My poem "Exile of Nuliajuk" has been published in the Heredity issue of NonBinary Review. You can get a digital copy of the whole magazine for five bucks!
I recently did a workshop on writing violence in horror and had fun with one of the writing exercises. We were to choose a classic monster (I chose a vampire), and then write the same attack from three separate perspectives. I'll share my results with you. We were given 7 minutes to write each bit, so if stuff looks like it could use an editing, it's because it was written very quickly.
Which do you think works best?
I recently did a workshop on writing violence in horror and had fun with one of the writing exercises. We were to choose a classic monster (I chose a vampire), and then write the same attack from three separate perspectives. I'll share my results with you. We were given 7 minutes to write each bit, so if stuff looks like it could use an editing, it's because it was written very quickly.
- I used a crowbar to pry the plywood off the basement window and cut my hand open in the process. I dropped the crowbar and took off my shirt, wrapping it around my dripping hand. It hurt, but I had to get in there before the thing noticed. I edged myself past the broken glass, and just as my feet should have touched the floor, they were yanked out from under me. My head smashed into concrete and I saw nothing but scintillating spots of nothingness. I awoke in mid scream. Needles plunged into my thigh over and over again and I tried to struggle, tried to tear myself free, but only tore my skin further on those needles. Teeth, I realized in horror. They weren’t needles, but teeth.
- Darcy took a prybar to the basement window, and with a few deft movements, the plywood came loose with the squeal of nails being pulled free. Darcy lifted the wood out of the way, gashing his hand open on a shard of glass. He swore under his breath and peeled off his shirt. He wrapped it around his hand before sliding in through the open window.
Something waited for him within. Something fast. It grabbed Darcy by the feet, smashing his head into the cement floor. It dragged Darcy further into the darkness before it began to feed. - Nails squeak and wood cracks, and then a shard of light slashes into my basement. I edge closer to the wall, away from the light, but close to whoever is breaking into my home. I can taste the fear rolling off him. Acrid sweat in his armpits, full notes of testosterone and adrenaline. I feel something awake in my belly. And then the sharp tang of blood as he slices his hand open on the window and my fangs drop.
He edges himself in through the window, and I seize this gift. I sweep him off his feet. Let the concrete kiss his head, and then I’m drinking from his femoral artery.
Which do you think works best?
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Date: 2024-06-05 01:51 pm (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2024-06-11 08:25 pm (UTC)From:no subject
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