Tag Archive | throwback thursday

Throwback Thursday – Briars & One Sharp Mother

Oct27

October 27, 2011. I was in the middle of a Giraffe Call – I often was, back then. 🙂 This one was “Spooks, Creeps, Ghosts, and Ghouls” And Rix had asked for more Baram.

What we got was Baram’s family, in their first appearance:

Jaelie was in the garden when the gods attacked. The garden, such as it was, was her territory, her sanctum and responsibility. She’d been the first to be hired, such as it was, by Baram (“bought” might have been more accurate, but the pay was good and the work not onerous, and she had little to complain of), the first to come looking for him after graduation, intrigued by the legend he’d left behind, and she’d thus been the first to carve out her own place in his haven.

Continue reading it here: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/160866.html

I really like Jaelie. I enjoyed taking Baram’s story and turning him from a cartoonish villain into someone with depth, someone who liked protecting. This wasn’t the first step in that process, but it really helped cement it: Baram was a person; he surrounded himself with people – tough people, but most definitely people.

And I still really, really like Jaelie saying ““Yield better.” 😉

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1192188.html. You can comment here or there. comment count unavailable

A #ThrowbackThursday for Pride Month

Jun23

June 23, 2006: If I recall correctly, I had a lyric from Sweet Southern Comfort, by Buddy Jewel, stuck in my head. Out of that, we got this little piece:

Kissing Gary Williams’ sister in the back of the arcade after prom while our dates played Street Fighter… what a way to start!

It all started innocently enough… okay, it didn’t, but it looked innocent, at least. The two of us, dressed to the nines, with $50 hair cuts and 4″ heels, rained out of the traditional post-prom miniature golf and three games past pretending to care who was winning. We sighed nearly in unison.

“I thought there’d be more kissing,” she confessed.

“I thought there’d be necking in the back of Gary’s car,” I countered.

“That’s my brother!” she exclaimed (not for the first time), shocked and titillated.

“That’s okay,” I grinned, “I like you better anyway.”

She had eyes the same amazing, dangerous grey-blue as her brother, I noticed, tiny wrists, and the most beautiful collarbones I had ever seen. I put my hand on the back of her perfect neck and kissed her the way I wanted her brother to kiss me.

It wasn’t until I pulled back, several heartbeats later, that I thought to be nervous. It was an excruciatingly long second before she looked up at me with a stunned look… and tilted her face in a way that I had no doubt meant she wanted me to do it again.

Our dates found us an hour or so later, entangled in each other in the landscaping by the 5th hole, soaked to the skin and loving it.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1128777.html. You can comment here or there. comment count unavailable

#ThrowbackThursday: 100 millihelens

Jun2

June 2, 2005: I had to go way back for this one; turns out I don’t write on June 2 very often. I was in a microfiction phase back then, certainly not for the first or last time. This is actually one of my favorites:

This is what they mean when they say “she’ll leave a bad taste in your mouth.”

Look at her. She’s fragile and lovely, like a butterfly’s wings, like a peacock feather (the eyes of a jealous goddess). She will break in your hand if you’re not careful; she’ll fly away if you’re not patient. You are drawn like a (dull, drab) moth to those lovely colors, the brilliant blue of her eyes and the clear gold of her hair. If you were a more clever predator, you’d realize that (as with many pretty little things) those bright hues signify “poison.”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1116864.html. You can comment here or there. comment count unavailable

#ThrowbackThursday: an Icon-flash

May26

May 26, 2012: I was working through a flash fiction for every icon I had (unsurprisingly, I never finished).

This one was for this icon:

Shooting Star

Icon by [personal profile] later_tuesday

Yeah, the first one of the Asteroid-hits took us by surprise. I mean, shooting stars didn’t hit the earth that hard very frequently, and when they did – crater, some rock, that was it.

Nobody expected there to be sentient life, not in that first one. And, because the government did a quick and thorough job of covering it up (I know, I was there), the rest of the world wasn’t expecting the second one, either, or the third.

By the thirty-seventh of these Shooting Stars, everybody knew. Hobos who lived in shacks in the desert knew (and I’m not counting that guy who got superpowers because the asteroid almost landed on him).

continue reading The Shooting Star Problem here.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1111547.html. You can comment here or there. comment count unavailable

#ThrowbackThursday: Alone Together

May19

May 19, 2011: [community profile] dailyprompt: “eight line poem” and “I want to be alone.”
I wrote something with placeholders for names and, as I went… I realized that the placeholders made more sense than names:

“I want to be alone.” [3] stared down at her notebook, the pencil limp in her hand.

“Now, honey, you know it don’t work that way.” [2] cuddled her briefly.

“It oughta,” she sighed.

“Now don’t let the bosses hear you talking that way,” her teammate scolded. “They’ll start thinking you’re defective, or, worse…

continue reading Alone Together here.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1107768.html. You can comment here or there. comment count unavailable

#ThrowbackThursday: 2012

May12

May 12, 2012: My “Call of Nature/Origins & Creations” Giraffe Call.

And I wrote two throwbacks: the origins, or some of them, of Baram:

“Monster.” The witch twisted in Barypos’ arms and spat in his face. “Monster. Cretin. Beast.”

He lay his knife at her throat. “Soldier.” Her language wasn’t his, but they were close enough, and a warrior learned what he had to, fighting in these lands that weren’t home. “Father. Son.” He shrugged in apology. “I fight where I have to.”

“You killed my husband. My son. My baby.”…

continue reading “Cursed”

… and the Aunt Family’s houses…

“Here.” Carrie and Thomas glanced at each other, and then back at the land, and nodded.

“The road’s almost here, it won’t take us much to bring it this far. We’ll put the main house right on the road, and then we can build two more there and there,” Carrie pointed down the road a ways, “and a small place over there.”

“Woah, woah.” Thomas grinned at Carrie. “The small house is for your sister, then? Sarah? What are the others for?”

continue reading “Building the Homes”

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