WRITING MEME all caps mean it's exciting

[lassiface.livejournal.com]

HEY JERKFACES
Remember that one time someone posted a writing meme and we all wrote stuff and we read them and it was good?


LET'S HAVE ANOTHER WRITING MEME

I'm sleepy so I'm not making this pretty, plus I hate you guys, you deserve nothing pretty. The run down of this classic meme I have chosen:

1) OPEN UP YOUR MUSIC PLAYER PUT IT ON SHUFFLE
2) FIRST FIVE SONGS THAT COME UP USE THEM TO WRITE FIVE STORIES INVOLVING CNC
3) I WAS TRYING TO MAKE MINE IN UNDER 200 WORDS, BUT I DON'T REALLY CARE HOW LONG YOU MAKE IT
4) THEY CAN BE SEPARATE, THEY CAN BE 5 PARTS OF A WHOLE STORY, THEY CAN BE ABOUT ONE CHARACTER OR ONE FOR EACH OF YOUR CHARACTERS, WHATEVER STRIKES YOU.
5) POST
6) READ

Okay. How does that sound? Excellent. Get to work.

Comments

EW DON'T READ THIS EITHER

[spadassin.livejournal.com]

Oh, just when you think you're in control
Just when you think you've got a hold
Just when you get on a roll
Oh here it goes, here it goes, here it goes again
lyrics. (http://www.metrolyrics.com/here-it-goes-again-lyrics-ok-go.html)

It had been nearly a month and a half. Not the longest stretch of time, but still a relatively decent amount. She didn't know why, but it felt as if it had been years rather than weeks; her muscles felt stiff, her mind was fuzzy. She knew that her skin was turning more translucent by the day, that her skin was stretching tight over her bones. Her freckles must have looked like speckles of dirt or blood splattered across her face; Joan called it her "game face," and Scatty had laughed when she'd first mentioned it. But now was not the time to joke about such things.

If she had to take a guess, she would have to say that it was because of her excess expression of emotion over the past two weeks or so. She was not used to feeling so many things at once, and to say the least, it was putting a strain on her body and mind. But she would make it, she would always endure.

The punching bag was stiff beneath her fist, and she felt the tremor from the blow run up her arm. Gritting her teeth, Scathach threw another punch, releasing all of her frustration and worry into that single blow. Once her knuckles hit the leather, there was a moment where it felt as if nothing happened, as if her attack had done nothing.

Then, the seam of the bag split, and gravel began to pour out of the casing, clattering at her feet. She stared at the small pile apathetically, and then turned away, heading towards the stairs that led to her private quarters.

She would have to feed again tonight. There was no more getting around it.