This week, I'm taking it upon myself to challenge my greatest weakness as a writer: I'm lazy, unfocused, prone to procrastination and distraction, and generally unmotivated. Okay, so maybe that's more than one weakness, but you get the idea. To combat this, I've taken upon myself a humble but steady goal: 550 words, on average, every day, for a week. At the end of the week, I'll have a short story. If this reminds you of NaNoWriMo... well, it should. I got the idea from a contest called Book in a Week, which was inspired by NanoWriMo.
Here's where this thread comes in: In order to help reinforce the discipline needed for this, I'm holding myself accountable. I'm going to keep a record for this project. Each day, I post what I wrote, along with a total word count and the accumulative goal. For now, I'm not looking so much for criticism, constructive or otherwise, but encouragement and support. Perhaps some thoughts on where I can go with the story.
QuoteHector Riverman took the last drag of his joint, washed it down with a beer, and then decided to light up a cigarette. The reserve had just come out with a new brand of smokes, and a pack was cheaper then what he was getting. If he had any vice, he figured, then menthol was it.
Looking up, he admired the sun lit foliage of the trees. Beautiful day, it was. He was sure it would be a shame to waste it inside. Besides, he had the whole week to enjoy the cabin before Jared came back from his visit. He even brought his .22 with him, hoping to peg some critters. This was as good of a day as any for that.
Picking up the rifle he ventured off of the porch , to the edge of the woods. At the first sign of movement, he found a squirrel and took aim. A deep breath was needed to help keep himself steady enough to fire a shot, but the round bounced off of a tree. He cursed as his prey darted away. Returning to the porch, he sat down and finished his beer. No point in letting it get warm. His ashes went in the can he finished half an hour ago.
At this point, the day was starting to change to evening, and there would only be a few hours left of sun. He had already been feeling a bit of a buzz from the alcohol, and now the joint was starting to get to his head. A loud bang from the porch roof caught him by surprise. A silent paused followed, and then a scratching. Another squirrel. Hector relaxed. After a moment, the squirrel jumped from the roof. Another squirrel, another chance to take a shot.
Taking the rifle a second time, he peered through the sights. As he placed his finger on the trigger, two more sharp bangs were heard. The first, from the roof again, startled Hector into firing before he could take proper aim.
Again, a squirrel leapt from the roof, but this one turned around and scurried on to the porch. Hector looked for the animal he shot at, and was surprised to see that one headed for the porch as well. He couldn't help but think that something about these critters was a little odd. Normally they would run away from something like that. Instead, they just come even closer to danger. 'Damn...', he muttered to himself, before stepping inside.
After grabbing another beer, he collapsed on the couch and turned the television on and started searching for something decent. News. Next channel. Soap operas. Next. Game shows. Keep going. Reality television? They think this crap is reality? Moving on, he settled on a cheap horror flick that he didn't catch the name of. Something to do with zombies. This seems better than the rest of the channels, at least. Near as he could tell, he managed to catch the movie just as it was starting. The plots to these always struck him as almost laughably predictable. He managed to tune in just as the heroes realized there was some sort of outbreak. Unlike the heroes, Hector was proud to know that he was always prepared to defend himself against outside threats. He would love to see what the zombies would think of his rifle.
Word count: 564/550
Haha, nice!
This is great stuff! Gives me something to look forward to reading each day.
Keep going!
This is an awesome idea...good luck!
Thanks, each of you! I hope to be able to provide a bit of reading material for you guys for the rest of the week. I'm glad you guys like it so far.
I'll be expecting tomorrow's post :)
Quote from: NomadicI'll be expecting tomorrow's post :)
Slowly working on it right now!
The continuing adventure of Hector Riverman and the Squirrel Apocalypse.
QuoteHector was glad that enjoying the movie didn't demand his full attention. First, there was his current state of mind that prevented him from giving that to television. Second, he had the sudden urge to take a leak, and that urge wasn't quite ready to wait for the commercial break. When he entered the bathroom, he decided to open the window. It was, after all, a bit stuffy in the small room. As he finished up, he thought he heard a rustling in the branches. He looked out for a moment, but then decided it was just the wind.
Returning to the movie, he slumped back down on the couch. Ah, so at least the heroes finally managed to gather some weapons. Certainly they needed basic survival necessities, he thought, looking over to his own weapon.
After awhile, he heard another loud bang from the porch, and he wondered briefly how Jared ever got to sleep with all of the squirrels around here. Some scratching at the door, and Hector was starting to get a little frustrated with them. First he couldn't get a good shot, and now he can't enjoy a movie. At the next commercial, he decided to get up and bang his foot against the door. He hoped that would scare them off until the movie was over. At very least, it would stop them until the next commercial break. It didn't. If anything, it seemed to make them try even harder, and the scratching grew louder. He gave up trying to get rid of them, and went to the fridge.
As he opened the refrigerator door, he saw a shape dart across the counter. Even through his inebriation, he quickly realized what the shape was, and he cursed out loud. He knew that he would have to find some way to get the damned thing out of cabin, and soon. He wondered for a moment how it could have come in, in the first place. Then he remembered the bathroom. He left the window open. Damn. He blamed his lack of thought, and then grabbed a new can of beer before closing the fridge door.
He went back to the bathroom to close the window. He didn't care anymore how stuffy that room was. He didn't want any more squirrels to come in. They ceased being minor nuisances, and were starting to become a bit of a problem.
Unfortunately, however, two more were in the bathroom. The first was on the back of the toilet, and the other was in the window sill. The second one was in the way of closing the window. He couldn't help but be more than just a little unnerved at the way they both looked at him, then at each other, and then back at him again. It was if there was something to it. Almost as if there was some sort of intelligence behind it. He didn't like that thought at all. He almost thought of simply closing the bathroom door, but it didn't have any handle; merely a latch on the inside. In order to secure the door closed, he would have to shut himself in. He set his unopened beer down on the counter, next to the sink. The animals stayed put. He knew he was going to have to do something, but first he needed to figure out some sort of plan.
Word Count: 1130/1100
Awwww... cliffhanger!
I'm scared.
You should be. You should be.
Got off to a rather late start today, but I made up for it with a total of 590 words for the day.
QuoteFirst he tried loudly clapping his hands at them. Nothing. After that, he decided to try stomping against the tiled floor. Still, the creatures would not even budge. He turned around, deciding that he could at least give himself time to think about the situation if he closed the door behind him. He figured the squirrels weren't likely to be able to work their way through the five ply door. He took his beer from the counter, and opened it while he tried to think of a plan.
As he finished his first sip, he heard the branches rustling, and a third squirrel landed in on the window sill. The one that had already been there jumped down to the floor. Something bizarre was definitely happening, but Hector could not figure out what, exactly, it was. His thoughts, as well as the sound from the television, were suddenly interrupted by a loud zap, followed by silence. Near as Hector could tell, the television was damaged by the one squirrel that he didn't contain. Damn. It was an expensive set, and he knew Jared wasn't finished paying it off. He was going to have to pay for it.
Hector notice the toilet scrub brush, and tried reaching for it, but the squirrel jumped off of the back of the toilet and on to his arm. He yelled in pain as the claws sunk into his skin, and managed to shake the beast off. It hit the leg of the bathtub, and scurried under for shelter. Blood. He was bleeding. He glared at the squirrel that had attacked him, and then grabbed a towel. It was more than he needed to wrap his arm, but it was all that he had at the moment. Now he would have to replace the towel, too. Not to mention, his beer was now all over the floor. This had become a serious issue.
That was fine, he thought. Everything was okay. Sure, his arm was scratched up, the towel was stained with blood, beer was all over the bathroom floor, the television was dead, there were now four squirrels inside the cabin, and he might get an infection, but all of those were just problems. Problems just need solutions, he reminded himself. All he needed to do was come up with a solution. He took deep breaths to help him calm himself down.
At least he had the toilet brush now. He needed to figure out some way to use it against them. The one remained on the windowsill, claws scratching at the wood, while both of the other two were now under the tub. He could only guess at where the fourth was. It could be dead, for all he knew. He knelt down to the floor, and swung the brush under the tub. It seemed like it would work as a decent swatter. While he was on his hands and knees, something small hit his back hard, and dug into his shirt. He yelled in surprise, and attempted to slap his back with the brush. The other two ran from beneath the tub to the door. He stood up, shaking the squirrel from his back, and it started to dawn on him that he was trapped.
He took the stained towel from his arm to check his bleeding. Fortunately, most of the scratches didn't go deep, but a few of them were still bleeding. He dropped the towel to the floor, to soak up the beer, and searched the medicine cabinet for bandages.
Word count: 1720/1650
Squirrels: the new commoner killer.
Quote from: The_Weave05Squirrels: the new commoner killer.
As Magnus said, in chat: "He's getting owned!"
This is a brilliant idea. I should do this.
Enjoying the story!
Quote from: SteerpikeThis is a brilliant idea. I should do this.
Enjoying the story!
Thanks! I'm actually quite surprised at how positive the responses to this are. I consider this a community of talented writers, so it's always both bizarre and honoring when I hear how much my work is appreciated here.
This project really is both fun and challenging. The meager 550/day word count isn't that big of a deal, but continuing for the entire week is the biggest challenge.
Another late start today, but I'm jamming away now.
Day four. I'm officially over halfway through now! For those that have been waiting:
QuoteHe patched up the scratches that were still bleeding. Fortunately, his shirt didn't have any sleeves, so he didn't need to take that off. The scratches that went through his shirt into his back stung even more than the ones on his arm. His back was also sore from where he smacked himself with the brush.
He was thankful that the brush wasn't wet, at least. Thinking about this made him realize the possibility of having slapped the brush against the scratches. This worried him. He started to worry even more when he remembered that he had the whole week until Jared came back. He had to do something, and he had to do it fast.
He went to the window again, hoping to close it, but a squirrel had returned to perch on it. It was almost as if they were actively trying to stop him from keeping them out, he thought. That couldn't be right. Squirrels can't think like that. They can't plan like that. Isn't that what they were doing, though? Weren't they thinking and planning? It certainly seemed like that was what they were doing.
This was causing Hector quite a bit of stress. He just couldn't figure all of this out. He was trapped in a bathroom, and he needed another beer. If nothing else, to distract him from the pain in his back. Were these beasts watching him? Right, he thought, of all of the things to question about all of this, that's what you go for. Whether or not they're watching you. This can't be any good for your mental health, man.
He had to get out of the bathroom. He knelt down and struggled to use his boot to keep the squirrels at a distance while he slid the brush handle under the bottom of the bathroom door. There was just enough space for the handle to fit, but the wiry bristles got stuck. Perfect. Now he had a handle of some sort. He could close the door.
However, even though he had pushed them away with his boot, one of the squirrels returned to the door as soon as he unfastened the latch. After trying unsuccessfully to kick it away, he decided that letting this one loose was worth being able to escape the bathroom. He slowly worked the door open, and the squirrel dashed through. He continued, managing to crack the door open just wide enough for him to slip through. Still on the floor, he managed to grab the brush handle and close the door before either of the other two could get past him.
The squirrel that slipped through had already vanished from his view. He rested on the carpet for a moment, his hand still on the brush handle. All he could hear was the muffled scratching on the front door, and the quietness continued to make him uncomfortable. He knew he would have to get up in order to replace the beer that he spilled. That the squirrel made him spill. He wondered if that was the same squirrel that got through, and part of him hoped that it wasn't. He stood up, brushed off his knees, and returned to the kitchen. He was glad that he was only dealing with one squirrel, now. Two, at the most.
Word count: 2272/2200
I am likeing this very much so far, but maybe increase the pace of the story a bit? at this rate its going to take days before shit its the fan (our time) to cover the 10 minutes for poor Hector... just an idea. cant wait for tommorow... and maybe another character?
Quote from: Kaptn'LathI am likeing this very much so far, but maybe increase the pace of the story a bit? at this rate its going to take days before shit its the fan (our time) to cover the 10 minutes for poor Hector... just an idea. cant wait for tommorow... and maybe another character?
No new characters, but shit officially hit the fan.
QuoteHe paused for a moment when he put his hand on the handle of the fridge door. He glanced around the kitchen, and behind him, into the living room. He needed to know if those angry little beasts were in sight. They weren't. He didn't know what he should expect from them. He opened the refrigerator quickly, as if he was already removing his bandages; He didn't want the sound of it being opened to last any longer than it had to. Some part of him might have also been hoping to startle them into revealing where they were. Clearly, this was too much to expect from them. With any luck, this meant that they weren't near him.
His hands were trembling slightly as he took a new can of beer from the fridge. It had been awhile since his last cigarette. He opened the beer, and tilted his head back for a long swig. The situation was slowly starting to improve. All that he needed to do was find the two loose squirrels.
The living room was the best place to start looking. He might find the one that killed the television. He scanned the room briefly, and then checked behind the dead set. It wasn't there. Following the power cord, he found where it had been chewed through. There was a scorch mark against the otherwise off-white wall, but no squirrel. It must have gotten away. That meant that it was still loose. Damn.
It was quiet. The scratching at the front door had stopped. He wondered if they had just quit. That had to be it. They all just decided to stop. He wasn't comforted. He turned to the door, and cracked it slightly open. He didn't see any animals on the porch. He opened the door a little wider, to be sure, but still nothing. He closed the door, relieved, and went to the couch. All he had to do now was set a few traps for the loose squirrels, and wait for the other two to leave the bathroom.
He took another large swig from his beer, and wondered if those squirrels were even still in there. He finished the beer, set the can down on an end table, and got up to check the bathroom. When he got there, he was shocked to see that the brush had been moved, and the door was cracked open. It was just barely wide enough for the bastards to slip through. There was no doubt in his mind that they already did exactly that.
Despite his certainty, he opened the door to look inside. There were at least a dozen of the things in the bathroom. They were all staring at him. If he couldn't keep himself locked in there with three, there was no way he could do it with this many. As he slowly backed out, they all followed him. A couple more slipped by the one guarding the window. It was if they had formed an army. This clearly wasn't good.
Word count: 2779/2750
I was hoping to get in an extra ~50 words, so that I could have my 550 for the day, but I might as well post this now. if I get that extra content, I'll post it.
Today, I'm trying to make up for being short yesterday, but I'm almost there. Just another 58 words left, so I can be a tiny bit more leisurely for the day.
QuoteHe had now backed himself firmly against the wall. He expected the squirrels to all pour out from the bathroom to the rest of the cabin, but they didn't. They were now surrounding him. For the second time tonight, he was trapped by the beasts.
There was a moment of tight suspense that followed, before one of the creatures darted directly to his leg, clawing his sock for enough of a grip to get under the cuff of his pant leg. He shrieked out in a mixture of terror and pain as he felt the claws dig into the skin of his leg. Shaking his leg did nothing to get rid of the vermin. Instead, it continued to scratch him as it ran back and forth, up and down his leg.
Others moved in. One managed to latch on to his pants, and climbed all the way up to his waist, sinking it's teeth into him. He let loose a wild holler at this. Somehow he managed to bat it off from his body, but a small piece of his flesh was torn off as he did so.
As he noticed about three or four more of the little monsters scurry in through the window, he made a small leap over the crowd at his feet, and ran. He kept slapping at the frantically moving bulge at his right leg, trying to knock it out. If nothing else, he hoped to stop it from going too high. The pain was already more than he could handle. He could only imagine what might happen if it moved higher. He wished he couldn't imagine that. That was too much.
Once he was close enough, he dove onto the couch. The legs collapsed under the force. The squirrels had still followed him, and were aggressively attempting to reach any part of his body that they could.
Through his defensive flailing, he somehow managed to free a hand long enough to unfasten the fly of his jeans, and to reach down for the savage creature. He grabbed it, but there was no room to lift it away from his limb. He felt teeth sink into the web of his hand, and in the sudden, reactive jerk, he dragged the scratching clawing thing across his leg. Once he got it out, he instinctively tossed it.
Another dashed across his chest. As he tried to bat it, it worked under his arm, causing him to slap his own torso. It scurried higher, toward the soft flesh of his armpit. Others had managed to start climbing his legs.
He felt a cold nose press against his armpit, and then he felt the monster digging. The pain and shock caused him to jump up from the couch. He swung his legs as wildly as he could, trying to shake off the beasts that were on him. His pants started to fall, causing him to lose his balance. He tripped, and fell hard on the floor. His shoulder hit the end table, and was filled with a scorching white pain. A loud bestial scream filled the room, and he realized that it came from him.
He couldn't steady himself enough to stand back up. Not while still fending the creatures off. He tried crawling across the floor. Putting as much weight as he could on his good arm, he lifted himself slightly and dragged his body, pushing with his legs whenever he could stop from trying to kick the rodents away. He slowly started to move, but any attempt at escape was clearly in vain. He needed to find something that could help him.
Word Count: 3384/3300
FINAL ENTRY!
QuoteThe gun. There it was. He needed to get the gun. Some of the squirrels followed him out, but others stayed inside, waiting. Somehow, this didn't surprise him at all. His rifle was now close, and he picked it up with his good arm. With just one arm, it was heavier than usual, which made it harder to aim. He didn't care. He fired a shot, and was thrown off balance, falling into the chair. It took him a moment to gather his wits enough to see that he somehow missed the swarm entirely.
Finally looking at his shoulder, seeing it for the first time since he fell, he realized that it was misshapen. He must have knocked it out of the socket when he fell down on the end table. Now he understood why it hurt so damned bad. He stood back up, putting some weight on the rifle, and leaned on the wall. The squirrels had relented, but he couldn't imagine it as anything more than a temporary rest.
Pulling his shoulder back, he slammed it against the wall, hoping to push it back into place. The shock sent waves of agony radiating from his shoulder, spreading far enough to fill his vision, and then he felt something else hit his back hard.
When he opened his eyes, he was laying on the porch. The rifle was no longer in his hand. His blood was all over his shirt and body, and staining everything he had touched. When he noticed that his pants weren't on, he was confused. It took him a moment to realize that they must have come off before he stumbled out the door. Turning his head was too much effort. Even just keeping his eyes open was becoming a struggle. Were the squirrels still there? Jared would be gone for the entire week. It was a challenge to think. Closing his eyes, Hector finally rested.
Word count: 3960/3850
Want more.
Yup, owned.
Congrats man, btw. You did it!
Thanks, both of you. I'm glad I managed to finish this project, and I'm also proud that I managed to keep your attention for the entire week.
I want more :P
I smell a sequel (Squirels vs Jared? ta-da-da!)
Perhaps in the future. For now, I just want to take a bit of a rest from prose. That really sapped my endurance. I'm glad my efforts show through, though. It's great to know that I have an audience for my next work!
So... I was reading the newspaper this morning and saw this;
Link (http://www.cyberpresse.ca/actualites/insolite/201103/17/01-4380232-un-ecureuil-attaque-des-residants-du-vermont.php?utm_categorieinterne=trafficdrivers&utm_contenuinterne=cyberpresse_B2_insolite_266_accueil_POS1)
It's a newspaper written in french, so I'm not sure you'll understand, but the title says;
A squirrel attacks residents in Vermont!