Wow, I loved it! Especially how it started with a storm. XD I love the commentary of her cutting her hair - it was tense but at the same time had humour (is that possible?).

Thanks for posting clw8!

I really liked it, especially the beginning! And the last line about the haircut was so funny I laughed! I think the tension was there but was balanced, so it wasn't overwhelming which is good!

Cinderella - the scifi/ futuristic fantasy version
 

Hmmm - It's been a long, long time since I've read the fairy tales - but it's fun to rewrite them. I wish I had more time - I had a great idea for how the Prince would search for Cinderella in scene 3 - but oh well. I'm bad with time management.

------------------------------------------------------------

"Stop dragging me!" hissed Cinderella. "What are we doing in this musty old laboratory anyway?"

"Because I'm your fairy god-mother, silly." Marraine sat down and started typing on the old keyboard. "Now, do you or don't you want to attend the Virtual Ball?"

"What are you talking about? You know I can't afford to pay for admission." Cinderella wrapped her arms around her body. "It's cold here. Come on, let's go back to the dome. My stepmother will kill me if she finds out I'm not yet done tending to the hydroponics garden!"

"Oh, shush. You've been stuck forever in that garden - who ever heard of cinders being used as fertilizer anyway?" Marraine continued typing on the keyboard and finally gave a satisfied whoop. "I knew I could do it! I've hacked in the system - so guess who gets to attend the Virtual Ball afterall?"

Cinderella's eyes were round as saucers. "Marraine, you didn't! They'll find out you hacked in the system!"

But in Cinderella's heart, hope bloomed. The Virtual Ball had been the talk of all the single girls for the past few months - sure they were physically stuck in Jupiter's fourth moon - but for the cost of 500 galacticans, the magic of Virtual Reality would allow young people from Earth, Mars and even from the far away colony on Pluto to meet and mingle and dance and enjoy themselves for one night. And it had been whispered that for this Virtual Ball, the handsome young prince from the net show "Prince Charming" would be in attendance. Cinderella had a big crush on him and had secretly downloaded a hologram of the prince for a small fortune. Now, thanks to Marraine, she'd have a chance to meet him!

"Okay, lie down and put on the suit and goggles." Marraine ordered. "Hurry! Now remember, I can only guarantee that you'll be in the system until midnight. Remember, Cinderalla, you'll be logged out before midnight, okay?"

Cinderella gave her friend a quick hug. "Thank you, thank you, thank you -- I'll remember ...."

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The Virtual Ball was magnificent. It was a dream come true for Cinderella and she could hardly contain her excitement. She'd caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and had gasped. Marraine always did have great fashion sense and had clothed her friend with the very latest. Hundreds of beautiful young people mingled around the room and Cinderella was one among them.

"May I have this dance?" Cinderella whirled around and almost choked. Her Prince Charming was looking down at her and had his hand out. OMG!!! OMG!!! OMG!!! She swallowed and chanced a look around her - not a good move, she could see all the other girls glaring back at her.

"Please - may I have this dance?" he asked again and smiled. And so Cinderella stepped into his arms and promptly forgot about the rest of the universe.

There was an old film that Cinderella had once seen where the heroine had sang "I could have danced all night ..." And that was true. But they had also talked. And laughed. And joked. And for the first time in her life, Cinderella felt like a princess and not a lowly hydroponics garden worker.

And then, suddenly the clock struck midnight ...

Oh no! Cinderella leapt up and -- "I'm sorry, I have to go ..."

"What?"

"I have to go ..."

The interface had begun to turn into static and Cinderella could barely make out her Prince Charming's face as he whispered "At least give me your twitter name ..."

But she had already logged out.

^ Haha love it, I thought the logging in thing was very Matrix. I could tell you got into it and I would love to see scene 3 as futuristic fantasy too! :D

ETA: Also want to check up on what people think about a new challenge this Sunday or next Wednesday? Challenge 5 did go up on Sunday but people didn't really see it til Wednesday. Let me know guys, so I know whether I have to start brainstorming (or mindmapping :S)!

Thanks Gemmareno! Ha ha - just for the heck of it, here's scene 3 (I'm no longer following the original story faithfully) so you can have an idea of how the Prince does trace his Cinderella ...

p.s. I'd wait for someone else to submit a story for this week, but that's me - you're awfully good with your brainstorming and I don't want you to run out of ideas too soon.

------------------------------------------------------------------

Cinderella sat up and pulled the VR goggles off. She could hear Marraine typing away furiously on the keyboard and cursing softly.

"You had to cut it fine, didn't you? I said 'before midnight?'" Marraine scowled at her.

"Sorry, I forgot - the prince - what's happening?"

"Server security ..." Marraine bent back to the computer. "They're trying to trace my signal ... they found the backdoor I used ..."

"Oh, I'm so sorry ... " Cinderella ran to her friend and stood helplessly at her side. "Can you hide our IP address? We are in so much trouble!"

"Well, yeah - I hope that you at least got hot and heavy with your prince ..." Marraine grinned and winked at her. "Relax, I know how to cover my tracks."

Suddenly, the lights flickered - Marraine didn't notice as she had returned to concentrating on the computer screen - but Cinderella heard a 'click - click - click' - and her heart constricted when she discovered the sound was coming from the electronic lock on the door.

"Marraine -" Cinderella grabbed her friend's hand. "We have to get out now!"

"What? I'm almost done, I need to erase ..."

"Now!"

Cinderella dragged Marraine with her and half-running managed to escape from the room before the lock engaged.

Cool, I love the technological twist on the story, it's very imaginative. Thanks for posting it, hehe. And that's fine then - I'll post Challenge 6 on Wednesday.

Challenge 6
 

Guidelines.

- You must write in the first person and you must not use sight to describe the setting.
- You have 15 minutes for this challenge. Either time yourself with an alarm or phone, or use the useful link by FurryPanda on page 1.
- You must have a minumum of 500 words, although you shouldn't go over 1000.
- Copy and paste straight onto this thread. Do not edit or rewrite your piece. Spelling, grammar and punctuation can be revised but without a dictionary and such.

Ooh, this is right up my alley. I love imagery. I'll definitely participate in this one!

Yay, I have finally enticed you! XD Can't wait to read it, Rabid. :D

Phew. Okay, so I said I would enter another one, so here it is. It's a bit odd, but it's what my brain was thinking at the time. I go into a bit of a panic with these, I find.
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I could hear it. I could smell it. I could taste it. I could do everything but see it.
I could hear the gentle rustling of the trees as a cool autumn breeze graced the leaves. I could smell the dirt, fresh from the recent rainful. I could taste the earthy decay of old leaves in the air. I could do everything but see it.
The birds were chirping quietly, most of them still in hiding from the moisture on the leaves which showered them with fresh batches of cool water each time they emerged from their homes. There was new rain coming. I could hear the cracks of thunder in the distance, approaching at a rapid pace, and I could smell the fresh scent that rain promised us. The air was fresh, crisp with every breath I took as it blew down my throat. I could do everything but see it.
The forest was beautiful, with or without my eyes. The gentle swaying of the trees could be heard with accurate hearing, and the wind which lived between the branches was always a helpful reminder of how they sounded. The rain would amplify every scent around: the leaves, the dirt, the trees, the bark, and the occasional human which passed through this dark domain. The smell of everything around me was strong enough to taste, even if it was only the slightest taste on the tip of my tongue. It was enough. Enough for me at least. I didn't want to taste it. I didn't want to hear it. I didn't want to smell it. All I wanted to do was see it. I could do everything but see it.
I walked, my footsteps nearly silent as I walked sightlessly along the damp ground, all sound muffled by layers of leaves and dirt. It was almost impossible to be heard here. I felt a drop of rain on the tip of my nose, and I turned my face up to the sky to let the cool moisture land on my face. I opened my mouth to catch a drop, and in that one drop of water, I could taste everything in the forest. I could taste the wind, the trees, the grass, the moss, the dirt, the birds, the animals. I could taste everything.
I continued to walk through the forest, thinking carefully about the placement of the all too familiar environment. Trees would surround me everywhere, some young, some centuries old. I knew where each fallen log was, and these thoughts were embeded into my memory. I knew where the sparrows lived and where the moles hid from the tawny owls, all without vision. To my left I could hear a stream, not too far away, bubbling as fresh rain water streamed down a small waterfall, splashing dramatically on the rocks below. Just past the stream was a tiny, rickety house, long abandoned. To my right was more forest, and not far behind that was a clearing.
It wasn't much, but it was beautiful, with tall grass, softer than any other grass imaginable, and beautiful wildflowers. I kept my even pace, listening for sounds of approaching civilization, such as cars or people, but I knew that I was a fair way off. The dense forest continued for a long way. I wasn't afraid. This was my forest.
I could hear it. I could smell it. I could taste it. I could do everything but see it.

Pixcii: Beautiful. So beautiful. Probably one of the best short pieces of writing I have ever had the pleasure of reading!

tashi, I can't stop blushing. Thank you so much! You have no idea how much that means to me.

tashi what are you talking about? That piece of writing is so amazing! It's so beautiful, and the imagery is wonderful. You're a fantastic writer. Oh, and by the way, I have considered being an author, but I'm not good enough, and I don't think I could be good enough, to make a decent living out of it. I would like to write a novel though.

PixCii, well well well, I shall have to make you panic in every challenge! Your piece was so poignant and detailed, I really loved reading it. Your repetition on the end of paragraphs made it seem very thoughtful and sad. Also, don't think you can't write books because you don't think you're good enough right now! If I thought that I'd have given up years ago lol. Successful writers are good, yes, but they also have to be stubborn. Keep at it if it's something you want to try, and like all worthwhile skills, practice makes perfect.

tashi, welcome! It's great to have more posters and congrats on your piece. Again, very sad and atmospheric, it seems like a very tragic love story and I'm a sucker for those! I love how thorough your piece seemed, and the gentle pace was really lovely to read. Thanks for giving challenge 6 a bash - if you do try a couple more it would be great if you set aside the whole 15 minutes as I'd love to read more of your writing.

Here is my first entry, inspired by a story i'm writing about a blind girl (fitted well didn't it?) i just changed the gender. Hope you like!

I traced my finger over her eyelids and let my breath brush her forehead. I let my fingers tangle themselves in-between the curls and slowly bent down to faintly touch my lips with hers. The fresh smell of white nectarines and cinnamon graced my nose and her laugh echoed in my ears. Her fingertips felt smooth on my cheek as she traced the contours of my mouth. I could imagine her, with her mousey brown curly hair and blue eyes. I knew just how she was looking at me now, her little eyes in wrinkles as she tried to understand what I was seeing. The cool wind blew on my face and released a sense of freedom inside me. The grass tickled my ears as I folded my hands behind my head. The sun shone on me and turned the raven black of my world to a dusty grey. She smothered her body close to me and I wrapped my arm around her shoulder. The song of the birds mixed with her honey silk voice to a tune that made my heart hum. There was that old harmony in the air again, that feeling of being understood as it wafted through the trees. It didn’t matter that I couldn’t see her; it was enough to know her smell, her voice, her movements and her feelings. But it was her touch I longed for most, when I felt secure because I knew she was there by me. I hung on her words and dug my nose into her sweet hair. Her lips touched mine again, like butter on my rough skin, her breath blowing down my throat tickling my nerves with the sensation of sugar and candy. She pulled me up, the grass sliding from my back and falling down my spine. She tore me across what seemed like grass, ran me through the sunshine; sung to me that if I couldn’t see the spring then I should feel it, smell it; made me feel the flowers, enjoy the coolness of the fountain that bubbled over the stones. But it was everything about her that made my spring. Her curls were my waves, her smell my flowers, her touch my wind, her voice my birds but most of all, her laugh my sun. I only realised it was getting dark as my sight grew black again. A peaceful black that led us back through the forest, the leaves brushing my bare arms, to the little wood hut where I could wrap my arms around her, feel her body curled around mine and look at her with my eyes for a whole night. No-one could take those things away from me; they were locked tight in my mind just like she was locked in my arms, her chest peacefully rising. I could make out just where the mood was by turning my head to I saw the grey again. I closed my eyes too and let the rhythm of her breathing lull me to sleep.

Welcome Tusnelda, thanks for posting! You have a gorgeous way of describing, it's really peaceful to read. I love how you made the female character seem like nature. I think you should try lengthening some of your sentences though - in the first half they were all the same length and the rhythm was a bit too even - try using more commas or shorter sentences to make it flow. I hope I explained that right...

I hope you come back for more challenges too! Just be careful with using old ideas for these - it was great that you already had a blind character to relate to but the challenges shouldn't be already written, nor inspired by something you're working on now. Again, I hope that didn't come across as catty or anything! I'd love to see more of your writing. :D

Thanks Gemmareno! I realised that after reading, but i read the rules so that i couldn't change it. I haven't started the story yet, but this challenge made me start today Thats also the first peaceful bit of writing i wrote, im more for a bit drastic.

I'm glad this inspired you to write! If you post it in the Creativity Forum let us know. And really? It seemed that you were very comfortable with writing peaceful scenes like that one. I'll try a challenge in future that's action-packed and we shall see what you come up with!

Haha, that will be fun! At the moment i'm editing my old story, somewhere along 100 A4 pages. I'm more occupied with sad stories than happy

Whats the creativity forum?

This one. :D

100 A4 pages? Wowza, congrats! That must be a mega word-count! ^_^

I think I'm over a bit, but I just couldn't help myself. Adjectives are so my thing, and this really got flowing. I wrote it as an experiment using the plot I've contrived for my story (Not With a Bang, But a Whimper) about how superheroes die, so please suspend disbelief for anything about how the fire takes to him, because the protagonist can become fire. I hope that I didn't break the rules by allowing the narrator to know that he's touching pavement and whatnot, because there are a few things in here that having sight might help to illuminate, but I think a person could tell without it. I really like how this turned out, though. Great challenge !


He doesn’t remember exactly when it starts, but he knows that it starts with fire.

It’s an explosive gas leak that sets an uptown Manhattan skyscraper ablaze in plumes of pulsating flame. Wicked curls of throbbing, blistering hellfire lick at the structure with intense force and uninhibited determination, charring the walls and melting the glass windows to encase all those inside the building within a molten, smoldering prison.

He ducks beneath a crumbling, groaning rafter and into the building. Treacle-thick, filthy smoke hangs heavily within the atmosphere and arrests his breath as he pushes through the burning wreckage with sooty hands, immune to the persistent flames licking hungrily at his legs and back like a starved pack of wolverines, persistent and maniacal. He has only enough concentration for the panicked screams muffled by the roar of the inferno, no awareness for the tongues of fire that climb keenly up his body as he fights through the burning building.

A panicked scream resonates from down the crumbling hallway. His breath is briefly arrested, terrified and irreparably unnerved as he hears his partner press her face into her sleeve and cough roughly into it against the noxious, treacle-thick smoke circulating the hall. The building creaks dangerously around her as she shrieks his name, the raging inferno causing an expanse of blackened floorboards to collapse before her.

He coughs above the roar of the ravening flames, smoke tangled in his throat to create the foul, all-too familiar taste of pressure and urgency. Even a man immune to fire is not immune to its byproducts.

He thoughtlessly pushes through the incinerated rubble, set on a helpless one-track mindset to save her. His breath comes too fast due to sheer terror, inundating his lungs in thick, poisonous smoke and causing him to hack not unlike an asthmatic as he forges a crazed trail down the crumbling corridor. He brushes broken, smoldering furniture aside, feeling the roughness of the wood and the flame igniting his skin like a match cast upon a bundle of firewood. When he finally reaches the end of the hallway, small infernos burning like home across his body and wheezing breathlessly as he steps through a ring of fire surrounding her, she clutches his shoulder with bruising intensity.

“It’ll be okay, Sarah,” he pants heavily, taking advantage of the charred, weakened wall behind them to kick in the framework and drywall with the last of his waning energy. “Go,” he gasps when she hesitates, pressing a hand to his tight, burning chest and bending double in a futile attempt to dispel the smoke strangling him.

She clasps his shoulder, worry and tension radiating from her hand. “Don’t take too long,” she advises in a reedy voice starved of oxygen. “I’ll send someone back for you.”

He remains motionless only long enough for her footsteps to fade away down the pulsating, overheated stairwell. The gratitude of her safe return is so much that he thinks he’ll never ask for anything again, but the job isn’t finished, and he races once more down the hallway through the path of burning rubble he previously cleared.

A thick miasma of black smoke and ravenous, mushrooming flames pulls at him as he slowly and painstakingly fights his way back down the hall. He rounds a broken, fiery heap of what might once have been an end table to find a woman collapsed on her side, a lethal trail of hellfire licking its greedy, heated way across his feet and in her direction.

"No,” he breathes, skidding to skinned knees at her side and rapidly rolling her away from the pulsating, augmenting inferno. His clammy hands, blackened by soot and ash, scrabble for the nonexistent pulse in her neck, and he bends his ear to her mouth to listen with a sinking, leaden stomach for the bated breath he knows won’t come. “No, no, no,” he mutters brokenly, clasping his hands to press repeatedly at her motionless chest before clumsily pinching her fine-boned nose shut and delivering a desperate breath to soft, still lips.

He coughs dry and deep as he performs the compressions, scarcely able to inhale enough oxygen to fulfill himself, let alone support another person. His eyes burn with moisture, salty tears etch filthy furrows in the ashy grime caking his face, and whether the stinging sensation in his eyes stems from the noxious smoke or the nauseous, mounting knowledge of failure in his gut, he doesn’t want to know.

"Come on, come on,” he rasps huskily, delivering a particularly hard compression that creates a sharp crack as her sternum yields beneath his unleashed strength. He can hear the groaning of the smoldering rafters and smell the pungent, earthy aroma of the wooden infrastructure crumbling around them, but he knows nothing other than that he has to save this woman’s life. He’s counting furiously and doing the compressions, pausing only to cough up slimy soot and ash. He’s shaking and doesn’t know that he’s still crying. All he knows is that he can’t be responsible for this, that she has to come back. She has to.

He can’t just stop and let her die.

He loses track of how many minutes her heart doesn’t beat and how many ribs he shatters in the process of trying to bring her back to life, but soon strong hands grip his shoulders and pull him abruptly to his feet. It must be a firefighter. He can feel his chest tightening until it seems as though he’s sucking air through a thin coffee stirrer, but he still has enough energy to push at the stranger’s hold.

"Sorry, buddy,” the fireman yells above the growl of the inferno and the creaking moan of the collapsing building, pushing squarely on his shoulderblades to steer him through a molten archway. “We have to go.”

He finds himself limp and listless beneath the direction of the fireman, unable to do much more than steer himself in the pointed direction. He’s half-blind from lack of oxygen, immersed in a wholly auditory experience of creaking, crashing wood and the feel of intense heat upon his thick skin, legs weak and trembling beneath his suddenly immense weight. He pushes through his physical weakness, operating on solely adrenaline as he struggles to turn himself from the firefighter’s direction. He has a job to do, he remembers. He is his job.

“Have to save her,” he croaks harshly, scarcely able to project the desperate plea before it ends in a dry, hoarse cough that brings his fist to his mouth and bends him double.

"You did all you could,” the firefighter assures, clasping the muscle of his upper arms to direct him through the burning rubble once more. The heat and the roar are fading so drastically that he thinks they might be getting close, but his lungs are screaming for oxygen and his brain is so starved of air that it could be nothing more than his addled mind playing tricks on him. “She’s gone.”

They were closer than he previously thought, and the brisk night air hits him like a slap in the filthy, tear-streaked face. The fireman maintains a firm, reassuring grip upon his arms as he directs him down the building’s short staircase, but the moment the melted rubber of his sneakers comes in contact with the pavement, he collapses to the ground. The rough asphalt stings at the tender skin of his palms and grates at his skinned knees, but he has only enough concentration left for the monumental effort of expelling the smoke from his lungs. He feels not unlike a cat hacking up a hairball, chest burning as though filled with molten glass as his awareness fluctuates and he brings up foul-tasting soot. His back arches and his fingers curl convulsively as the piercing cacophony of sirens floods his consciousness, but he registers only the taste of rotten fruit in his mouth before his consciousness finally and blessedly fades.

That's some hefty font work there, Rabid!

I'll read it now, but I'm wondering what is it about challenge 6 that made it so busy? XD

ETA: I'm so impressed with your command with words, Rabid. You have a very broad vocabulary and it means that every sentence is a treat! Like I mentioned to Tusnelda a few posts ago, be careful about posting work that is already underway - the challenges should be spontaneous and unconnected to any writing you've done before. Also, I didn't quite get the feeling that your protagonist was blind - I think you should use more of his senses; smells, sounds and suchlike to show how aware he is of the surroundings. You said he found the woman - how did he know? The rattle of her breath, the smell of a familiar perfume?

Thank you for posting and I hope to see more of your challenges! :D

I don't know why the forum always does that when I copy-paste from Word... what font does everyone else type in so that they don't get that? I can't stand anything but Arial Narrow.

I would imagine Times New Roman or plain Arial. I've never heard of the font doing that. How bizarre.