Up and Running

Now that there are a few stories out there, you'll notice a couple of things. First, I'm all over the board. I mean, a story about snowboarding, a story about monkeys and a Lovecraftian tale of horror? Where's the cohesion in that?

There isn't any. That's the point. Ninety Minutes, writing about what every strikes my fancy. I've done this sort of thing before, just not with fiction.

The second think you may notice is that they very in length. Well, that's the ninety minutes is more of a guideline, than a rule. The first two took about an hour, the third took about two. Depending on how much time I've spent free-writing the damned thing, the editing might be something less than desired (again, the third one).

So far I'm happy with the results. That doesn't mean I think that there all great little works of fiction, only that I'm happy with the fact that I've written them, start to finish.

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I also like to ask if anyone would like to submit stories send me an email, or a comment on this post, or I'll probably seek you out.

The rules are again as follows:

1. Do not talk about nine-minu...
   

Wait, let me try this again.

1. Must be (relatively) original - no fan fiction.
   
2. Must be written and edited in roughly 90 minutes.
   
3. Must be run by me, unless I've given you posting rights to this blog.
   

That's about it.

Bargain

The stench of the place was a wall. The room stank of death and decay, of sulfur and burnt flesh, of things base and unnatural. One went from the faint smoky smell of a hall into a foul, rank space in the moment the threshold was crossed. There wasn’t even a hint of its odor before entering the room.

Equally foul was the room itself. It was a mockery of a pleasant, late-eighteenth century apartment. Its grand windows covered by stained, decayed curtains, the splintered and dusty wood floors covered in tattered carpets of indeterminate age. Stains of blood, oil, feces or worse were splattered here and there, not in an afterthought, but left as reminders of past crimes.

This was the entrance, this foul foyer to the apartment, to a court, the Devil’s court, where favors were granted, bargains were struck. I was here out of a last resort.