'What If' Game! #3 #whatifgame

OK, so I missed the first Monday of this month...a lot was going on.  I will attempt to be more timely in posting my What If games in the future.  If you've not played this game yet, the rules are simple and fun... I’m going to give you a brief scenario.  You imagine that YOU are the character in the scene and write what YOU would do as the MC of the story.

You do NOT have to be a writer to participate!

This is all just for fun...

Here’s your scenario:

You step through the remains of the abandoned building, now a haven for crack addicts and prostitutes.  A horrible stench assaults your nose, like piss, sex and rotted meat.  Eyes are on you; watching every step, but humans pose no threat to you.  Black leather covers your body and acts as a beacon in the moon’s light.  Full moon.  But it doesn’t matter.  These bastards can transform at will.

Your weapons include a Beretta, armed with silver bullets and a silver parrying dagger at your hip.  You move past comatose bodies and decaying corpses.  Feeding grounds, like a bait pile.  Some stay awake, choosing to face danger rather than kick their addiction.  They’re already dead.  They just don’t know it yet. 

At last you reach a darkened staircase.  The door is stiff but you possess exceptional strength.  It gives with one heave.  The smell grows stronger.  They’re close.  As you investigate your surroundings, looking upward at an empty spiral of stairs for any signs of movement, it occurs to you that not long ago, men and women in suits walked this building; a bustling business tower now reduced to ruin.  When it seems all is clear, you descend, deeper into the depths toward the basement.  The Lycans Lair. 

You wish your heart would thrum wildly the closer you get; your pulse rate would surge.  These would be human reactions to fear.  But what little piece of you that was once human became a distant memory the night they made you one of their own.  What remains is a mixed breed.  A killer, designed to eradicate in one sweep.  Fear is a weakness and you have no weaknesses.

A noise erupts from below.  Your sensitive ears are picking up sounds from two flights below you.  Could be the skittering feet of a mouse pounding against your ear like a base drum.  The sensation returns; a mix of adrenaline and something else.  Something that came with your change – an intense craving to destroy.  Your feet move on impulse, carrying you closer to the sound.  Further into hell you sink. 

And then you find it.

In the corner of a landing it sits; convulsing.  Half naked, its torso gleams with sweat and blood.  The moon through the window is a source of energy, like an iron fist, pounding its power into the vulnerable body lying hunched on the ground.  A halfling, awaiting its change.  Half human, half lycan; bitten recently, lost to fever and whatever else now has it in its grips.  You tip your head.  In spite of the itching desire to rip its throat out, you’re curious.  You’ve never witnessed the change before.  With cautious steps, you approach.  Its muscles grow, becoming more defined with each passing second.  You crouch beside it; a dangerous position for any other species.  Lycans require the full moon for the first change and can transform spontaneously after.  Your hands tremble; anxious to take life.  Tamp it down.  You struggle to wait. 

Something about this creature is…beautiful.  Its face is the perfect combination of flawless and bronze; its body, chiseled and proportionate.  Black hair, drenched in sweat, covers its eyes.  You reach to swipe the hair away.  It grabs hold of your wrist and you’re suddenly caught in its transitional strength.  Still, you could snap its arm from its shoulder, but you don’t.  You pause.  Image after image floods your mind.  Memories.  Of childhood.  Of love and loss.  Every one of them human.  The creature’s eyes, stunning and grey, stare back at you, pleading. 

“Help me.”  It rasps.  “Please.” 

Your mouth hangs open; you’re paralyzed.  The killer instinct begs you to take its life.  It taunts and beseeches every muscle in your body.  But your mind is in a state of shock.  My life; what it once was.  You’ve never sensed this before.  All your memories had been erased, leaving you to wonder at times in this new existence, was I ever human at all?  But here, this creature, this halfling that you’re meant to destroy, has somehow given you that which you’ve yearned for.  Your heart beats with vigor for the first time in centuries.  The halfling releases its grip and falls limp, still convulsing all the while.  The grey disappears as its eyes close; passing out.

Sounds reach your ear once again.  Claws against concrete.  They’re approaching.  But a new sensation takes hold of you.  Confusion swirls in your head; two motives battling each other.  The one that dominates takes you by surprise.  You rise to face your enemy…

'What If' Game! #2 #whatifgame

It's that time again!  As I detailed in the last 'What If' post, I’m going to give you a brief scenario.  You imagine that you are the character in the scene and write what you would do as the MC of the story. You do NOT have to be a writer to participate! 

So come on and give it a shot.  It’s simple and fun!

 Here’s your scenario:   

 The blaring of car alarms yanks you from sleep.  Your eyes open.  The room is dark, aside from beams of light crawling along the ceiling from the traffic outside your window.  A glance over at the clock reveals it’s still much too early to be awake – just after three.  The alarms continue to make a racket from below.  That’s Detroit for ya.  You cover your ears with a pillow and squeeze your eyes shut in hopes of miraculously falling back to sleep.  Problem is, you’re a writer.  You know that once you’re awake, there’s no going back. 

After a few minutes and a good effort, you kick your feet against the mattress in frustration then sit up.  Curses from two men arguing outside echo through the skinny side street and compete against those obnoxious horns and sirens.  Not again.  You don’t bother to peek out because the last time you did, you were met with a glare and a threat.  And since you’re single, living alone, there’s no point in making every night a sleepless one by stepping in to save the day.  The dueling alarms and the bickering have at it while you saunter toward the kitchen. 

With a yawn, you flip on the light, rub your eyes then reach for the coffee tin to make a pot.  The ideas are already swirling in your mind; the dialogue of your characters battling the noise outside.  “Better make it extra strong,” you murmur.  Coffee’s percolating as you make your way to the living room.  Would someone please turn off the damn alarms?!  It’s hard to believe they’re still going.  The culprit who set them off must be long gone by now.  You flip on the TV, not bothering to watch the news report.  It’s only meant to be background noise to hopefully drown out the incessant ruckus in the streets. 

Grabbing your iPod, you plop into your desk chair and power up the computer.  When the screen flickers bright, you plug in the earbuds, pull up the Word doc and prepare to go to town.  A series of thuds, like bowling balls falling onto the ceiling can be heard through the percussion solo of the White Rabbits.  You look up and frown.  Friggin vampires. 

They haven’t been part of society long.  Only in the last few years has anyone actually seen one.  They’re night hunters, feeding mostly on the blood of animals.  A ruling of the courts recently made it possible for them to integrate into society.  Warmies, they call you, of course referring to your blood.  This social acceptance of them bothers you for some reason.

For the most part, the vampires are quiet.  They keep to themselves.  But there’s something odd about the noises you hear upstairs.  Naturally they happen at night, and usually you’re asleep.  But sometimes they’re so loud they rip you from your dreams.  If you had to compare the noises to something, they sound like bodies being dragged across the floor. 

You pull your earbuds out.  The alarms have silenced.  The men have stopped bickering.  Only the chatter of the news remains.

Then the sound of a yelp sends you flipping out of your chair. 

You crash to the floor, momentarily dumbstruck, and look around for the source.   Your eyes settle on the TV screen across the room.  The news report.  A banner flashes across the screen.  In large block letters, a bold contrast to the fearful expression on the news reporter’s face, it reads:  VAMPIRE REBELLION.

The small screen floating to the right of the reporter’s head broadcasts a grisly scene.  Vampires attacking Warmies in the streets of Los Angeles.  Rebellion?  You rise to your feet and glance back in the direction of your bedroom window.  Swallowing a gulp, you turn and tiptoe toward it.  Will the bickering men be dead; lying in a pool of half-sopped blood?  Worse, yet...will there be a brood of vampires feeding on them?  Your ears strain to listen for sounds from above.  Halfway there, a pounding at the door freezes you in your tracks. 

Your hand flies up to your mouth and a scream dies in your throat.  Thump, thump, thump. Your pulse is racing.  You pivot on your heel and glide against the hardwood floors, sneaking toward the door to look through the peephole.  Thump thump thump.  With your nose pressed against the door, you squint one eye and peer through the hole with the other.  Oh no…       

'What If' Game! #1 #whatifgame

Well, after having participated in two ‘What If’ games found on the lovely J.A. Belfield’s blog, I decided to follow suit and host one of my own.  So here’s what I’m going to do: I’m going to give you a brief scenario and RESIST the urge to finish it myself. 

You imagine that you are the character in the scene and write what you would do as the MC of the story.

You do NOT have to be a writer to participate! 

So come on and give it a shot :)  It’s simple and fun…and I’m dying to see what y’all come up with as an ending. 

Here’s your scenario:   

Your eyes fly open.  Darkness has fallen.  Twisted curls of branches loom above you against the blackness of the night.  What happened?  As you sit up, a throbbing ache in your skull forces you to wince.  Clutching the back of your head, you attempt to scour your brain for some recollection of how you wound up lying on the leafy forest bed.  A pleasant evening walk through the State park.  There was a chase.  Your eyes dart in all directions, looking for whatever had been after you.  But the only movement is the light shudder of leaves through the treetops. 

While studying your surroundings, your eyes finally settle on the large object before you; a rather peculiar-looking tree.  How odd.  It’s much larger than the others, with corkscrew boughs and dark black bark.  Snarled roots protrude from the earth at its base.  It doesn’t belong in this forest of maples, birch and oak trees.  In fact, it looks like something straight out of a Tim Burton movie. 

The snap of twigs echoes from behind.  Your head whips back; you grimace at the abrupt movement.  As you scramble to turn your body, a sharp stab of pain shoots through your ankle.  You’ve sprained it. 

A shadow moves on the edge of moonlight shining down into the forest.  Your breath hitches and your heart begins to pound a steady gallop toward frantic.  Swallowing a gulp, you back up against the tree, nestling into the crook of a thick exposed root.  Something tickles your palm and you gasp.  With recoil, you tuck your hand under the opposite arm and strain in the darkness to see what it is.  A piece of fabric is lodged half in and out of the bark, as though a permanent part of the tree.  How?  The strangeness of it manages to divert your attention from whatever lurks in the shadows. 

You tug on the fabric and it pulls easily from the trunk; a ragged scrap of burlap.  With a trembling hand, your fingertips graze the rough bark and move beyond it, disappearing into the ridges of the tree.  Amazing.  Like a…portal.  You allow your wrist, forearm and elbow to vanish into the trunk, then quickly withdraw and examine your limb; completely intact. 

Another crackle.  This one closer than the one before it.  A scan of the forest reveals nothing.

You look back at the mysterious tree.  Reaching inside the bark, you pat around.  Is there something on the other side?  Nothing but open air.  A low, guttural sound rumbles just beyond the clearing behind you.  Your eyes slowly trail back in the direction of the noise.  Silver glowing orbs move closer.  You cautiously scoot over the large root and lean back, allowing your shoulder and chest to merge with the bark. 

The erratic drumming of your heart makes it difficult to breathe evenly.  There is a numbness affecting half of your body; frightening.  But as you consider removing your arm from the tree, you catch sight of a gaping maw housing rows of sharp teeth.  The beast edges toward you.  Glistening strings of saliva dangle from its jaws.  Another growl, more ferocious than the first, has your pulse racing.  The creature lowers its upper body, raising its haunches, as if to pounce.  Your eyes widen.  You take a deep breath and…