Aug 20, 2014

TWS Weekly Writing Challenge 8.20.2014

Set your timer to 10 minutes and start writing. Your opening sentence should be 

"Well, that's one way to look at it," he said with a smirk... 

Remember you can write in any style or format. When you are finished cut and paste your 10 min piece in the comment thread below OR put a link to your own blog or area where you write online.


  1. {He said it with a smirk, but he meant it with a smile. He had no choice — his face was twisted into a mask, locked in a hideous rictus, control of his motor nerves taken from him by Zed the Messiah of the Shadow People. In a living hell, he watched as the unspeakable unfolded in front of his eyes, the screams of his victims shrieking in his ears…}

    “Oh my,” she said. “This story is getting pretty dire. These poor characters!”

    “That’s one way to look at it,” he said. “living hell, horror of horrors. But the experience could also be so entertaining, so relaxing, if you let go and enjoyed the ride. Just watched it go by, like a tv show, or a movie, or a landscape sliding by through the window of a train. Just watch and enjoy. After all, control or no, it’s all illusion.”

    “But the characters are doing unspeakable things — murder, torture, destruction, the deaths of their loved ones …”

    “Yes,” he said, “but so what? If there’s nothing you can do about it, it’s not your fault, is it? “
    “But they’re prisoners! “
    “We’re all prisoners. Our thoughts are imprisoned in our heads; our hearts beat futilely inside our chests. We’re trapped inside leather bags filled with blood and meat and bone. It’s dark in here. Pushing a ribcage makes it hard to breathe …”

    “My family. My children. I cut them to pieces!”

    “Did you? You had no control, even of what you looked at. You were absorbed in your absurd fantasies, filled with awe at your own mental manifestations. You were an automaton, a device, a dumb machine — so how were you at fault?

    “I’ll never forget it. I can still hear their screams. My characters killed. They destroyed. And it was their fault.”

    “You'll remember what you choose to. But blame … say a bulldozer destroys an ancient work of art, or kills someone — do we blame the bulldozer? Consign it to hell? Browbeat it until it cracks under the weight of its own pathetic self-loathing? We do not. We blame the driver; we attack him; we decry his motives. Unless we are children.”

  2. nicely done, the bulldozer part was great.

  3. “Well, that’s one way to look at it,” he said with a smirk…
    One way to look at it?! I have a boyfriend. That’s a reality, not a way of looking at something. Unbelievable. This guy really thinks he’s just going to charm his way into my panties with a quip and a lopsided smile. And yet… he is cute and that smile is… what am I thinking. Like I told him, I have a boyfriend. He’s still holding that dumb smile and staring at me with those pastel brown eyes. Staring intently. Don’t guys know that’s creepy? And yet it’s not. His stare is relaxed and confident, friendly and beckoning. His eyes take his time to look me over but that’s not quite it. Like I said, it’s not creepy. He’s not checking me out. He’s using his eyes to bridge the space between me and him. It’s very gentle, warm, and… sexy.