Media Writing - A New Blog

I have started a brand new blog especially for my Writing Media module, that's how dedicated I am! So, here is the link to my new blog. A blog within a blog, it's so very Inception!

http://hollysmediawriting.blogspot.com/2011/12/train-training.html

A Christmas Carol Intervention

This weeks intervention is  A Christmas Carol, just to get you in the mood. Oh, there is a little bit of a twist, of course...

You know, really it all started off as a bet. I bet the others that I could convince more people to change their ways than they could. Of course, I knew they would agree to it; what else is there to do in this depressing place? It’s actually a pretty fun bet, too. Lots of challenge, although, not much competition. Future wins pretty much most of the time, lucky bastard. I think the score goes 489 to Past, 543 to me, and a whopping 762 to Future. I suppose really I have probably lost the bet now. But it’s easy for Future! He just looms ominously over the person, shows them a few scenes of their agonising and lonely death and BAM! They’re suddenly a better person. Typical Future, really. Oh, don’t get confused. We call him Future, but some weirdoes call him ‘Yet to Come’. Yet to Come? Honestly? What is that about? It’s Past, Present, and Future, thank you very much.  Don’t mess it up again.

It’s funny because we’ve been doing this for so many years now and yet that Scrooge bloke is the only one that anyone ever remembers. And he ain't even the most famous person we’ve changed. You know there was that huge dictator a while ago, remember him? Well, after a visit from us he completely changed his ways. Okay, he killed himself, but that’s good enough for me! Besides, I won that one, so I figure that’s fair enough.

 

Oh yeah, and that’s another thing  because of that bloody Scrooge people now think we only come out at Christmas! Who cares if it’s Christmas? We ain't particularly bothered by Christmas, or any of those other ridiculous holidays! So if we come out at Easter next time don’t expect an egg or anything. Personally, my favourite time to work is at night time, during a thunderstorm. Nothing scares people more than a little bit of lightning action!

This time, though, we’ve found what I think is the biggest challenge yet. Well, Present found him, really. It’s gonna be tough to change this guy. If you thought that Scrooge was a hard ass bastard then this guy is gonna blow your mind.  We’ve been following him around for a while, now; working out what makes him tick and what is gonna be the best way to screw with his head. Let me tell you now, he’s an asshole, and a big one. Just like Scrooge was addicted to his money, this guy is totally addicted to sex. You know those Essex lads; well he’s ten times worse than that! Oh, and boy is this guy stacked. I’m safe, I can’t die but if I could I would not mess with this guy, no way! I think he might even be taller than Future, can you believe that?

I’ve seen his past, though. Bloody hell, is it mental. I’ll tell you what, I’m gonna have some good material to work with this time. Amazingly, he used to be a cute little boy; his Mamma sure did love him. Pity his Daddy didn't.  Pity his Daddy didn’t love his Mamma, either. I suppose you could say it was a bloody break up. But, no fear, this guy got his revenge on his Daddy, and he was not merciless.

I’ve seen when his love of sex started, and he was young so was the girl; I suppose it was a good thing his Mamma wasn’t around to see it. His Mamma was a sweetie. Maybe I’ll look her up. She’s probably gone now really, can’t imagine she’d hang round in our depressing dimension for long. Oh, I feel I might be getting off track a little bit. So yeah, today’s the day I’m gonna make my move on this sexed-up man beast. It’s the biggest storm this year and it’s gonna be right above his apartment. This guy’s gonna be sorry, he’s gonna change so fast. The others ain’t gonna stand a chance. Oh! I haven’t told you the best bit yet. You know what this guy’s nickname is, what all his little kiss ass friends call him? Tiny Tim. Ain’t that just the darndest thing?

Surrealhabilitation - A parody.

This was an assignment for my Short Story module. We had to write a parody of an author's work from our handbook. I chose to do a parody of Leonora Carrington a well known surreal artist and author.

Surrealhabilitation

EDIT - 31 March 2012: I am removing this post temporarily as it is entered in Short Fiction's Competition. It will be back in July. 

A Dracula Intervention

For this week's Textual Intervention we had to do a piece inspired by Dracula, and here it is!

The Diary of Lucy Van Helsing

1 Nov

She’s doing it again. It’s one of those days; mum’s gone crazy. Okay, I’m exaggerating a bit it’s not as bad as last time. At least she hasn’t got the stakes and crucifixes out again. Well, yet. This time she’s ranting about how those ‘disgusting Twilight books make sweet young girls want to become unholy monsters’; her words not mine. This all happened because she heard a group of girls talking in the supermarket about how they wish their boyfriends were vampires, apparently they’re better in bed. I only know what the Twilight saga is about because all my friends are obsessed with it. If my mum caught me even looking at the cover I know she’d flip out. To be honest, I can’t even stand vampires anyway, not after living with my mum. She’s still ranting, now it’s about how ‘we Van Helsings have fought against vampires for many generations and it’s things like Twilight that makes our jobs so much harder’. Again, her words not mine. Personally, I don’t give a crap about Twilight, vampires or about being a Van Helsing. If anything it’s just made my life worse. Not being allowed out after dark, having to take a stake to school, and worst of all having my mum throw holy water at any of my friends that I bring home. Obviously, I don’t invite friends over any more.

Oh, she’s calmed down now; well at least, she’s gone to her room to sharpen her stakes. That’s the nearest to calm she’s going to get.

3 Nov

There’s a new boy at school. He’s recently moved here from somewhere in Europe. People are saying he’s from somewhere in Romania. It explains why he’s so pale. Wait, is Romania a sunny place? I’ll Google it when I get home. There’s already a nasty rumour going around that’s he’s a Romanian orphan adopted by a rich English couple who can’t have their own kids. But I don’t really believe that as there’s no rich people that live around here. He does have an air of mystery about him though. His name is Dimitri.

11 Nov

I’ve gotten to know Dimitri quite well over the past week. He’s in all my classes, and we get talking quite a lot; he’s got such a sexy voice, I think it’s the accent it makes me weak at the knees!  He’s from a small town in Transylvania. He’s not adopted but he’s not living with his parents, they’re travelling, so he’s living with his aunt and uncle. He says his parents weren’t really the maternal type anyway, so he doesn’t miss them too much. Sometimes I wish my mum would go travelling. Dimitri says he likes living in England. He likes that it’s not too sunny; apparently he’s allergic to the sun. He says it gives him terrible rashes. Dimitri’s really good at sports, as well. He’s already on the cross country team. My friend says she saw him practicing the other day and that he was the fastest person she’s ever seen. I wish I could have seen him running, I bet he looks really good in shorts.

14 Nov

Dimitri walked me home this evening. He says that night time can be very dangerous; it wasn’t really night time though, it was just pretty dark after school. But like I was going to say no. Looking back, I probably should have said no, or at least made him stop at the end of the street. Letting him get that close to my home was a big mistake. My mum saw him, and we all know what my mum’s like with new people. But I’ve never seen her this bad before. In fact, she’s only just stopped questioning me. Here’s how the conversation went:

‘Who was that boy?’

‘No one.’

‘Who was he?’

‘Look, he’s just a new boy from my school. It was getting dark so he walked me home.’

‘What’s his name?’

‘Dimitri.’

‘That sounds foreign.’

‘Yeah, he’s from some place in Romania. He’s living with his aunt and uncle for a while.’

‘Romania?’

‘Yeah, so?’

‘Romania like Transylvania. Do you not know what that means?’

‘No.’

‘He’s a vampire!’

‘Oh, please mum. Not again.’

‘Have you seen his reflection?’

‘No, mum. I don’t tend to make him look at mirrors all the time.’

‘Do his teeth look any sharper than normal?’

‘Maybe, I don’t know. I don’t go staring at people’s teeth, mum.’

‘Well, have you seen him eat anything then?’

‘Yes, his aunt makes his lunch ‘specially. Apparently he’s a fussy eater.’

‘Probably because he only likes the blood of innocent young girls.’

‘Mum!’

‘Have you seen his neck, does he have any puncture wounds? Or do you suppose he was born into it?’

‘God, mum! I’m going to my room!’

I can’t stand her any more. She’s always trying to ruin my life with her stupid vampire slaying crap! We may have the last name of Van Helsing but she doesn’t have to take it so seriously! God, sometimes I wish she would just stake herself.

18 Nov

Dimitri’s been offering to walk me home all week, but I don’t think I could deal with my mum’s crazy so I’ve been saying no, I told him my mum is a bit fussy about boys. I know it’s a lie but it’s for his own good. I really like him though. He’s so sweet, there’s no way he could be a vampire; not that I ever thought he was, of course. He doesn’t even seem fussed by my last name. Surely if he was such a big bad vampire he would be scared of my name. Mum’s clearly mad. For the past couple of days she’s just been interrogating me about him more and more. She will not stop going on about it. She’s got all her weapons sharpened and ready as if vampires are going to be banging down our doors with Dimitri as their leader. I don’t even know why she has all this stuff; she’s never even used it. Though I have heard her sneaking out a few times after midnight; I think she’s going out to the graveyards to pretend she’s some fantastic slayer. Sometimes I wish Bram Stoker had thought of another name for his stupid vampire expert rather than Van Helsing.

20 Nov

Dimitri came to my house today. He said he waited for my mum to go out in the car before he came near the house. He was so polite, too. Said he’d have to be formally invited in otherwise he wouldn’t feel comfortable. It must be a Romanian thing. It was so nice seeing him outside of school, he’s so funny, and clever, and beautiful, and I can’t believe mum thinks he’s a vampire! He’s also a really good kisser, but don’t tell anyone! I’ve never experienced anything like it. He even gave me a hickey! I’m definitely going to wear a scarf now; mum will probably stake me in the heart if she sees it! Thank God it’s winter. But the best thing about the whole day was that just before he left he asked me to be his girlfriend! Can you believe it? I finally have a boyfriend! Finally! I don’t think even my mum could ruin this moment.

21 Nov

I couldn’t help it. As soon as mum saw me wearing a scarf she jumped to conclusions. She actually ripped it off me! She screamed at me, too. She told me how I was ‘completely irresponsible and stupid, and this just proves that Dimitri is an unholy demon. He had used his dark sexuality to seduce me and I was stupid enough to fall for it’, again, her words not mine. She inspected my neck thoroughly before deciding I was safe and that it wasn’t really a bite. But she still made me bathe it in holy water. She also gave me a crucifix necklace to wear to school and some weird garlic perfume she had made; like I was going to use that! I hate my mum so much sometimes.

24 Nov

Weirdly enough mum told me to ask Dimitri over for dinner tomorrow night. She’s been acting funny since Monday, to be honest. She said that she overreacted the other day and she shouldn’t be so obsessed with vampires if she wanted to be a good mother. She even went as far as to say they didn’t exist! I thought she might be drunk or at least high but she smelt fine. I wasn’t sure whether to believe her or not, I mean she is usually vampire crazy!  Besides, I wasn’t sure if Dimitri would even want to come over, anyway. Ever since the other day he’s been avoiding me. He hasn’t sat next to me in class or at lunch, he hasn’t even spoken to me! Is that normal for boys, to ask you out and then ignore you? All my friends say that it’s perfectly normal, you know, men are from Mars and all. I have my own idea though. I don’t like thinking this, but sometimes I think it is because of the crucifix I’m wearing. No, that’s just stupid. He’s probably just focusing on his studies or something. Yeah, that’s it. I will ask him to come to dinner and I bet everything will be fine.

25 Nov

Dinner is going great! I can’t believe I thought Dimitri wouldn’t come. He was actually really pleased to be invited. Said he wanted to make a good first impression on my mum. I didn’t tell him that she already thought he was some evil vampire only after my blood.  But mum really has cleaned up her act; she hasn’t even hinted about vampires tonight or done anything embarrassing, which are both firsts for her. And Dimitri has been so nice and polite. Mum cooked us steaks, if you can call it cooked; they were practically raw! But Dimitri ate it down anyway without saying a bad word. I wanted to say something but I thought Dimitri might think I was a spoilt brat so I ate as much of mine as I could. I’m supposed to be getting the desserts right now but I just had to write this all down. I’m just so happy! For once my mum isn’t acting completely psycho.

Later…

Oh God! Oh God! It’s all gone horribly wrong. I don’t know what to do! Oh God! I came back with the desserts to find mum with a stake pointing at Dimitri’s chest. She had a crazy look in her eyes that I had never seen before and it was terrifying. And oh God, Dimitri was unconscious on the floor, what had she done to him? I screamed at her to stop but she just turned to me calmly and said: ‘Oh good, Lucy you’re back. I’m going to prove to you now that vampires are real.’ I screamed at her again, I begged and pleaded, I tried to pull her hand away. Dimitri was still out of it. Oh god, it was horrible. And then…and then…mum turned back to me and she said:

‘I know Lucy, how about you do it? Yes, you can slay your first vampire. Come on Lucy. Come here.’ I didn’t want to do it, I tried to get away but she grabbed me. She placed the stake in my hand and directed it at his chest.

‘Come on, you can do it. Do it, Lucy. Do it now! Do it, Lucy! DO IT NOW!’

 She grabbed my wrist and together we drove the stake into his chest. There was no bursting into flames, no explosion of dust, nothing. My mum let me go and I fell to the floor. She groped his chest and pulled his shirt open. The stake was wedged into his chest, and, God, there was so much blood. It was everywhere. It was all over his clothes, the floor, on mum. But that didn’t stop her. She pulled the stake out and plunged it back in again. I screamed at her but she kept saying that ‘he is a vampire I knew he is, he is a vampire, he is, he is!’ over and over again. 

I know people say that mums can be overprotective but my mum had actually just staked my first ever boyfriend to death.  

A Wuthering Heights Intervention

Here is my story based on the story Wuthering Heights, it's not finished quite yet but I am pleased with the progress; even my lecturer was!

Jack was feeling lucky tonight. He was going to drive Anna up to the moors for a little alone time. From up there you could see all the stars and chicks really digged that sort of thing. Plus, it would mean that Anna’s parents wouldn’t be there to interrupt them like they usually did. This time Jack might actually get some action to brag about.

As they drove up the narrow country lanes Anna would not stop talking. Girly crap, gossip; something about who’s shagging who. Whatever, it was fine with Jack as long as she shut up when the time came down to it. Jack didn’t particularly like driving up to the moors at night; the roads gave him the creeps. The trees made weird shadows in the headlights and it always seemed like there was something lurking around every corner. Not that Jack would ever admit this. Plus, you never knew what was suddenly going to jump out in front of you. Rabbits were the most stupid, and Jack knew if he hit a rabbit Anna would never put out. 

Luckily, they made it up to the moors with no surprise bunny attacks. Unluckily, someone else was already parked in his usual spot. Clearly he wasn’t the only one planning to score tonight. 

‘Are you nearly there yet, Hun?’ 

‘Yeah sure, just gotta find the best stargazing spot for my baby. You wanna see shooting stars, right?’

Jack felt pretty pleased with himself when Anna squealed with delight; this was just going to be too easy. Annoying that they had to drive further onto the moors though, his car was definitely going to get roughed up. 

He drove for about five minutes and he heard many things scrape along the bottom of his car, he was pretty sure something had even been knocked off. He couldn’t take it anymore, he had to stop now. 

‘Okay, we’re here. The best place on the moors to see stars. Just for you, Baby.’ 

‘Let’s go sit on the bonnet; we’ll see them better from there!’ Jack didn’t want anyone denting the front of his car. 

‘How ‘bout we just stay in here, just for a while.’

Anna’s blush said it all. Finally, Jack got lucky.

*

Anna drew in the condensation on her window, and Jack knew that those silly marks would stay on his window forever. 

‘Hey, have you heard about the ghosts that haunt around here?’ He said to distract her.

‘Ghosts?’

‘Yeah, two of them. They lived on the moors, not far from here, actually. It’s said that they were once in love, but they couldn’t be together. Then one day the woman died and the man went crazy roaming the moors looking for her soul. It’s said that they’re still here to this very day. Roaming the moors, looking for other couples to tear apart and leave to wander the moors for all of eternity.’

‘That’s a bit Wuthering Heights, isn’t it?’

Jack didn’t really know what that was, but he didn’t want Anna to know that.

‘Whatever, it is true.’

‘Oh, yeah right.’

‘It is. Maybe you should move closer, you know, for protection.’

Anna rolled her eyes and continued to draw in the condensation. Jack glared at her; girls are clearly only good for one thing. Jack turned to his own window.

There was a flicker of white.

‘What was that?’

‘Oh come on, that’s not gonna work on me. That ghost story was crap anyway.’ Anna scoffed.

‘No, I’m serious; I saw something move out there.’

‘It was probably just your reflection.’

Jack ignored her and instead flicked on the headlights. The lights created shadows across the rough landscape of the moors. The shadows made Jack feel worse.

‘Look, Hun, there’s no such thing as ghosts. How about looking at the stars now? I can take your mind off it?’ Anna ran her hand up Jack’s thigh. Jack pushed her away.

‘Let me just take a look outside first.’

Anna huffed and turned back to her window. It was impossible to see through the condensation. He pulled up his sleeve and wiped it down over his window. Right outside was a woman’s face.

Jack screamed and struggled to get back.

‘Oh God, oh God! It’s the woman, the ghost of the woman!’

‘Seriously, it’s not going to work, Jack.’

Jack turned to face Anna. She seemed kinda pissed off. He looked behind her. Looked out the window.

‘Anna! It’s the man! Behind you!’

Anna turned, but it was too late. The glass window smashed and ghostly white arms reached in and pulled her struggling body out.

‘Jack! Jack! JACK!’

It all happened in seconds. Jack sat frozen in his seat. The moors wind which was howling through the now open window blew away Anna’s screams. Shaking he turned to face his own window. There was nothing there. Suddenly, the front window smashed and the ghostly woman leapt at his throat. The hands were like ice. She pulled and pulled at him but he wouldn’t budge. The woman gave a hideous scream and smacked him across the face. She fled into the darkness. Her outraged screams mixed with the wind.

Jack sagged in his seat. For once in his life he has listened to the law and worn his seatbelt; and it had saved his life. But,

‘Anna…’ 

My Gothic Monster

The writing task for Textual Intervention this week was to create a Gothic monster based on the uncanny.

Some features of the uncanny are:
Deja Vu
Doppelgänger
The Familiar becoming the unfamiliar
An animal that behaves human
Things that come to life
Coming across the same number or date
Wishing something happens and then it does
When you think of someone that you haven't thought of for years and then they turn up in your life again
Someone with the devil eye
The undead and zombies or limbs still moving

My piece is based on the idea of a doppelgänger. However, my version can only take the form of a person for 24 hours. To stay as that form forever they have to 'absorb' the person within those 24 hours. So, once you see yourself you will be followed until your doppelgänger can get close enough to you to be able to 'absorb' you. Once they are you they will cause untold chaos in your life, destroying anything they can and making misery.

Gothic Monster 

Staring out of the window I can’t wait for this class to be over already. The teacher is droning on non-stop. It’s only five minutes until the end of school; he might as well let us go early, no one is paying attention, anyway. I can see some of the other kids leaving across the playground, a mess of untucked shirts and undone ties. A guy in my class cracks a joke and the teacher, unimpressed, makes us all stay for another half an hour. A cruel and unfair punishment. The bell goes and school is over officially now. I watch the rest of the kids leave school and head home. They are so lucky. It’s nearly four, our punishment is nearly over. I had been paying attention for the last twenty minutes but a shiver was creeping up my spine and I felt eyes on me. I looked around the class. Everyone else was either watching the teacher, whispering to their friends, or staring off absently. No one was looking at me. Unconsciously, my head turned towards the window once more. The playground was now empty and still. Yet, a flicker in the shade of the trees caught my attention. Out of the shadows stepped a boy; his head was bowed and he walked slowly until he was stood in the centre of the playground. He seems familiar, especially his hair. But who is he? Without warning his head snaps up and he’s staring directly at me. His eyes catch mine like lightning and a shock goes through my entire body. It’s a hundred yards across the playground and I’m on the third floor yet I know the boy is looking right into my eyes. But his eyes are my eyes. We have the same eyes. The same nose. The same lips. Same hair. Same body. Same everything. He is me. 

That’s me!

Accidently, I screamed the last bit out loud. Now everyone is staring at me as if I’m crazy, the teacher included. When I look back to the window and the playground the boy, me? Is gone. I hope I am crazy. A chill settles on my body and I don’t even care that the teacher just gave me detention for a week. 

Walking home I wish I was back at school. There were people there; here I am alone. The streets are deserted and yet I can’t shake the feeling that someone is watching me. At every step I glance around. Still no one here. Another step and another glance. Still nothing. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe I had imagined it. Of course I had. My mind had been bored in class, maybe I had fallen asleep, daydreamed? Another glance, just in case. Still nothing. I’m just being stupid now.

I haven’t seen a car the whole way home but I still check both ways before crossing the street. Just as I am about to step onto the road I get the creepy feeling again. I look up. He’s there. I’m there. Across the road is me. Him. It. It looks identical to me and yet there is something about him. A dark decay that seeps from his body. He doesn’t blink, just stares. I take a step back just as he takes a step forward. His shadow seems to stretch away from him and after me. I stumble further back and as he steps forward WOOSH! A car hurtles by, not even slowing down. I see me hit the bonnet, crash against the windscreen, fly over the top and hit the ground with a sickening crack. But when I blink it’s as if nothing happened. The car speeds off. There is no body. 

Just me. On my own. But I know there is someone watching me.

Rising Taste

This website has expressed an interest in my blog, isn't that exciting? Have a little look, they do quite nice dresses.

http://risingtaste.com/index.php?dispatch=aff_banners.view&bid=15&sl=EN&aff_id=1247

Apparently, every time someone views my blog or clicks on this link I get coupons towards buying things off the website. Pretty nifty, huh? Either way, it's just a bit of fun!

Kafka VS Hemmingway

For my Short Story module we are looking at the writing styles of Franz Kafka and Ernest Hemmingway. For one task we had to write two short pieces with one writen in a Kafkaesque style and the other in a Hemmingwayesque style. We were given the staring sentences of:


By the way, Jurgen’s lips are never sealed because they always have a giant spliff in between them.

And:

His teenage years had been tranquillised into a one season pharmaceutical mist.  
Here are my two pieces.

Kafkaesque

By the way, Jurgen’s lips are never sealed because they always have a giant spliff in between them. Bulbous and juicy they suck continuously. Always seen through the parting gap are yellowing squares of bone. Awkward and jagged they circle his tongue; that thick pink muscle that laps at their sides. Spliffs endlessly enter and then leave again, leaving behind them that gastric smell. The smoke lingers for minutes, hours, days. Putrid and acidic. It seeps from the gap. Oozes. Streams. If he’d only close his mouth, seal it in. But then, that’s Jurgen for you; his lips will never be sealed, because he always has a giant spliff between them. 

Hemmingwayesque

His teenage years had been tranquillised into a one season pharmaceutical mist.  Joe first started doing drugs when he was 15. He was in a Home. He was sat in his room when another boy came in. His name was Jack. He closed the door behind him.

‘Hey, don’t tell the Keepers, but do you want some?’ Jack said.

He pulled out some weed. Joe did not answer straight away and Jack started to smoke. The smoke began to fill the room and Joe opened his window. This time when Jack offered him the weed Joe did not refuse.

Hours passed and they had run out of weed. Jack lay on Joe’s bed while Joe sat on the floor.

‘You know, it helps a lot.’

‘With what?’

‘The rejection.’

They sat in silence then.

‘Can you get more?’ Joe asked.

‘If you want it.’

‘I do.’

Sitting there Joe knew that drugs were not really the right answer but Jack was sure, so he was sure, too. 

My Gothic Character

As part of my Textual Intervention module we are discussing the Gothic genre. This weeks task was to create our own Gothic character. My character was Edmund from the story Delrium . We then had to write a passage on them. I wrote mine from his wife's, Caroline, point of view, and obviously this story is set before Delirium, as Edmund is still alive.

Gothic Character Piece

Full moon and Caroline knew it was that time again. The curtains were shut but she knew that it was there; mocking her, torturing him. Edmund slept besides her. He usually looked so peaceful when he was sleeping, but wait, now she could see his fingers twitching and his eye lids flickering. Soon he would be awake. Caroline gently slipped out of bed so as not to disturb him up any sooner. She sat in the armchair across from their bed; she would be safe here. A minute ticked by, then another and another. Maybe it would be alright tonight; maybe he would sleep all the way through. Maybe. Caroline felt her eyes drooping as she waited for his nightmares. Lower and lower. Heavier and heavier. She slumped against the armchair, asleep. 

‘No! Don’t! It wasn’t me!’

Caroline shot up in the chair, awake. Edmund was sat up in bed, eyes wide open and yet blind. Sweat darkened his nightshirt and his hair was slick against his forehead. His eyes snapped to the corner of the room, inches from where Caroline sat. His hands shook furiously in his lap and his lips mouthed wordlessly in fear. Caroline turned to the corner, but nothing was there. It was impossible. 

‘Leave me alone!’ Edmund suddenly broke out. ‘I didn’t kill you!’

Caroline squeezed her eyes shut and begged for this stop, when she heard a new voice.

‘Yes, Edmund. You did.’

I was Nachos.

In my Short Story module we had to do a piece of writing based on Franz Kafka's 'The Bridge'. It's an incredibly short short story about, you guessed it, a bridge. Here is how the first line goes:

I was stiff and cold, I was a bridge.

So, for our task we had to take two adjectives and a noun and makes our own version, it didn't have to be a complete short story like Kafka's and mine is not completely finished yet. Though, here was my first sentence:

I was hot and anxious, I was Nachos.

Weird, huh? The adjectives and nouns were just words that described the past 24 hours in our life. But, here's how the rest of it goes...

I was hot and anxious, I was Nachos. That’s right, I am Nachos; the big one, the hard one, the crunchy one. The Starter to end all Starters.  You don’t want to mess with me. And it’s not just me, either. I’ve got my mates, too. There’s Jalapeño, now he’ll rough you up. He’ll get you hot and bothered, for sure. You might think he’s not too bad, he’s not that bigger hot shot as everyone makes out, but you’d be wrong. Your eyes will be watering after a meeting with him.

But don’t forget Cheese. You’ll have to go through him before you can get anywhere near me; and believe me that can be tough. I know I can trust him; he’s been my mate since I can remember and he’s stuck by me through thick and thin. I know he's strong but some of the gang sometimes think he's not mature enough for job. They're wrong. 

Guacamole and Sour Cream, they’re the brains of the operation. Without them I would be stuck in some pretty awkward situations. They may not look like much, and at first I thought they were pretty ridiculous; pale and green almost sickly, no way would they survive our gang. But they’re a pretty tasty pair, those two.

 

My favourite by far is Salsa. She’s my girl and nobody else’s. I know I’m my best when I’m with her. She completes me. She suits me perfectly. She’s hot, boy, is she hot! Just being near her makes me sweat all over. She’s fiery as well. You never mess with Salsa; she’s got quite the temper. Many times we have fought and I don’t think I have ever won. Salsa is the only one I’m scared of.

Though, now things have changed. I don’t feel so cocky, so tough. As a group we have taken down all types of Starters before: Bread and Pate were so old fashioned they didn’t even know how to fight. Soup, ha! that was easy; and salad fell soon after and just as quickly. Garlic Bread just couldn’t handle Cheese. Caviar, well, let’s just say he’s sleeping with the fishes now.

But, word on the street is there’s a new Starter. This new group, in front of them I’m just crumbs. They call themselves the Platter. Breadstick, Onion Ring, Chicken Strip, BBQ Chicken Wing, Potato Skin, Ciabata Bread, Celery Stick, and from what I hear and range of Dips and Sauces. I mean, I know we’re good, but there is no way we could stand up against that! There are rumours that Platter can defeat a whole family in one sitting. That after a meeting with Platter they can never eat again!

What do you think? How should I finish it?