As soon as I saw the photo, I knew I had to enter! It has also taken pride of place as my current desktop background!
Photo credit: Luis Beltran
Here are the instructions, taken from Angie's "Write Me Happy" website:
Write a piece of flash fiction, poem, or song (300 words or less) using the photo above as your inspiration. Post it on your blog anytime between now and when the linky closes. Every eligible entry will qualify for a chance to win one of the prizes listed below. The linky will close January 30th. Lillie, Angela, Daniel, and I will then read, debate, and decide on five winners for the following:
1st: Fifty page critique by Lillie McFerrin
2nd: Twenty-Five page critique by Angie Richmond
3rd: Fifteen page critique by Angela Goff
4th: Ten page critique by Daniel Swensen
5th: A copy of Steven King’s On Writing
Pop over to Angie's website to enter!
And here is my entry...
“They
say it’s better than weed,” said Jack, crumbling the Plympti plant into the dampened
cigarette papers; cemented with saliva, stuffed with tobacco.
“Best
of all, it’s free and there’s loads of it!” Simon laughed, looking down from
their tree-house at the sparse carpet of Plympti. It lingered like decaying
snow, wilted in appearance, despite its rich abundance.
Adam
was apprehensive. “The newspapers said three people died from it last week.”
“Of course they’d say that,” Jack rolled his
eyes, “they’re scaremongers for the government, raging that we’ve discovered free
drugs.” He stopped packing the joint to look at Adam. “Are you wimping out?”
“Ugh!
Why did your little brother have to come?” Simon moaned.
“Shut
up and roll it,” Adam snarled, defiant, “I want first draw.”
“Roller
goes first.” Jack smirked, sealing the papers together and lighting up.
As
the joint sparked to life, the tip seared and crackled, the paper crisping as
it perished. Soon, the tree-house was thick with acrid smoke. It was pungent,
like aniseed.
Their
eyeballs stung.
As
Jack convulsed, Simon grabbed the joint.
“Hey!”
Adam whined “I was next!”
Ignoring
him, Simon took a deep draw and held his breath, closing his eyes.
Jack’s
bloodcurdling scream pierced the air. It was the last sound he made.
His
eyeballs bulged, splitting his eyelids. Simon’s eyes burst open too, but there was no life behind them; he was already gone.
Adam
shrieked in terror. Trying to escape, he lost his footing at the tree-house entrance.
The fumes prickled his eyes, blurring his vision. Grabbing the light cord for
dear life, he swung, like a frenzied monkey through the trees.
As
the eyeballs popped from his head, he collapsed into the bed of waiting Plympti.
The beating of his
heart stopped long before the swaying light did.
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