Quickie Writing Challenge: Character Perception

Redlass · #1 03-11-2002, 01:49 PM

I've been collecting ideas for quickie writing challenges. Challenges that might take 10 minutes to a half hour for someone to write up. Things we could have fun with while practicing our craft (or art, if you prefer).

So here's the first one:

You're writing a story and the main female protagonist sets eyes on the gentleman in the picture for the first time. Write the passage describing what she sees and how she reacts:

Have fun!

satan · #2 03-11-2002, 06:11 PM

My eyes were glued to him from the moment he broke through the surface of the water and surged heavenward like a male version of that famous Michelangelo† painting. I began ticking off my mental checklist as each asset passed through my tunnel of vision one by one. Hair—dark, straight, not too long, not too tangly, good coverage and thickness: CHECK! Eyes—beautiful, not beady, bright, brilliant, sparkle of humor: CHECK! Mouth—luscious, good teeth, definitely kissable: CHECK! Face—cute, open, honest: CHECK! Shoulders—broad, dependable, cuddly, sinkable into for damsel in distress: CHECK! Legs—well-proportioned, medium hairy, hot: CHECK! Patoot—oh sweet Jesus, YES: CHECK!

He bounded around his pet for a while, well-defined muscles sinuously operating like pistons, throwing up a spray of water. Through this curtain of water drops glinting in the sunlight like the rarest gems our eyes locked, and suddenly beside those two dazzling diamonds, the combined efforts of the water and sun faded to a pale imitation. I felt pulled towards those pits of pure pulsating passion. I wanted to whisper sweet seductive somethings into those supremely lickable ears, to fall flat in front of his fiery furnace of furious love. And then he smiled and it was as if a thousand shining angels had descended from the sky singing hosannas and something arrowed through me leaving my insides all soft and squishy. My heart missed a couple of beats and then took off down the boardwalk on a 400m sprint. I realized that my tongue was hanging out and I was panting.

And then he and his pet were on the beach, and as he shook himself vigorously, his pet laughingly complained, “Easy, easy Rover!” and then they were off, without a second glance at me.

You can call me a bitch, but only men can reach that level of callousness.

† Edit: i meant Botticelli . . . Satan doesn't know her art very well . . .

Redlass · #3 03-11-2002, 07:10 PM

Well done!

I loved the enraptured detail and sudden change of tone in the last line. I think I could have seen that man even if the picture hadn't been right up above.

Dani257 · #4 03-11-2002, 10:09 PM

Well, shoot! Don't know how anyone could top that.

rich2003dm · #5 03-11-2002, 10:14 PM

I was walking on the beach one day and saw this guy wearing a shirt standing waist deep in the water.

Looked like he was doing a dog!

No shit!

Rich

How's that?

phoenixx · #6 03-11-2002, 10:31 PM

Sure, he thought he was a stud, but the way he tried that smoldering gaze on every passing Poodle in a bikini was giving me the creeps. A typical pretty boy, he wasn't satisfied with swooning Chihuahuas and yipping Greyhounds... he had to go for the usually unattainable, athletic Boxer as well.

He probably figured springing for the pricey Science Diet would guarantee a good time in the surf after dinner - a little extra "frisbee time", if you know what I mean. He didn't count on being Spot-ted by his trainer, or that the beach was the location for yet another Fabio "I Can't Believe It's Not Butter" shoot. When that Boxer b*itch saw Fabio, her snoot turned up at the low-rent pretty boy she was with. She left him treading water in favor of the man with a dog-like jawline and long, mangy locks.

Little did pansy boy know, I got it all on film. I'll post his shenanigans on every chat board in Netland - that will put the halter on his currently unleashed desires, not to mention netting me a pretty penny...

Leslie <- giggling at her late night Monday silliness and thinking she should come back later and write a real story...

Redlass · #7 03-12-2002, 10:13 AM

Rich: There's beauty in precision, is there not? I got a chuckle out of your passage.

Leslie: I love it! You take advantage of the way the boxer is looking off away from the guy. The puns are fun and the sneering makes it easy to hear what you write.

Ya'll are good (not that you needed me to say that, but I will anyway).

Redlass · #8 03-13-2002, 02:34 PM

OK. Time for me to make my contribution:

Cara blinked rapidly, forcing the sand off long eyelashes. “Surely,” she thought, “Mirages occur only in the desert to thirsty wanderers, not on deserted islands where waterlogged women lie stranded.” She rose up on her elbows and stared out at the unusually calm sea. A cloud passed over the sun, removing the glare that made the would-be illusion so unreal.

There in the water stood a dark-haired Adonis, his damp bangs tumbling with unconcern over his brow, his eyes shadowed by a strong forehead, and his expansive shoulders camouflaging any exertion his chest might otherwise display. The water rippled around him and the faithful beast who seemed to guide him to her shore.

Cara rose, mesmerized by his casual nonchalance. She waded into the water, attracted by his sereneness, her own serenity having sunk with her ship so many weeks ago. With a confident slap, the aquarian angel sent the dog swimming away and turned his inviting gaze to Cara. His muscular arm reached out to her and she took his hand, only momentarily distracted by the seeming dryness of the unbuttoned white shirt that clung to him. Cara begin to stutter an introduction filled with questions but his lips silenced her, closing over her mouth and dipping her deeply in a briny kiss. As she was bent backward toward the water, Cara noticed the large green fin sprouting from his hips, then was swept under the waves as the dip turned to a dive and the water spirit made off with her fatigued and starved body.

Dani257 · #9 03-13-2002, 03:46 PM

Okay, here's mine, for what it's worth.

“What are you, crazy?” Those aren’t the words you expect to hear first thing on a Sunday morning, on the edge of the beach. I had been absentmindedly wandering along the sand, and decided to flop down by the shore. I looked up, and a few feet ahead of me, like some kind of sea god, was the most stunning man I had ever seen. Not only did he fit the dark and handsome stereotype, but he had a dog. There’s nothing more appealing than a man who likes animals. Unfortunately, being called crazy kind of dampened the attraction.

“Look, I don’t know what you’re problem is, but I’m not doing anything, but cooling off my toes.” Sea god or not, I wasn’t going to let him talk to me like that.

“Cool them off somewhere else. The light is great, and I want to get Fleabag back to his owner soon.”

Me, crazy? Well, he certainly sounded like he had some personal experience with the subject. “Excuse me, but what the hell are you talking about?”

The man snorted. Now that I had a longer look, his eyes seemed really beady.“You don’t pay attention to much, do you? Look behind you, idiot.”

I turned around, and saw a lady with a camera approaching. I turned back, and saw him giving me an ‘I told you so’ look. It crossed my mind to argue that I had every right to be there, but figured that would mean I had to talk to him a lot longer than I wanted. So I moved away from his precious light.

Okay, so he wasn’t the sea god he appeared to be. More like an imp. I felt sorry for that poor dog. He probably had to spend hours with the guy. And, I bet he wouldn’t even get a pat on the head from him.

Redlass · #10 03-13-2002, 04:08 PM

Well done, Angela! What an attitude on the guy. I like how you used dialog and action verbs to communicate both a persona and a personality. It made for interesting reading.

#11 03-13-2002, 05:06 PM

She didn't believe in love at first sight. She knew that it was usually best to wait for the drugs to wear off before making any commitments or signing any contracts.

"I said walk the dog, Billy, not wash it!" she shouted at the Pool Boy.

She couldn't remember what magazine she'd clipped him from, but he certainly was a lousy Pool Boy. The pH of the pool could melt stainless steel, and he had a bad habit of trying to pole-vault over the fence with the skimmer. She made a note to double his medication and cut his pay in half, and she told herself she wouldn't get the two mixed up again.

The Pool Boy grinned, and before Spot could get his second nose-to-tail shake-off started they were already hip-deep in each other behind the cabana.

*snip*
*sigh*
*snip*
*sigh*

The gardener stopped snipping and sighed some more. It was part of his job description, so he made sure he sighed at least once per snip. He heard the grunts and groans of pleasure coming from behind the cabana, and he couldn't decide if he loathed the fact that he'd just cleaned the azaleas in that corner or that his turn to bang the boss didn't come up any time soon. He was somewhere between the satellite television repair man and the mailman this week. He'd tried to change places with the tennis pro, but the tennis pro had already made a deal with the chauffeur.

"Go talk to the cook," he said, walking back to his courts to smack his balls some more.

The next day, Spot was dead. He floated in the pool, making a slow languid circuit from the pressure of the circulation system.

She sighed and she figured the dog would make a decent pool toy for a day or two until he began to stink.

Redlass · #12 03-13-2002, 05:33 PM

Larry! I was hoping you'd chime in here. Everything you write is so fresh and original!

vonboob · #13 03-14-2002, 02:23 AM

She loved this part of her daily routine: a lazy walk down the beach after lunch. Oh well, it wasn’t so much about the beach, or the walk. She simply adored the male reaction when exposed to her perfect body. The dropped jaws, the non-blinking eyes, the sudden changes in sun-tanning positions were all a tribute to her bikini-clad curves.

This one was different. He looked at her without seeing… Was he gay? She slowed down and stretched a little. A darting glance in his direction: still playing with his dog. How about this playful hair toss: nothing. Must be gay. There was only one thing left to make sure. She made a sudden yelp and bent over examining her foot.

She immediately heard from behind: “May I help you?” It took some time to get the smile under control and off her face. Turning slowly she looked up at her prey of the day. He still didn’t see her. He was just finishing to fasten guide harness back on his dog.

Redlass · #14 03-14-2002, 10:03 AM

Oh, very nice twist, Robin! I could almost hear her pouting in the second paragraph and her triumph in the next--until she turns around that is!

#15 03-19-2002, 10:53 PM

[[[I think I will do a little more with this. Be on the lookout for further additions.]]]

On that very same spot a hundred years ago, Ned Spade stood. He faced down his opponent, squinting and trying to remember if High Noon was 12:00 of it was one of those Baker's Dozen kind of things.

At first, Ned thought that the wanted poster had been a mistake. The face was blotchy, smudgy, and hard to tell. He'd thought it was a bad print, but the moment he saw the bad man he had realized his mistake far too late.

"Draw!" shouted his opponent from his blurry and under-exposed face, and he fired once, missed, and was knocked out cold by a Ned's gun hitting him in the head.

Ned walked over to the Bad Man, picked up his gun, and headed straight for the dentist.

"Okay, I can see you now," said the dentist.

Ned shrugged. Trying to see the dentist was like... pulling... something, he thought.

Ned sat down in the chair, opened wide, and the dentist looked inside.

After a minute or so, the dentist sighed. "No, Ned, I need to look in your mouth," he said.

Ned sat back up, opened his mouth, and the dentist looked again.

"Hrargh harf margfh fff bahf," said Ned.

"What?" said the dentist, taking his hands out of Ned's mouth.

"You could have waffed your handf firft," said Ned. The dentist did so and checked again. "It fure fuckf to be lifping like thiff... I'm a Weftern Gunflinger, for crying out loud."

"Yes, think we can cure you of that lisp, Ned," said the dentist. "Darned shame, though. You're one hell of a gunflinger, even if this isn't The West."

"Okay, okay... Weftern Florida." Ned smiled with joy at the thought of speaking normally again, and the dentist screamed from the agony.

#16 03-20-2002, 04:10 PM

(BTW - I've changed the name of the dog to Spot)

On that very same spot, a hundred years later, Spot floated while a catering truck came up the driveway.

The Lady of the House welcomed the caterers in.

In more ways than one.

The gardener seethed with rage. One caterer was 10th in line and the other 16th. Both were jumping their spots by jumping her now.

He went back to snipping and sighing. What else could he do?

#17 03-21-2002, 11:05 PM

Not exactly on the very same spot, but extremely close to it, one hundred years after Spot's sad demise and two hundred years after Ned Spade's showdown with the Bad Man, there lay two books and a shoe.

The first book was a romance paperback, with a long-tressed damsel in the arms of a longer-tressed man with a flowing white shirt with a bare muscular chest. The title was "Lady of the House." The house was nowhere to be seen on the cover. Neither were her clothes.

The second was a tale of the Old West, where men fought each other with gunpowder-based projectile weapons and ride four-legged creates called horses. The book's title had worn away long before, and the only thing left showing of the original artwork was a hand, a gun, and a tin star.

The shoe belonged to the Late Robert-7 Smith-12a, and it had fallen loose when the Security Squad had grabbed him and taken him away for questioning. It really didn't matter what questions he gave regarding those two books, because little Bobby-7 was as good as dead. One simply didn't read un-approved material.

As for his parents, well, it helped being high up in the Ministry. The books were ruled to have come from somewhere else, because everyone knew a Vice Legate in the Ministry of Knowledge would never possess such contraband or be so foolish as to leave it lying about where a Junior could access it. Sure, Isaac-30 and Mindy-27 Smith-12a would be watched for a while, but they just barely escaped erasure by the slimmest of board votes. Instead, they watched as Bobby-7's corpse was loaded into the incinerator-recycler, his gene-code was marked Prohibited, and their offspring quota tossed back in the General Lottery.

Back to the ticket window again, thought Isaac-30. He picked up the shoe, put it in a basket with the rest of Bobby-7's belongings, and he checked his terminal for the latest bids on Bobby-7's posessions.

"Three... two... one... all done," said Isaac-10. He had to pry Bobby-7's security blanket from Mindy-27's grasp.

"It's not like it did him any good," said Isaac-30, but Mindy-27 only wailed louder. "Have you seen the dog? I thought we'd toss him in with the rest and get a cat this time. I've seen three out there already that look like they'd match the drapes."

wivabef · #18 03-21-2002, 11:49 PM

The quiet sip of the water through the rocks on the shore and the radiant warmth of the late morning sun had turned Daisy's lakeside meditation into an exquisite nap as she nestled in the cool grass. She had begun to dream of running in a field, the tall grass wisping against her bare legs, when a sudden caucaphony of voices and crashing splashes brought her to her feet.

Squinting against the glare of light reflecting from the water's surface, she quickly scanned the horizon to see from where the troubled sounds were coming. It looked as though a dog and his owner were struggling to their feet on the rocky shore. Her eyes widened as a passing cloud dampered the harsh sun and she gasped at what had now come into focus.

Heroicly determined, he rose from the water, his face showing the strain of his courage. His strong forehead, his powerful jaw and the patch of hair on his chest -- it all combined to form a heady vacuum that pulled at her very essence. As stunningly handsome as he was, it wasn't his glowing body that drew her to the water's edge. In this singular moment, these ten or twelve seconds of time, it was quite evident that he was compassionate and clever. He revered the spark of life so greatly, he would risk his own to keep any of its fire from being extinquished.

She went to his side to help him with his rescue. Shaking water from his hair, his charge grabbed at his collar and then gasped before speaking,

"Max! You saved my life! You're amazing!"

"Max," she thought to herself, "so that's your name. The name of the father of my puppies."

wivabef · #19 03-21-2002, 11:57 PM

I just wanted to add that I didn't read any of the contributions before writing mine, yet many of the images (including Leslie's idea of focusing on the dog) are similar.

Sigh. And I thought I was being SOOOOO original!!

**Prepoia**[$] · #20 03-22-2002, 12:54 AM

She took a deep breath, sucked in her stomach and looked toward the sensuous young man standing waist deep in the water. "God, he is SO hot!" she sighed as she walked away rejected and unnoticed. "Too bad I hate animals so much."

#21 03-22-2002, 04:10 PM

(only one more after this one)

One century before the Smith-12a's family troubles, a few feet to the left, the twin brothers who ran the catering business were at either end of the Lady of the House, catering to her wishes in ways not explicitly listed on the invoice they'd tossed aside for the moment.

With the rest of their clothes.

The gardener trimmed around the clothes. It wasn't his job to pick up clothes tossed aside by the Lady of the House's latest conquest. Let the valet pick up the clothes and see that these two ruffians were taking his spot.

The gardener knew that the valet had to take his pills and hour before his turn, and he'd even watched the butler bring the valet those pills with a conspiratorial atta-boy nudge.

The Pool Boy ignored it all, and he tried to skim Spot out of the pool.

#22 03-23-2002, 02:35 PM

Not just one century later, but two, there was nothing but ash, rubble, and a 300-kilometer-tall 23rd Century Real Estate sign. The agent, looking splendid in his golden-yellow polyester space suit, took the latest clients for a tour.

"I just don't know about this," said Proconsul Varss, twisting his tentacles and thrumming his blowhole.

"What's there not to like?" said the agent. "Great orbit, a perfect fixer-upper for your private use or a garrison or even something to hand down to the offspring." He looked over at the Proconsul's quartenary-bonded wives and gave each a grin. "Such lovely ladies they are, you'll be up to your sensory array in grandchildren before you know it. Better prepare now, I always say. Why, me and the Mrs.-"

"I'm still not sure," said the Proconsul. He looked up at the sky and saw a ragged, cratered cloud of debris passing far, far overhead. "That's the moon? It doesn't look anything like that in the brochure. What did the previous tenants do to that poor thing?"

"Atomics," said the agent. "But we've swept out all the Free Radicals and all it takes is a gravimetric ram-scoop and it'll be good as new. In fact, we can customize it and terraform it any way of a dozen styles, thanks to our recent acquisition of Happyworld Industries."

"Atomics?" said the Proconsul. "I thought that these were native-grown... hyoomins?"

"Yes, hyoomins," said the agent. "Sad, sad story. I must admit that they took this planet for more than just Sunday drives to the store and back." He reached down into the ash-layer and sifted through it with a claw. "But just think of the interesting archaeological value to this place... why would a native-grown species annihilate itself so brutally. Not many of those kinds of sites out there on the open research markets, and this one's a steal for as long as the Galactic Auditing Team doesn't find out about it."

"I'm well aware of the... ahem... delays that the Team is encountering right now," said Varss. "I just need to think this one over."

The agent twisted his claws for a moment and licked one of his thirty eyes. Yeah, he thought, the commission on this one's going to keep me farting through Regalian Blood-moss Boxers for years.