The League Of Ruin

The test for entry into the League of Ruin is simple yet fearsome. Initiates are given two vials and asked to choose. One contains a power-granting elixir, the other a deadly poison. Anyone who wishes to join the league must overcome the test through a combination of bravery, deduction, and perception.

The truth, known only to the members of the League of Ruin, is there really is no choice. Each petitioner either has two vials of elixir or two of poison. The decision has already been made long before the actual trial, based upon the initiate's popularity, deviousness, and attractiveness.

Complacency

When the alarm sounded, most of us were in the break room. We didn't need to check the bulletin board to know we were to exit through the rear stairwell. Even so, we took our time evacuating.

The post office had been receiving bomb threats for years. When I was first hired, I was constantly nervous, but over time I'd realized we weren't in any real danger. No more than everyone else, anyway.

Today was different. Today there really was a bomb. Perhaps if we'd hurried, the death toll wouldn't have been so high. Perhaps I'd still have my legs.

Single Sin Manifest

There had been a theory, more of a folk tale really, that hummingbirds were angels come down to Earth. They flitted about madly and we were attracted to their beauty and awed by their delicate nature.

The angels actually turned out to be the elephants and rhinoceroses, which makes sense when you think about it. They were heavy and profound and their words carry weight. Unfortunately, we hunted them to extinction and now we're down here on our own.

The hummingbirds are still among us. Each one is a single sin manifest and they are growing more numerous every day.

New York City Runaway

Crystal hid from the crowds of people by darting from shadow to shadow. Luckily, everyone was too busy to notice. The tall, hairy strangers in suits and uniforms were frightening, yet nothing scared her more than the thought of returning home.

She secretly flitted about the streets of the city, searching for a doorway to slip through. But not jut any doorway. Crystal had a long list of requirements that needed to be fulfilled before she picked a location. She hadn't run away in order to settle just anywhere.

After all, once a fairy enters someone's home, it never leaves.

Crisis Averted, Please Carry On

The service officers of the Shuminelectra Corporation were taught an abundance of protocols designed to prevent a crisis. They practiced the politest forms of speech, ran through dozens of foreseeable threats to public order, and were authorized to neutralize all potential disruptions. Shuminelectra Corp. provided the most efficient quality control platform in the entire new territories.

So it was that long after the planet had been abandoned, a group of officers were still operating at full efficiency. They truly were a marvel of engineering. Their decision to banish humanity had ensured that service would run smoothly for centuries to come.

Are You Up For The Twelve Month Writing Challenge?

It's that time of year again. The clock is ticking on 2013. If we haven't fulfilled our resolutions by now, it's almost certainly too late. But most of you are probably already contemplating your pledges for 2014. Hopefully that includes a fair bit of writing in your future.

If you don't have something specific in mind, then I invite you to join me on the Twelve Month Writing Challenge. Each month I will write one short story entirely within that month. By the end of the year, I'll have a collection 12 stories.*

Here are the rules:

1. Each story must be completed within a month
2. The title of each story must include the name of the month
3. Each story must be posted publicly by the end of the month
4. Each story must be accompanied by an original photograph that is thematically related and which was taken during that month
5. At the end of the year, the 12 stories must be collected into one volume and made available to readers for free
6. Minor editing can take place subsequently, but the writing for each story is finished when the month ends

Please note that there is no restriction in terms of content or story length. The story doesn't have to be related to the month. For example, March can refer to the month, the verb, or the hare. The idea is to create a construct that will help motivate you to write, and to write publicly, while still allowing for a great deal of freedom. By the end of the year, we should all have something to share with readers. That's the whole point.

I'll be posting my finished collection as a free download on Amazon and other online bookstores. If you don't have a place to post your work, submit it to me and I'll be happy to post yours stories on my blog.**

I'll be tweeting updates throughout the year using the hashtag #12monthchallenge and I encourage all of you to do the same. We can help motivate each other and provide feedback. If you're worried about the time commitment, don't be. Each story can be 100 words or even shorter. In fact, it's better to set small goals and exceed them than to intend to write a novella each month and give up half-way through January.

Happy New Year everyone and I look forward to reading your stories.

*No need to double check that math. That's cold, hard fact!

**As long as your work isn't pornographic, hate-filled, or gratuitously violent.

The Agony Of Farmland

Ellie drove while I fiddled with the radio. Neither of us spoke. It had been that way for an hour now. I wasn't angry like before and I was hoping she'd apologize so I could say it was okay. But then she'd sigh in that petulant way and my anger would resurface. There was no way I'd be the first to give in again.

The silence stretched on as the highway grew flatter and the forests were replaced by farmland. She'd better apologize before we reached my parents'. They'd probably side with her like they've done with all my exes.

Communal Sin

The fever spread through the village so quickly, everyone was sick before the first child died. The wise one said they'd been forsaken by the gods. No one listened. They were too busy dying.

In an earlier age, the epidemic, though tragic, would have passed quietly. The village would have been swallowed by the forest and forgotten. But these days, the village sat next to a gold mine, and many of the workers had come to the village for sex, then carried the fever back to the city. Soon the entire world was infected. Sin can no longer be contained.

Quickly, Now, Quickly

Shadows stretch through yellow light, grabbing at her moving outline on the sidewalk. Quickly now, quickly. In her pocket, she slips her middle finger through the ring of her keychain, the metal spines porcupine out from between the knuckles of her tightening fist. Quickly now, quickly. The time between the taps of her heels on the pavement shortens with her breath. Quickly now, quickly. Her ears swim in an ocean of rushing blood. Quickly now, quickly. Behind her, footsteps. Quickly now, quickly. She is almost there. Quickly, now, quickly. She stumbles, falls. Quickly, now, quickly. It is too late.

From Guest Contributor, Laura Fitch

Laura is a writer and a reader of a whole bunch of things. Her fiction and non-fiction has been published in print and online, but she's not about to tell you where. She likes fat cats and wine.

Colonial Malaise

We milled about the tunnel, waiting for instruction. Our day always began this way. No one seemed to have the initiative to do something on his own.

I'm not sure about the others, but my inaction wasn't for lack of impetus. I knew I should be outside gathering food and fighting off invaders. And every day was identical, so our tasks weren't that complicated. It was just that for whatever reason I never felt very motivated. Based on their apathy, my brethren were similarly predisposed.

This was probably the reason why our colony was consistently named the world's worst anthill.