tim had already broken his first resolution: Don't kill anyone. Write this scene.

You can post your response (750 words or fewer) here.

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Re: A Broken (Deadly) Resolution - 1/18

Postby sns3guppy » Fri Jan 14, 2011 11:58 am

“Tim, are you in there? It’s very dark!”

“I’m down here, Mom. Light switch is on the left."

“Timothy, I’m not sure how to tell you this, but Doug is dead.”

“I know that, Mother. I killed him.”

“Oh, Tim! You shouldn’t have done that. You said you wouldn’t!”

“I never said I wouldn’t kill Doug. What are you talking about?”

“Your first New Year resolution, Timothy. You said no more killing.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t mean Doug.”

“How can you possibly say that, Tim? You said you wouldn’t kill anyone, and Doug was someone. You killed him.”

“Okay, well, yeah. I didn’t mean Doug, though. He had a split personality, and when I said anyone, I meant any one. Doug had two.”

“Don’t play semantics with me, young man. Who’s going to clean it up?”

“I thought ahead, Mom. I put down plastic sheets.”

“Not a very big one, Tim. It’s all over the place.”

“We were playing Twister. It wasn’t like I planned it. He spun red, and he put his hand on green. He had it coming.”

“I’m not going to sit here and debate it, Tim. Dinner is in three hours, the Bakers are coming over, and the kitchen is a big mess. You need to get up there and clean up.”

“How about if I let the dogs go for a while.? You’ll never know the place wasn’t spotless in twenty minutes. Fair enough?”

“Fair enough, son. Every mother would be lucky to have a son like you.”

“Unless their son doesn’t like them for some reason, Mom, but don’t you worry. I like you.”

Oh, Timmy, you kill me. You really do.”

“Not yet, Mom. Not yet.”

“Timmy, there’s something I do want to talk to you about, seriously.”

“Well then tell me seriously, Mom. I’m all ears.”

“You do have your fathers’ ears, son. God rest his soul.”

“You ought to know, Mom.”

“Yes, well, he had it coming, son. Anyway, here’s the thing. Killing Doug was really close to breaking your first New Year Resolution. It’s only the 5th of January, baby. We had a talk about this. You need to work on your commitment.”

“I know, Mom, but I’m really going to stick to the rest of them, I promise.”

“That’s my boy. Do you have a few minutes, Tim? I’d like to go over the ones you wrote down and then carved into the refrigerator door with a rusty sixteen penny nail.”

“I thought you’d like that, Mom.”

“Every mother loves a son who doesn’t make her buy more fridge magnets, Timothy. What about number two, ‘I won’t lie any more’?”

“I really meant that, Mom. After I tell Doug’s parents that he fell in a well, I plan on keeping it, too. I really do.”

“Good man, Timothy. How about number three, ‘I resolve to be more helpful’?”

“I said I’d let the dogs out, didn’t I?”

“You sure did, son. Thank you. How about number four? Will you really be going to church every Sunday?”

“I was thinking about it, Mom. They have free crackers and wine.”

“Is that the only reason you go to church, son?”

“No, of course not, Mom. I like to put tacks on the pews. People seem to get the spirit more often, because they jump up and I like that.”

“Very nice, son. How do you plan to accomplish number five? You can’t lose eighty pounds, you know. You only weigh one fifty. I’m concerned about your health, Tim.”

“I already lost it, Mom.”

“Where? You look the same to me.”

“Down by the pond, where the old mineshaft hits the surface.”

“You don’t mean Doug’s younger brother Ricky, do you?”

“Of course I do, Mom. He was nearly exactly eighty pounds, and I think he will be lost for a long, long time.”

“I feel much better, Tim, since beginning this conversation. Don’t forget, dinner is at eight.”

“Okay, Mom, what’s for dinner?”

“We’re having the rest of your father, son.”

“Eew, Mom. You know I hate left overs.”

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Only Himself

Postby angelkat » Fri Jan 14, 2011 1:08 pm

It really was an accident. Standing over the bloodied body on the kitchen floor he looked at the knife on the floor, the handle and blade slick with blood. His past was checkered to say the least. He had just been released on parole, finally let loose from the confines of prison. Vehicular manslaughter had locked him away for a considerable amount of time, but he had kept his head down and nose clean leading to his early release. He had used the same tactic before to get out early from his first degree murder charges.

His buddy had picked up from prison and taken him out to a bar all on New Years Eve. Sitting at the bar drinking a beer as the countdown began; he had sworn he wouldn’t kill anyone else, his days in the lockup were behind him and he wouldn’t go back. He had done so well for the past two weeks. He hadn’t killed the annoying Jersey Shores housewife next door who had called the police on him ten times now simply out of paranoia. He had spared the drunken frat boys the other night who had put a dent in the hood of his truck after a bought of heavy drinking. He had been so well behaved, fought back the urge so many times, but he was determined once in his life to follow through on something good. So how was it that he had managed in the sanctity of his own home to kill someone?

As he walked slowly around the body he noted the pool of blood that was slowly spilling across the floor. The bright crimson sharply contrasted the white linoleum. He looked at the face frozen with shock, the eyes wide open and glassed over with death. He noted the slight trickle of foamy saliva, tinged with the slightest hint of blood as it collected in the corners of the mouth. His death had been painful, that was clear from the look on the man’s face. What was so strange was that he couldn’t remember it.

He remembered he had been standing at the counter, slicing up chicken for his stir fry. He had set the knife down when he walked over to the oven, setting his skillet on top of the burner so it was ready when he was done with the chicken. The dog had been laying on the kitchen floor watching as he worked with the raw meat, her jowls quivering with anticipation at the thought of a morsel being dropped that she might snap up and eat. He had ignored her and returned to his meat, cutting slowly and methodically. When he finished he took the cutting board loaded with meat and the knife over to the stove top. He slid the meat into the pan and turned to put the cutting board into the sink. She lunged at the board, knocking his left hand which was holding the knife into his abdomen, the force of her 125 pound body slamming it deep.

It felt like the knife was slicing through him in slow motion. He felt it tear through his intestines, and slide into his pancreas and liver before nicking his stomach and finally stopping. He looked down and pulled out the knife, coughing slightly in shock. His knees buckled and he slumped to the floor resting on his left side. He laid there and his body went numb as he quickly bled out. It happened so fast his brain didn’t have time to process what was going on.

Standing above his own body he knew he was dead. Interestingly enough that wasn’t what bothered him about the whole thing. What bothered him was that he had broken his resolution. He had been so determined to do something right just once in his life and he had failed miserably. The worst part was he had only himself to blame.

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Re: A Broken (Deadly) Resolution - 1/18

Postby avalanche_of_elysium » Fri Jan 14, 2011 2:06 pm

sns3guppy: Wow! You told a story using only dialogue and it wasn't boring! I was creeped out and laughing my butt off at the same time. Nice job!

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Re: A Broken (Deadly) Resolution - 1/18

Postby sns3guppy » Fri Jan 14, 2011 8:24 pm

Thank you, very much. Now where did I put those left-overs?

I've been experimenting with point of view, lately (got a couple of books from Writers Digest on the subject). I'm curious about getting the characters to reveal more about themselves, instead of requiring narration to do it. I was specifically interested in seeing if a character could be used to remove all the author's commentary, as well as the "he said's" and "she replied's."

I think I tend to rely too much on adjectives and descriptions when I write, and I find that the more I try it, the more complex and daunting writing becomes. Interesting.

Is it possible to write with no point of view, letting each character have their own but with no insight into their thoughts beyond what the character chooses to reveal? Sort of like a true fly-on-the-wall perspective?

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Re: A Broken (Deadly) Resolution - 1/18

Postby Trissa » Sat Jan 15, 2011 6:31 am

I looked at the calendar. January fourth. Four days into the New Year and I already bombed on my Number One resolution. Don't kill anyone. But I have to say, that's better than last year. Last year I made the same resolution and ruined it within minutes after midnight. It was a party at my neighbor's and that sleazy Jim Robertson was trying to go beyond a New Year's kiss. He had it coming, right?

Well, this guy had it coming, too. He cut me off in traffic. In order to do that he had to be speeding. I can't stand scoff-laws so I followed him home. I kept a discreet distance like they do in those cop shows. He didn't see me at all. I parked a block away from his house. Then I took a walk around the block like I was taking in the sights. Quiet neighborhood, no one bothers to look out their windows anymore because they're glued to their TVs. I just knocked on his door like I was looking for someone's house. What guy wouldn't open his door to an attractive 30-something blond? One quick stab and he was cut off.

By rights, those guys shouldn't count. I figure I was doing society a favor subtracting a sleaze and potential road hazard. Like my mama always said, once a person got used to doing those "little crimes" who knew what they were capable of.

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Re: A Broken (Deadly) Resolution - 1/18

Postby Trissa » Sat Jan 15, 2011 6:43 am

Sorry, forgot character was supposed to be "Tim"... (Also posted this response on another wrong thread! Not my day...)

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RE: A Broken (Deadly) Resolution - 1/18

Postby michele » Tue Jan 18, 2011 10:35 am

Many years ago as a child I just loved killing little birds, rodents, snakes, frogs and then it started to interest me in what would it feel like if I found rabbits, cats, squirrels and some small dogs as my subjects. Of course no one knew my secret. I was about 9 or 10 years old. Well, middle school passed and now I reached high school. Friends just seemed to be attracted to me because I was not quite the normal teenager. My friends and I were always looking for the best thrill - defective emotional control was the among the reasons for our actions.
Needless to say we grew apart when we graduated from high school. This was a much more advanced crowd of people in collage who needed to do all the things I dreamed of. Awful things haunted me and when they did I would ease the pain by doing something wild and insane.
There was a play - the name escapes me but it was about Lovecraft's life. I went to school near where he was buried. He was a bit like all of us unusual angry sick people.
One night at rehearsal a girl in a lesser part seemed to make the most stupid mistakes and I was distracted from the mysterious plot. This was not good as I had made a resolution at the new year never to kill a human. It was not an easy resolution to make because I had already pushed a girl into a pond and held her under until she was really dead. No one ever found out about it.
Getting back to the night she (the young girl in the play) came out to her car where I was waiting all covered in black cloth. " I feel badly about this, but I just cannot concentrate with you in the play". She said what are you doing waiting at my car?
I beat her and thrashed her with a brick until she said softly - why? I said, " you do not belong in a play or any other acting part". Then I finished it off. What? - at least I explained why. Now, I could listen and enjoy the rest of the play. She was very logy!!!!
Michele Doreen Parrillo

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RE: A Broken (Deadly) Resolution - 1/18

Postby haze58 » Tue Jan 18, 2011 12:55 pm

Only two weeks into the New Year and Tim had already broken his first resolution: don’t kill anyone. And it wasn’t the least bit accidental. He had planned it, thought about it daily. From the time his eyes opened in the morning until they closed at night, the entire plan coursed through his mind. “The Act,” as he had begun to call it, consumed his life.
Here’s how everything started. The Monday after Christmas, Tim arrived at work at his usual 6:30 AM – an hour earlier than he or anyone else in the office was expected to be there. Three months prior, he had been named Assistant Manager, and from that day he had made it his priority to be the first in the office and the last out. Everyone in the office admired him and enjoyed working with him. That is, everyone except John.
John is our Senior Manager. He and Tim had become close friends soon after Tim hired into the company. John appreciated Tim’s work ethic and enjoyed the fact that they had many common interests. If asked, John would have sworn that he chose Tim for the Assistant Manager job solely based on Tim’s qualifications, that there was no favoritism in his decision. But it was suspicious, at least until their shouting match in the middle of the office that Monday afternoon.
No on in the office knew what had started the fight, and really no one cared. Except me. I’m John’s assistant, Kate. I knew that John had chosen Tim as Assistant Manager first and foremost because of their friendship. I also knew that John expected Tim support him in the office. John was liked by very few people. Tim was disliked by equally few. Strategically, John’s decision made perfect sense. However, rumors began spreading around the office that Tim’s work ethic and leadership had greatly impressed the board of directors and that they were considering replacing John with him. John became bitter and their friendship suffered.
An hour after their fight, John had me call Tim to his office. Upon entering, John didn’t give Tim a chance to sit down. He fired him and gave him an hour to pack his things and leave the building.
Tim called me at home that evening and asked if I would meet him for drinks at a bar around the corner from my apartment. I agreed and arrived to find Tim well past drunk. As the night passed he proceeded to drink and told me all about his plan to push John off the top of our 40 story building. I was shocked.
I invited Tim to my apartment for New Year’s Eve. We began talking, and he told me that his decision had been “heat of the moment” and that he had calmed down. He even told me, somewhat jokingly, that his first resolution for the New Year was not to kill anyone. We laughed and drank and enjoyed the rest of the night.
Two weeks passed, and Tim called me at the office. He asked if I could set up a meeting with John. I told him I would, to be there at two that afternoon. When he arrived, I led him into John’s office. They shook hands and took turns apologizing for all that had happened. Tim asked if John would mind going to the terrace on the top of the building to talk more and have a few drinks. This was not at all an uncommon practice for them—they often escaped the hassle of the office by sneaking upstairs.
This made me leery. I asked if I could tag along. I assumed that Tim wouldn’t try anything if I were there. They agreed.
On the terrace, everything was calm. After an hour and two bourbons and a cigar each, Tim rose from the overstuffed leather chair and walked to the edge of the roof, looking down the 400 feet to the street below. He turned around and glared at John.
“I hate my life,” he said. “I hate you for ruining it. What I’m about to do, I’ve been planning since the day you fired me. Kate there kinda knows all about my plan.”
“Don’t do this, Tim,” I begged. “You promised. And you won’t get away with murdering him.”
“I’m not going to do anything to John,” he yelled, starting to cry. “What’s about to happen has been my plan all along.” He turned around, and jumped.


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