The Dinner Hour"We need a refill on salt shakers at table two, a fresh ketchup bottle on tables three, four, and six, and for god's sake, see if we've got a spare pacifier for the kid at table five." Marcheline's lawyer-like voice rattles off instructions faster than anyone can understand them. Taking over her shift is like diving headfirst into an ocean current traveling at a million miles an hour.The Dinner Hour3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
I nod after every ten or so words; after sounding off eight commands in under a breath, Marcheline gasps, "Thank god you always show up for your shift on time." Then she flings off her waiter belt like it was on fire and throws it on the rung. I watch her dash out of the back room like she's being chased.
Poor Marcheline doesn't always do well with the evening rush hours, when anything can happen.
Already in my uniform, I make sure of three final things before I step out into the fray that is Elliot's Diner at 6 PM: 1) my nametag is straight and my name tag, because once I grabbed Pedro's nametag a
Resolution Diary2007Resolution Diary3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Make first million after starting own business.
Applied for a loan. Declined due to excessive account activity. Note: Constant purchasing of rare (albeit mint) wicker chairs is not conducive to bank balance. Wife insistent on selling wicker chairs to find money to start business.
Bought new donut recipe book. Learnt how to make category hard donut, 'Diamond Swizzler'. Delma loves them.
James offered to lend the money if he can become a business partner. Potential.
First million still a long way off. Wife still nagging.
Spent savings on replacing the roof of the conservatory when neighbor's tree uprooted in the November storm.
Update: Dogs should never be fed over two donuts a day. Next Year's Resolution likely…? Find enough money to take Delma to the vets. And make more realistic resolution idea.
Find an appropriate business idea.
Gus Number FiveGus Number FiveGus Number Five3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Jenna and Cindy filled their mouths with watermelon seeds, spitting them fast and hard until the air swarmed with seeds like shiny black dive-bombing gnats. “My seeds are winning,” twelve year old Cin yelled, her thin body tense and urgent with victory.
Jenna just kept spitting seeds. Eight years old, she already knew the seeds that flew the farthest would be Cin's no matter what.
Jenna puckered her mouth preparing for another losing bombardment. Suddenly she paused, lips plump and pouting as the mouth of a painted candy box cupid. Spitting the seeds into her palm, she stared at them for a moment, chewing the end of her pigtail. Then anxious with inspiration, she trotted into the house and minutes later reappeared hugging a fishbowl.
Carefully placing the bowl on the steps, she solemnly stared at the rattled goldfish who darted and wiggled his copper penny of a body. But when Jenna scattered her handful of watermelon seeds into the water, the goldfish paused
A Night at Pinetop's TavernSomewhere in the back alleys of the city's older section there was a crumbling brick building that had been around since before ragtime music was popular. Hanging above a faded green door that led down to the building's cellar was a wooden sign, and despite the peeling paint, you could still make out the bar's name: Pinetop's Tavern. Nobody really knew when Pinetop's first opened; local folks would tell you it had been there since time began, and the world had grown up around it. It was one of those places where the lighting was always dim and the cigarette smoke never dissipated and the cloud you were breathing now had probably been around since W. C. Handy was still alive.A Night at Pinetop's Tavern3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Pinetop's Tavern was a blues joint, and it had been around almost as long as blues music itself. Blues music was a lot simpler than most kinds of musicsimpler chords, simpler lyrics, and most blues musicians couldn't read sheet music. The genre was born on some unknown plantation in the forgotten Deep
How to make Muffin-Tin PiesHow to make Muffin-Tin Pies3 years ago in Reviews & Guides More Like This
This is a really fun recipe I use for the Holidays and parties! ^-^
The steps listed below will make approximately one/one-and-a-half batches of twelve mini mixed-berry pies. Just use a regular muffin tin, and you can use paper muffin cups if you like, but if you don't I recommend spraying the ENTIRE muffin tin (not just the cups) before putting in the dough to help them come out easier.
The Oven will need to be pre-heated to 350 degrees before the pies can go in the oven.
2 1/2 cups flour
1/4 cup sugar
2 teaspoons of salt
1/2 cup shortening (I generally use Crisco)
3/4 cup butter (chilled)
6 Tablespoons of ice water
Making the dough:
1.) Cut up butter into medium-sized cubes and return it to the refrigerator for later use.
2.) Cut up the shortening and drop in chunks into a bowl of ice water.
3.) In a separate bowl (large), combine flour, sugar and salt and then mix well.
3.) After they are chilled, remove the shortening from ice water, the but
Mac and Cheese RecipeMac and Cheese Recipe5 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
Yield: 4 servings
Noodles (any type, enough to feed everyone)
1 cup of grated cheese (any kind)
½ cup of bread crumbs
½ cup of flour
1 cup of milk
½ cup of butter
½ cup of finely chopped onions
1.Start boiling the water
2.Add the bread crumbs and flour to the grated cheese and mix together
(the flour and bread crumbs add texture and help to stop the
cheese from clumping)
3.While the water is bowling melt the ½ cup of butter in a pot.
4.Once the butter has melted add the finely chopped onions, fry until
the onions turn clear.
5.Add the milk to the fried onions and butter.
6.Add the n
How to make Mitarashi dangoHow to make Mitarashi dango4 years ago in Reviews & Guides More Like This
200 g of rice flour
200 ml of hot water
100 ml water
2 1/2 tbsp soy sauce
1 tbsp corn starch
1.) Mix the rice flour and water together.
2.) Knead till dough is as tough as your earlobe.
3.) Fill a pan with water and heat up.
4.) Rip off bite sized pieces of the dough and steam them for 25 minutes
5.) Throw the balls into a bowl and mush together with a wetted wooden spoon.
6.) Knead the dough
7.) Roll out dough into a long stick shape.
8.) With a wetted knife, cut bite sized pieces off.
9.) roll the pieces into balls.
10.) wet skewers and apply an even amount of dumplings to each.
11.) pour sauce over dumplings and enjoy.
1.) Mix all the ingredients in a sauce pan.
2.) Simmer till thickened.
3.) Pour over dangos.
Becoming MatureMaturity: I realized popularity was stupid.Becoming Mature4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
They Say It's HauntedHe's close behind me. "John?"They Say It's Haunted5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Portrait de MoiShe dreamed; she tried; she failed.Portrait de Moi5 years ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
LionheartIts first flicker of awareness was of a hot, musty dim place, though at the time it didn’t know what hot, musty, or dim were. It only knew sensation, proximity, and presence.Lionheart1 year ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
There were others there – like it, but different. And then others still, not like it at all, and one of them lifted one of its shining kindred from the wall, twirling it, dancing light through the air...
A whistle, a clash, a terrible ringing snap, and one of its kin extinguished.
For the first time, it knew fear.
“No good. Another.”
Another was taken, tested, and duly shattered.
“I thought your work better than this.”
“No – here! My greatest yet. Please, test this one, and know I have no better.”
A hand settled upon it, and it tasted sensations beyond its own newborn fear: boredom, distaste, a vague acknowledgement of its fine form and shining steel. It was turned and spun, examined and shaken, and then suddenly whirled high, twisted, and swung shrieking towar
MakeYourOwn FAT SHAKE -recipe-MakeYourOwn FAT SHAKE -recipe-4 years ago in Reviews & Guides More Like This
For one serving, you will need:
2 Hostess® Sno Balls® (one package)
1 cup vanilla ice cream
1/2 cup milk
1/4 tsp vanilla extract
Red food coloring
1. Place all ingredients in a blender. Use 8 drops of food coloring. Cut the Sno Balls® into quarters, and use only 6 quarters (one and a half Sno Balls® total--what you do with the last half is up to you).
2. Blend until smooth.
3. Serve in a tall glass with a straw, and enjoy.
GeorgeGeorge doesn’t eat anything except Cheerios. He says the rings remind him of Infinity and how the world continues to move even when you don’t want it to. He finds the circles fascinating—they move, twirling in his milk, getting older and soggier just like the earth. The twirling of the earth will continue long after George is gone. Does anyone care that it will not stop—even briefly—when they cease to be?George2 months ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
George’s mother said, once, that if you believe in God you will go to Heaven. George went to his uncle’s funeral. His uncle was in a box. In the dirt. He hadn’t gone anywhere, George thought. Did she mean that Heaven was in the ground? He did not know.
George likes going to the park to feed the birds and watch the children on the swings. One day, someone called police officers. Now he is not allowed to watch the children. He only thought it was amazing they could swing so high. He could never swing so high. George thought maybe he could
Helicase Helio and I were always sitting on the stairs, chatting about the lamina and occasionally making snide remarks about ribosomes. There wasn't much for us to do. Our job was to simply be, and let the RNA polymerase scribble down the letters on our foreheads when they came around every once in a while. Helio was a G, I was a C. It wasn't exactly fulfilling, I suppose. There wasn't much to be filled. So to pass the time, we talked.Helicase3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
"You ever wonder?" Helio asked.
"About...well...what's out there." Helio and I were rooted to the stairs, quite happily, but it was awkward to move in. He kind of twisted in the general direction of the closest pore. "Out in the cytoplasm."
"I haven't," I admitted. "What's there to wonder about?"
"That's exactly the thing. I have no idea." Helio sighed, gazing into the distance. "Somehow it feels like we pl
Elf vs. Orc 9Sings-to-Trees' head shot up. He knew Fleabane's barks like the back of his hand. Short, rapid barks, not grating, hysterical ones--somewhere between a greeting and a warning. Fleabane knew the person approaching, but he didn't really like them.Elf vs. Orc 99 years ago in Fantasy More Like This
That meant it was either one of the humans from down the road (excepting Matilda, who brought cheeses and always had a tidbit for a hungry coyote) or the rangers.
"Shit!" Sings-to-Trees leapt to his feet and began kicking Celadon's armor under the bed, followed by the extra blankets.
Celadon got unsteadily to her feet. "What is it?"
"Company. Might be rangers."
She could have asked questions, like "Are you going to turn me in?" or "Why are you panicking, if they're your people?" but Celadon was not inclined to waste time on stupid questions. She looked around hurriedly for a hiding place.
Sings-to-Trees caught her elbow. "Do you trust me?"
"Does it matter?"
"I suppose not."
Getting her into the hiding place was awkward, but Celadon took it in s
PilotI woke in a nest of wires, my arms pulled off to either side, my head back and my eyes fixed at the ceiling. There was a man standing above me, straddling my form, perched precariously at the mouth of the recess I was tucked away in, one hand gripping the frame, the other feeling around the back of my neck. He moved by touch alone, certain in his movements, and his fingers closed over the knot of the wires that resided at the base of my skull and pulled, steadily, drawing it out of the socket and I inhaled sharply at the sensation. Like something had been taken from me, or that I'd lost sight of something important. A piece of me gone. It was a keen sense of loss and my eyes went wet with moisture even as he dropped his hand lower along my neck, almost to the shoulders, and pulled out another plug. The wires by my eyes were thinner, and when he pulled these out my vision went black for a moment and when it returned I felt the world was less clear, like a gray haze had been pulledPilot2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Escape VelocityF = G(m1m2)/r2Escape Velocity3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Black – true black – is the absence of light. Darkness is defined by what it is not, by the lack of something else. When we say a black hole, we truly mean that; black. Blacker than black. An absence of not only light, but of time, distance, anything.
The night was scary when I was little. I hated the dark, but couldn’t bear to sleep so long as the light was on, any light, burning on the other side of my eyelids. I used to have nightmares about dark things in dark corners, shadowy figures with shadowy fingers trailing along my spine. I always woke up cold and fumbling frantically for the lamp, but the aura of light just made the shadows deeper and I turned it off quickly.
Black holes are dead stars. Graves. Tombs that bury light, bury it so deep, swallow entire suns, planets, galaxies. Dead stars take all the light with them like rich men spending fortunes on alabaster monuments and marble headstones.
There are four unmarked graves
Elf vs. Orc 7This was easier said than done.Elf vs. Orc 79 years ago in Fantasy More Like This
She gave him some very practical suggestions about how to tie the ropes. A bit of slack between the feet, enough to shuffle, not enough to run. A rope around the neck as a kind of leash in case she attacked him. He could tell she'd done this sort of thing before.
Sings-to-Trees, at that point, would have been happy just untying her completely and pointing her in the direction of the outhouse, but he had a horrible feeling he'd disappoint her if he didn't at least try to hold up his end. So he steeled himself to stay awake a bit longer and got the ropes set up, and hauled her out of the bed.
Then she wound up needing to use him as a crutch anyway, since her knees kept buckling, so it was a bit of a moot point.
"Can you hold this?" he asked, handing her the leash rope after a few brutal hops toward the door.
"What if I try to escape?"
He sighed. "Just yank it if you feel yourself getting any ideas."
She started laughing, then they took another step and the
Elf vs. Orc 5Sings-to-Trees's primary thought through the whole violent encounter was Not the throat again!Elf vs. Orc 59 years ago in Fantasy More Like This
His neck hurt. He felt like a troll had used his esophagus as a dance floor. This could not be healthy. If he lived through this, he swore he would be nice to his throat for the rest of the year. Hot teas. Scarfs during winter. Anything.
For awhile, he didn't think he was going to live to see sunrise, let alone winter.
Then she'd apologized. The orc had stood there, with a distinctly sheepish expression on her face, and she'd apologized.
None of his patients ever apologized. Most of them couldn't talk, and it didn't seem to occur to the ones who could.
Half of him wanted to reply automatically—No, it's okay, these things happen, don't worry about it—and the other half was jumping up and down screaming You just tried to kill me, you green-faced lunatic! You can't just apologize for trying to kill people!
Perhaps fortunately, his throat was aching too badly
A Guide to Writing Combat-Related Mental IllnessComing Back from Combat: A Writer’s Guide to Combat Related Psychological Illness in FictionA Guide to Writing Combat-Related Mental Illness2 years ago in Reviews & Guides More Like This
The aim of this guide is simple: plenty of people want to write about war, to explore it, to understand it and understand soldiers they know who are in it or have come from it. But, often times putting the aftermath, the pain, and the psychological impact war has on the mind into words is difficult to do well.
This guide exists to help fiction writers accurately portray psychological disorders in their work, because the people who suffer from these disorders and their loved ones deserve honesty and do not deserve to be misrepresented. The guide is here to help writers understand how these disorders come about, how they are treated, and how to think critically about how they might impact the person who has them.
1. A disclaimer, and polemics.
2. Why are you writing a psychological illness into your story?
3. Terms you should be familiar with for this
Elf vs. Orc 6He got a nasty start a few hours later, when he came in to check on her.Elf vs. Orc 69 years ago in Fantasy More Like This
He'd tied her hands, her feet, thrown a loop or two around her waist, and roped everything to the bed, the chair, and the fire iron, just for good measure, He'd done everything short of hog-tying. She wasn't going to get loose in a hurry.
He wasn't sure why he was bothering, really, since he had a horrible feeling that if she said "Will you untie me?" he might do it, and if she said "please," he'd definitely do it.
Still, she didn't seem to be a threat conscious, so maybe that was okay.
Then, because his feelings were still churning and there was nothing for emotional turmoil like hard work, he'd gone off, fed the chickens and the gargoyle, picked peas, turned the compost heap, washed his hands and made soup. By the end, he was really quite exhausted, and ready for at least a nap in his chair.
Then he came back in to discover that her fever had vanished and she was shivering violently with cold.
How To Write For villainsVillains the best staple of any adventure book, in my opinion. Whether it is a simple rival of our hero, or a sadist hell-bent on destroying humanity, they are almost always enjoyable to write for unless you go for the annoying jackass kind that always seems to win and remains incredibly smug about it, those are the villains that we hate.How To Write For villains5 years ago in Reviews & Guides More Like This
In my time on the internetz, I've often found great pieces of literature sullied due to the fact that the villain was misrepresented. Sure, it is interesting to create a mad scientist or something incredibly creepy like Slenderman, but there are certain ways to write for them that just heightens the creepiness, coolness, or annoyingness depending on the villain type. So, I've decided to create a little guide on how I write for villains. This is not the "correct way" to write for villains, nor is it the "ONLY way", it's just the way I use.
What type of villain? There are many different types of villains. There is your comic b