Yes, there are 2. Reason? The number of votes on our winning entry was substantially higher than everyone else's, which might (or might not be) correlated to the fact that this post was at the top of the list of posts, visible first.
So in order to create a fairer playing field, I decided to also offer a prize to the person with the second highest number of correct votes.
Here are our winners:
#40 THE FALL OF TROY, YA Fantasy
#39 SWIM, YA Contemporary
Congratulations to you both! To claim your free 5-page critique, please send the first 5 pages of your manuscript, double-spaced, to authoress.edits(at)gmail.com as an attached .doc file. Please put NAME THAT GENRE WINNER in the subject line.
To everyone: Thanks again for making this a HUGE success! We will definitely do this again.
I'd love to hear your thoughts and feedback on what you learned, what was helpful, what was interesting, etc. Please share below!
Miss Snark's First Victim
Showing posts with label Name That Genre. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Name That Genre. Show all posts
Monday, September 5, 2016
Thursday, September 1, 2016
Name That Genre: Guidelines
Welcome to our third-ever round of NAME THAT GENRE!
FOR THE CRITTERS
EXAMPLE:
SCIENCE FICTION
It's obvious in the 2nd sentence that her husband is a cyborg, since she's reattaching his left leg. Also she mentions she'll miss the transplanetary shuttle if she doesn't hurry.
Note: If you can't guess, say so!
I CAN'T TELL
There is nothing in your opening paragraphs that gives me a sense of genre. At first I thought it was historical, but then you mentioned a skateboard and something about a dragon, so...
FOR THE ENTRANTS
1. Yes, you may post guesses, too!
2. IMPORTANT: Please email me TODAY with your POST NUMBER, TITLE, AND GENRE IN THE SUBJECT LINE.
3. ALSO IMPORTANT: You must leave a comment ON YOUR OWN POST telling us what the genre is. DO NOT DO THIS UNTIL THE GUESSING PERIOD HAS ENDED. You will then have 24 hours to return to the blog and give us your answer.
IF YOU DON'T LET ME KNOW WHAT THE GENRE IS, YOUR ENTRY WILL BE DISQUALIFIED. I can't count winning guesses if I don't know what you've written!
FOR EVERYONE
The guessing window will close at 11:59 PM EDT ON FRIDAY. Any guesses received after that time will not be counted toward the total.
Entrants, you will have until NOON EDT ON SUNDAY to post your genre in the comments of your entry. I will post the winner next Monday.
FOR THE CRITTERS
- First, GUESS THE GENRE. Please be sure to write this FIRST in the comment box.
- Then, briefly mention why you feel the excerpt is this particular genre.
- There is no need to do a full critique on the entries!
- Did I mention that you need to WRITE YOUR GENRE GUESS FIRST? This will make it much easier for me to scroll down and count the votes.
EXAMPLE:
SCIENCE FICTION
It's obvious in the 2nd sentence that her husband is a cyborg, since she's reattaching his left leg. Also she mentions she'll miss the transplanetary shuttle if she doesn't hurry.
Note: If you can't guess, say so!
I CAN'T TELL
There is nothing in your opening paragraphs that gives me a sense of genre. At first I thought it was historical, but then you mentioned a skateboard and something about a dragon, so...
FOR THE ENTRANTS
1. Yes, you may post guesses, too!
2. IMPORTANT: Please email me TODAY with your POST NUMBER, TITLE, AND GENRE IN THE SUBJECT LINE.
3. ALSO IMPORTANT: You must leave a comment ON YOUR OWN POST telling us what the genre is. DO NOT DO THIS UNTIL THE GUESSING PERIOD HAS ENDED. You will then have 24 hours to return to the blog and give us your answer.
IF YOU DON'T LET ME KNOW WHAT THE GENRE IS, YOUR ENTRY WILL BE DISQUALIFIED. I can't count winning guesses if I don't know what you've written!
FOR EVERYONE
The guessing window will close at 11:59 PM EDT ON FRIDAY. Any guesses received after that time will not be counted toward the total.
Entrants, you will have until NOON EDT ON SUNDAY to post your genre in the comments of your entry. I will post the winner next Monday.
Have fun!
Name That Genre #40
TITLE: SECRET
GENRE: YA SECRET
The flowers were as insubstantial as we were. They were gray, too, as gray as the rest of the landscape, and they whispered among themselves, the petals fluttering without wind, as if sharing secrets. But there were no secrets in the Asphodel Meadows, just as there was no color.
Only, sometimes—there was.
Time had little meaning here, but I marked it by his arrival. I saw the distant glow of him, the light of the living as he moved through the throngs of the dead. Other shades clamored around him, drawn like I was to the way he shone, the gold of his hair and the sword by his side. It was better and worse when he came, for my mind was clearer at the sight of him but the sharpness of it cut me in a way the numbness could not.
GENRE: YA SECRET
The flowers were as insubstantial as we were. They were gray, too, as gray as the rest of the landscape, and they whispered among themselves, the petals fluttering without wind, as if sharing secrets. But there were no secrets in the Asphodel Meadows, just as there was no color.
Only, sometimes—there was.
Time had little meaning here, but I marked it by his arrival. I saw the distant glow of him, the light of the living as he moved through the throngs of the dead. Other shades clamored around him, drawn like I was to the way he shone, the gold of his hair and the sword by his side. It was better and worse when he came, for my mind was clearer at the sight of him but the sharpness of it cut me in a way the numbness could not.
Name That Genre #39
TITLE: SECRET
GENRE: YA SECRET
The fall of my senior year in high school, my mother brought a kitchen knife into the bathtub with her.
She didn’t cut deep enough, not nearly, they said. But she’d been drinking, and she lost enough blood to pass out. Her head slipped under the water, and if her neighbor hadn’t found her, she would have drowned.
I wasn’t with her. No one was. My parents divorced when I was in seventh grade, and I moved away with my dad.
We sat in the hospital waiting room, my dad and I, soaking in our guilt.
They said that after Mom was released from the psychiatric ward, it might be a good idea for her not to be alone. My aunt Laura moved in with her for a while. But Aunt Laura couldn’t stay through the summer, on account of the fact that my cousins would be home from college.
GENRE: YA SECRET
The fall of my senior year in high school, my mother brought a kitchen knife into the bathtub with her.
She didn’t cut deep enough, not nearly, they said. But she’d been drinking, and she lost enough blood to pass out. Her head slipped under the water, and if her neighbor hadn’t found her, she would have drowned.
I wasn’t with her. No one was. My parents divorced when I was in seventh grade, and I moved away with my dad.
We sat in the hospital waiting room, my dad and I, soaking in our guilt.
They said that after Mom was released from the psychiatric ward, it might be a good idea for her not to be alone. My aunt Laura moved in with her for a while. But Aunt Laura couldn’t stay through the summer, on account of the fact that my cousins would be home from college.
Name That Genre #38
TITLE: SECRET
GENRE: Adult SECRET
Welsan was out of souls to sell. This was a problem, for two reasons. One: It meant he had no money. Two: It meant he had to stay in this hell-hole a little longer.
The hell-hole in question was a resurrection hall, so well concealed that those who needed it most were hard pressed to find it. A dark barrow ribbed with subterranean vaults, it lay deep in the cleft of a sunken valley, far from disapproving eyes. Hoary trees hemmed it in, and choked its tunneling length with their roots. Unlike the reputable charnel houses governed by the Mortuary, the resurrection hall was a butchery. A purveyor of all things forbidden by Charnel Law, it was a desperate choice for those too poor to afford the last rites, and a coveted vendor for those willing to pay for dark desires in gold.
GENRE: Adult SECRET
Welsan was out of souls to sell. This was a problem, for two reasons. One: It meant he had no money. Two: It meant he had to stay in this hell-hole a little longer.
The hell-hole in question was a resurrection hall, so well concealed that those who needed it most were hard pressed to find it. A dark barrow ribbed with subterranean vaults, it lay deep in the cleft of a sunken valley, far from disapproving eyes. Hoary trees hemmed it in, and choked its tunneling length with their roots. Unlike the reputable charnel houses governed by the Mortuary, the resurrection hall was a butchery. A purveyor of all things forbidden by Charnel Law, it was a desperate choice for those too poor to afford the last rites, and a coveted vendor for those willing to pay for dark desires in gold.
Name That Genre #37
TITLE: Secret
GENRE: YA Secret
I’ve got my eye on a girl. I know what you’re thinking, but don’t even go there. It’s complicated. And oh yeah, in case you’re wondering—her name is Sophie.
Sophie lives on a tree-lined street of mini-mansions, and hers is the least mini of them all. I’m not saying it’s a castle but really all that’s missing is the dragon. From my hiding place at the Buddhist temple across the street, it looks like I could drive my mom’s Rav4 right through their front door. When it finally opens, I half expect to see knights riding out, armored up and ready for battle.
Sophie and her aunt and uncle step out onto the front porch. I lean forward in surprise. What the….? A dog’s standing with them. And not just any dog. It’s a Golden Retriever on steroids. Sophie’s holding a leash attached to a harness that encircles the beast’s massive body.
GENRE: YA Secret
I’ve got my eye on a girl. I know what you’re thinking, but don’t even go there. It’s complicated. And oh yeah, in case you’re wondering—her name is Sophie.
Sophie lives on a tree-lined street of mini-mansions, and hers is the least mini of them all. I’m not saying it’s a castle but really all that’s missing is the dragon. From my hiding place at the Buddhist temple across the street, it looks like I could drive my mom’s Rav4 right through their front door. When it finally opens, I half expect to see knights riding out, armored up and ready for battle.
Sophie and her aunt and uncle step out onto the front porch. I lean forward in surprise. What the….? A dog’s standing with them. And not just any dog. It’s a Golden Retriever on steroids. Sophie’s holding a leash attached to a harness that encircles the beast’s massive body.
Name That Genre #36
TITLE: Secret
GENRE: YA Secret
As I climb Mount Halex, I look out at my beautiful village and wish I could save it.
I’ve explored nearly every part as a gatherer. The seaside shrubs that produce fruit, glowing with brilliant, sacred light. The same light that illuminates the forest at night. I’ve felt the thick presence of the gods’ magic, the looming fear of this gods-forsaken mountain. But I’ve never climbed it, gripping ropes for my life. I’ve never searched for the sacred zyca fruits.
Until now.
And all I can do is try to breathe through the suffocating cold, cursing as my best friend climbs next to me, her curly blond hair contained under a thick fur hat. Larah yelps with every pull upward. “I hate this.” Her breath is ragged, her voice even airier than normal. She seems so delicate here. Her small frame, small arms, small hands. Not many know her true power. Her true ferocity.
GENRE: YA Secret
As I climb Mount Halex, I look out at my beautiful village and wish I could save it.
I’ve explored nearly every part as a gatherer. The seaside shrubs that produce fruit, glowing with brilliant, sacred light. The same light that illuminates the forest at night. I’ve felt the thick presence of the gods’ magic, the looming fear of this gods-forsaken mountain. But I’ve never climbed it, gripping ropes for my life. I’ve never searched for the sacred zyca fruits.
Until now.
And all I can do is try to breathe through the suffocating cold, cursing as my best friend climbs next to me, her curly blond hair contained under a thick fur hat. Larah yelps with every pull upward. “I hate this.” Her breath is ragged, her voice even airier than normal. She seems so delicate here. Her small frame, small arms, small hands. Not many know her true power. Her true ferocity.
Name That Genre #35
TITLE: secret
GENRE: YA secret
I can’t be sure there is something hiding out here in the backyard, lying silently in wait for my sister and me. But I’m also not sure there isn’t. This terrible feeling of uncertainty burns inside me, striking my bones like flint and sparking dread.
I unclip my pajama bottoms from the line and shake out any squatting spiders, but I freeze mid-shake. The atmosphere closes in around me. A storm. There’s no denying the hum that prickles over my skin, hisses through the trees, and brews the air to a snapping point.
The urge to run inside to the pantry and hide out with the pickle jars overwhelms me, but no, not this time. Enough. The laundry isn’t going to collect itself. Besides, I'm too old to indulge these fears, to run and hide from thunder and rain, imaginary creatures, and faded but potent memories from thirteen years ago.
GENRE: YA secret
I can’t be sure there is something hiding out here in the backyard, lying silently in wait for my sister and me. But I’m also not sure there isn’t. This terrible feeling of uncertainty burns inside me, striking my bones like flint and sparking dread.
I unclip my pajama bottoms from the line and shake out any squatting spiders, but I freeze mid-shake. The atmosphere closes in around me. A storm. There’s no denying the hum that prickles over my skin, hisses through the trees, and brews the air to a snapping point.
The urge to run inside to the pantry and hide out with the pickle jars overwhelms me, but no, not this time. Enough. The laundry isn’t going to collect itself. Besides, I'm too old to indulge these fears, to run and hide from thunder and rain, imaginary creatures, and faded but potent memories from thirteen years ago.
Name That Genre #34
TITLE: Secret
GENRE: MG Secret
"Emily is hitting me with that stupid shin bone, again." Oliver glared at his younger sister when she popped back up into her chair on the other side of the long dining table.
"Young lady!" Mother's stern disapproval swiveled from Emily to the skeleton drowning Mother’s flapjacks in syrup, and she pressed a fingertip beneath the pitcher to lift its edge. The Bones moved toward Emily's plate and Mother's stare followed, fixing on its original target. "Eat your breakfast."
Through the Bone's bare ribcage, Oliver saw Emily's head disappear once more below the table. With no one to stop the skeleton, syrup crawled over Emily’s eggs and sausages, encasing them in amber, like the resin-coated tarantulas in Father's study. Something cracked hard against Oliver's knee.
"Mother!"
Emily scrambled back into her seat. Her tongue poked through the hole in her front teeth and her nose scrunched up at the bridge, "It's just a tiblia."
GENRE: MG Secret
"Emily is hitting me with that stupid shin bone, again." Oliver glared at his younger sister when she popped back up into her chair on the other side of the long dining table.
"Young lady!" Mother's stern disapproval swiveled from Emily to the skeleton drowning Mother’s flapjacks in syrup, and she pressed a fingertip beneath the pitcher to lift its edge. The Bones moved toward Emily's plate and Mother's stare followed, fixing on its original target. "Eat your breakfast."
Through the Bone's bare ribcage, Oliver saw Emily's head disappear once more below the table. With no one to stop the skeleton, syrup crawled over Emily’s eggs and sausages, encasing them in amber, like the resin-coated tarantulas in Father's study. Something cracked hard against Oliver's knee.
"Mother!"
Emily scrambled back into her seat. Her tongue poked through the hole in her front teeth and her nose scrunched up at the bridge, "It's just a tiblia."
Name That Genre #33
TITLE: SECRET
GENRE: Adult SECRET
A well-mannered Southern lady doesn’t eavesdrop—especially at her sister’s wedding reception—but I had no choice once I heard my name.
“It’s certainly not the best silhouette for Teresa, but we wanted the maid of honor’s dress to match the rest of the wedding party,” my mother said, oblivious to my presence behind her. “Of course, they hang better on the bridesmaids since they’re all slim. There’s only so much you can do with Teresa’s figure. That bustline is about the only thing she has going for her.”
I looked down at my chest where the sweetheart neckline revealed a hint of cleavage.
“I’m just glad her sleeves didn’t pop in the middle of the ceremony. Can you imagine? You must’ve noticed how snug they are.” She laughed, shaking her head, and her friends with their nipped-in waists and stiff bouffant hairstyles laughed right along with her.
GENRE: Adult SECRET
A well-mannered Southern lady doesn’t eavesdrop—especially at her sister’s wedding reception—but I had no choice once I heard my name.
“It’s certainly not the best silhouette for Teresa, but we wanted the maid of honor’s dress to match the rest of the wedding party,” my mother said, oblivious to my presence behind her. “Of course, they hang better on the bridesmaids since they’re all slim. There’s only so much you can do with Teresa’s figure. That bustline is about the only thing she has going for her.”
I looked down at my chest where the sweetheart neckline revealed a hint of cleavage.
“I’m just glad her sleeves didn’t pop in the middle of the ceremony. Can you imagine? You must’ve noticed how snug they are.” She laughed, shaking her head, and her friends with their nipped-in waists and stiff bouffant hairstyles laughed right along with her.
Name That Genre #32
TITLE: Secret
GENRE: YA Secret
The last sounds died away as the doors thudded shut. I glanced down the unfamiliar school hallway, my pulse racing. Loser, the voices whispered. My head spun as I shuffled along the tiled floor, my legs wobbling with each step. I needed to do this. Quickly. I slipped a hand inside my jeans pocket and pushed open the girls’ bathroom door with the other. My heart stopped.
Two girls leaned over the sinks. “Shouldn’t you be in class?” asked one of the girls, touching up her mascara. Petite, with long white-blonde hair, and dressed in a tank top and micro-mini, she turned, looking me up and down. “You must be new here.” She screwed up her face. “Geesh, how tall are you, like, six feet?”
I froze, clutching the penknife in my pocket, and glanced away. Just leave me alone.
“C’mon, Jess, let’s go,” said the girl’s friend, smacking her freshly glossed lips together.
GENRE: YA Secret
The last sounds died away as the doors thudded shut. I glanced down the unfamiliar school hallway, my pulse racing. Loser, the voices whispered. My head spun as I shuffled along the tiled floor, my legs wobbling with each step. I needed to do this. Quickly. I slipped a hand inside my jeans pocket and pushed open the girls’ bathroom door with the other. My heart stopped.
Two girls leaned over the sinks. “Shouldn’t you be in class?” asked one of the girls, touching up her mascara. Petite, with long white-blonde hair, and dressed in a tank top and micro-mini, she turned, looking me up and down. “You must be new here.” She screwed up her face. “Geesh, how tall are you, like, six feet?”
I froze, clutching the penknife in my pocket, and glanced away. Just leave me alone.
“C’mon, Jess, let’s go,” said the girl’s friend, smacking her freshly glossed lips together.
Name That Genre #31
TITLE: Secret
GENRE: MG Secret
I saw Death during the half-time show.
While I blasted the same series of half notes on my trombone over and over, I got my first real view of the thing that's been haunting me since I turned six.
It was as tall as my dad, but too skinny to be human. Solid black fog in constant motion. A glossy black oval face with no features was tucked within a heavily hooded swirling cloak, but I swear, it stared straight at me.
Nobody else noticed.
The monster hovered on the stairs next to Ms. Schmidt and an older gentleman wearing a black bowler hat. Odd, I’d never seen her at a football game before. As far as I knew, Ms. Schmidt didn't have any children or grandchildren.
The band exited the field and Mr. Washington released us for our Third Quarter break. I dashed to where Death had been, but it had vanished.
GENRE: MG Secret
I saw Death during the half-time show.
While I blasted the same series of half notes on my trombone over and over, I got my first real view of the thing that's been haunting me since I turned six.
It was as tall as my dad, but too skinny to be human. Solid black fog in constant motion. A glossy black oval face with no features was tucked within a heavily hooded swirling cloak, but I swear, it stared straight at me.
Nobody else noticed.
The monster hovered on the stairs next to Ms. Schmidt and an older gentleman wearing a black bowler hat. Odd, I’d never seen her at a football game before. As far as I knew, Ms. Schmidt didn't have any children or grandchildren.
The band exited the field and Mr. Washington released us for our Third Quarter break. I dashed to where Death had been, but it had vanished.
Name That Genre #30
TITLE: Secret
GENRE: Adult Secret
Jerril Menkaure crouched outside the locked door her brother had strictly ordered her to stay away from. Her goyle stood in front of her, ears flattened against his head and a ring of cast-iron keys clutched to his chest. In his hard, dark eyes, the reflection of candle flames flickered.
"Come on, G. Hand them over." Jerril's electric blue nail polish gave off little sparks as she reached for the keys.
The goyle spread his leathery wings and hopped backwards, letting out a string of harsh, staccato chirps.
"No, it's not a bad idea."
G's wings unfurled a little further. Careful, Jerril thought. She didn't want to upset him so much he flew off to some distant corner of the castle. "Nothing terrible happened when you used the keys to break me out of my bedroom, did it?"
GENRE: Adult Secret
Jerril Menkaure crouched outside the locked door her brother had strictly ordered her to stay away from. Her goyle stood in front of her, ears flattened against his head and a ring of cast-iron keys clutched to his chest. In his hard, dark eyes, the reflection of candle flames flickered.
"Come on, G. Hand them over." Jerril's electric blue nail polish gave off little sparks as she reached for the keys.
The goyle spread his leathery wings and hopped backwards, letting out a string of harsh, staccato chirps.
"No, it's not a bad idea."
G's wings unfurled a little further. Careful, Jerril thought. She didn't want to upset him so much he flew off to some distant corner of the castle. "Nothing terrible happened when you used the keys to break me out of my bedroom, did it?"
Name That Genre #29
TITLE: SECRET
GENRE: Adult SECRET
Nora’s heart lifted at the sight of the Abbey Church of Fontevraud. The thick arches and black, scaly roof squatted like a mushroom on the bright lawn of the medieval abbey. Its plain, whitewashed beauty reached into her imagination and turned up the corners of her mouth. Five years ago on this day, her mother had visited this church — back when her mother still lived and breathed and kissed Nora’s forehead before leaving the house. Even if the church wasn’t already beautiful, Nora would have loved it just for that reason.
She closed her eyes against the afternoon sun. Releasing the clip that held her thick hair eased some of her tension, and she sighed as the tangled waves fell to her shoulders. The migraine had started when her class arrived in the Loire Valley and had intensified over the days leading to Fontevraud, or maybe the pressure finally got to her.
GENRE: Adult SECRET
Nora’s heart lifted at the sight of the Abbey Church of Fontevraud. The thick arches and black, scaly roof squatted like a mushroom on the bright lawn of the medieval abbey. Its plain, whitewashed beauty reached into her imagination and turned up the corners of her mouth. Five years ago on this day, her mother had visited this church — back when her mother still lived and breathed and kissed Nora’s forehead before leaving the house. Even if the church wasn’t already beautiful, Nora would have loved it just for that reason.
She closed her eyes against the afternoon sun. Releasing the clip that held her thick hair eased some of her tension, and she sighed as the tangled waves fell to her shoulders. The migraine had started when her class arrived in the Loire Valley and had intensified over the days leading to Fontevraud, or maybe the pressure finally got to her.
Name That Genre #28
TITLE: secret
GENRE: YA secret
I hear my name, Maya, softly spoken.
"Beck?" I can't see him. I can't see the portals lining the chamber's perimeter. I can't see a hint of the hatchway or the slightest fizzle of electricity. I hold my hands in front of my face. Nothing. It's coffin dark.
We ping our names like radar against the black. It's a relief to find him, an amazing, unexpected comfort. He wraps his arms around my waist, pulling my back to his chest. "Until we know what's going on," he breathes into my ear, "don't move."
A girl yells, "My cell doesn't work!" Others say, "Mine doesn't either." A guy bumps against my shoulder. "Evvie?" he asks.
"I'm Maya," I say. Beck's arms tighten around me.
Clicking noises pierce the dark. We freeze, whispering, "What should we do?" The clicking continues, the sound of it wheeling over us like gulls over water.
GENRE: YA secret
I hear my name, Maya, softly spoken.
"Beck?" I can't see him. I can't see the portals lining the chamber's perimeter. I can't see a hint of the hatchway or the slightest fizzle of electricity. I hold my hands in front of my face. Nothing. It's coffin dark.
We ping our names like radar against the black. It's a relief to find him, an amazing, unexpected comfort. He wraps his arms around my waist, pulling my back to his chest. "Until we know what's going on," he breathes into my ear, "don't move."
A girl yells, "My cell doesn't work!" Others say, "Mine doesn't either." A guy bumps against my shoulder. "Evvie?" he asks.
"I'm Maya," I say. Beck's arms tighten around me.
Clicking noises pierce the dark. We freeze, whispering, "What should we do?" The clicking continues, the sound of it wheeling over us like gulls over water.
Name That Genre #27
TITLE: SECRET
GENRE: YA SECRET
Sometimes I have to catch myself, as if I haven't been breathing for who knows how long. Now’s one of those moments. I draw in the deepest inhale, filling my lungs as if they’ve been deprived of oxygen all day. Of course they haven’t. Air happens to be one of those necessities to life. But the feeling is as real as life, too.
Exhale.
Rinse and repeat.
It’s within those moments, it’s easy to do the things I’m least proud of. Or most, depending on how you approach it; your approach dependent on how many years you’ve spent on the streets.
And I’ve lost count.
I look down. It’s in my hands, swaddled in muslin and still warm, like a newborn baby. I’m holding onto it like one, too. Precious. Delicate. The loaf, sweet and filled with poppy seeds, will keep me alive and full for the remainder of the day, but that’s just today.
GENRE: YA SECRET
Sometimes I have to catch myself, as if I haven't been breathing for who knows how long. Now’s one of those moments. I draw in the deepest inhale, filling my lungs as if they’ve been deprived of oxygen all day. Of course they haven’t. Air happens to be one of those necessities to life. But the feeling is as real as life, too.
Exhale.
Rinse and repeat.
It’s within those moments, it’s easy to do the things I’m least proud of. Or most, depending on how you approach it; your approach dependent on how many years you’ve spent on the streets.
And I’ve lost count.
I look down. It’s in my hands, swaddled in muslin and still warm, like a newborn baby. I’m holding onto it like one, too. Precious. Delicate. The loaf, sweet and filled with poppy seeds, will keep me alive and full for the remainder of the day, but that’s just today.
Name That Genre #26
TITLE: SECRET
GENRE: Adult SECRET
Lang leaned on the shovel and tried to slow her breath.
She should be packing for their celebratory trip for her one-year remission, not trying to divide a wayward clump of Lenten roses. Jack could easily dig up the stubborn plant when he got home. But he’d been doing her biding all year, and she was tired of asking.
The spot right above her left temple itched, and she snatched the brim of her white floppy hat and flung it to the ground. There was no one nearby to see her scalp, but she looked around furtively anyway, just in case. The bristle of new growth on her head had eased into something besides baldness—not quite hair, but not prickly, either. She rubbed her palm over her scalp, feeling the knobs and hollows she’d never known existed when she had hair.
GENRE: Adult SECRET
Lang leaned on the shovel and tried to slow her breath.
She should be packing for their celebratory trip for her one-year remission, not trying to divide a wayward clump of Lenten roses. Jack could easily dig up the stubborn plant when he got home. But he’d been doing her biding all year, and she was tired of asking.
The spot right above her left temple itched, and she snatched the brim of her white floppy hat and flung it to the ground. There was no one nearby to see her scalp, but she looked around furtively anyway, just in case. The bristle of new growth on her head had eased into something besides baldness—not quite hair, but not prickly, either. She rubbed her palm over her scalp, feeling the knobs and hollows she’d never known existed when she had hair.
Name That Genre #25
TITLE: SECRET
GENRE: YA SECRET
Typically when one is faced with a feral creature capable of snuffing out their very existence, they back up slowly and pray to whatever gods are left they're not noticed. It's arguably the smart thing to do.
Too bad I've never done the smart thing.
I cycle the bolt, chambering the bullet into my rifle. Inhale, aim, and shoot. The way Uncle Jeff showed me until it was etched into my muscle memory.
My finger hovers over the trigger as the creature shuffles into my sights, nose sniffing the air. Its skin is sagging off as if it can no longer maintain shape. The only vaguely fae-like thing about it are the pointed ears. Without them, the creature looks like a decaying corpse. A feral fae. It might as well be dead, it’s hardly living.
I squeeze the trigger before it can make out my scent, the bullet hitting a hair to the left from where I intended.
GENRE: YA SECRET
Typically when one is faced with a feral creature capable of snuffing out their very existence, they back up slowly and pray to whatever gods are left they're not noticed. It's arguably the smart thing to do.
Too bad I've never done the smart thing.
I cycle the bolt, chambering the bullet into my rifle. Inhale, aim, and shoot. The way Uncle Jeff showed me until it was etched into my muscle memory.
My finger hovers over the trigger as the creature shuffles into my sights, nose sniffing the air. Its skin is sagging off as if it can no longer maintain shape. The only vaguely fae-like thing about it are the pointed ears. Without them, the creature looks like a decaying corpse. A feral fae. It might as well be dead, it’s hardly living.
I squeeze the trigger before it can make out my scent, the bullet hitting a hair to the left from where I intended.
Name That Genre #24
TITLE: SECRET
GENRE: YA SECRET
I’m probably the only angel who regularly gets phone calls from Hell. I haven’t even put my pants on yet this fine Monday morning - not that I should expect that to make a difference. Rolling my eyes, I swipe my thumb across the screen, cutting off the Muse piano riff that’s been my ringtone since I don’t know when.
“‘Morning, bro,” I say with an exaggerated yawn.
“You cheeky bastard,” answers my brother. “How’s it hanging?”
My roommate, Luca, perks up briefly as he puts on his own Balthazar Academy uniform shirt. “Hey, Gabe,” he says, before turning back to the mirror inside our closet door.
“Luca says hi,” I say. “All right, what do you wanna sell me today?”
I can almost hear the stupid grin in Gabe’s voice as he answers. “I got another great setup for tonight. You get your ass down to the Bridge by five, and just...let the sparks fly.”
GENRE: YA SECRET
I’m probably the only angel who regularly gets phone calls from Hell. I haven’t even put my pants on yet this fine Monday morning - not that I should expect that to make a difference. Rolling my eyes, I swipe my thumb across the screen, cutting off the Muse piano riff that’s been my ringtone since I don’t know when.
“‘Morning, bro,” I say with an exaggerated yawn.
“You cheeky bastard,” answers my brother. “How’s it hanging?”
My roommate, Luca, perks up briefly as he puts on his own Balthazar Academy uniform shirt. “Hey, Gabe,” he says, before turning back to the mirror inside our closet door.
“Luca says hi,” I say. “All right, what do you wanna sell me today?”
I can almost hear the stupid grin in Gabe’s voice as he answers. “I got another great setup for tonight. You get your ass down to the Bridge by five, and just...let the sparks fly.”
Name That Genre #23
TITLE: SECRET
GENRE: MG SECRET
Jack Willows’s last day of 5th grade at Seaside Elementary was exactly as embarrassing as his first, and for exactly the same reason - his great aunt Bernadette. She arrived on a bright red Vespa, with the world's ugliest dog riding shotgun in the sidecar. Bernie weaved between the SUVs and minivans containing normal parents in the pick-up lane, and tooted the scooter’s horn like a lunatic. As if Jack, or anyone else, could’ve missed her. Bernadette’s red helmet shone in the sun, and her long, silver hair flew in the wind like a frizzy scarf. She pulled to the curb clearly labeled Buses Only, and pushed her visor up.
“Woo hoo, Jack!” she called and waved. "I brought The Fonz!"
The salt-and-pepper pug wore a tiny motorcycle jacket that matched Bernie's own. His buggy eyes were silvered with cataracts, and his tongue bounced wildly in his wide mouth. Fonzie looked like a fat, little gargoyle.
GENRE: MG SECRET
Jack Willows’s last day of 5th grade at Seaside Elementary was exactly as embarrassing as his first, and for exactly the same reason - his great aunt Bernadette. She arrived on a bright red Vespa, with the world's ugliest dog riding shotgun in the sidecar. Bernie weaved between the SUVs and minivans containing normal parents in the pick-up lane, and tooted the scooter’s horn like a lunatic. As if Jack, or anyone else, could’ve missed her. Bernadette’s red helmet shone in the sun, and her long, silver hair flew in the wind like a frizzy scarf. She pulled to the curb clearly labeled Buses Only, and pushed her visor up.
“Woo hoo, Jack!” she called and waved. "I brought The Fonz!"
The salt-and-pepper pug wore a tiny motorcycle jacket that matched Bernie's own. His buggy eyes were silvered with cataracts, and his tongue bounced wildly in his wide mouth. Fonzie looked like a fat, little gargoyle.
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