Second Campaign Challenge!

There were plenty of prompts for the Second Campaign Challenge. This is what I chose to focus on:

Prompt 1:
Two people are sitting together under the remains of a concrete bridge. ✔ Their backs are against a rusted bridge support. ✔ One person’s leg is cut. ✔ The other person has wet hair. ✔

Instructions:
Do one or more of the following:

1. Write a pitch/logline for a book based on the prompts. It has to be less than 100 words. (Mine was 28.) ✔
2. Write a short story/flash fiction piece of less than 200 words based on the prompts
   (I did 199.) ✔
3. Write a poem with a twist using the prompts as inspiration (in less than 200 words)
4. Write a story/poem in five sentences, each sentence based on one of the prompts
5. Write a poem/flash fiction piece (in less than 200 words) about the water pear *without* using the words “pear”, “spoon”, or “droplet”.

For added difficulty/challenge:

• Complete at least three of the above activities and tie them all together with a common theme (feel free to either state the theme in your post or leave us to guess what it might be)
• Write in a genre that is not your own ✔
• Ask Challenge entrants to critique your writing.   

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“Derrick,” I rasp, the word ripping barbs from my lungs as I pant the bitter nighttime air. “I-I can't do this...” My head falls back against what’s left of the thick, rusted support, and tears sting my eyes.

Image by tetratoon

The knit of his brow speaks volumes as he runs a hand through his hair, making the wet, darkened tufts stand on end. “I know it’s hard, but I need you to hold on.” He pauses, glances back at the water, and adds in a softer voice, “Just a little bit longer.”

“The others—” I begin, but cut off as another jolt of cold, nerve-shorting pain shoots up my leg. I squeeze my eyes shut and press against the rough, unmoving concrete with blood-soaked hands. Like time itself since the bridge collapsed, it doesn’t move.

“Don’t worry about them right now,” he says in a strained voice, brushing his thumb across my cheek. “I’m going to get help.”

A cold wind whips past, bringing with it the river’s trademark stench. I listen to the silence around us, imagining bodies and debris littering the water. “…T-They didn’t make it, did they?”

“No.” He lets out a deep, shuddering breath. “They didn’t.”

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Pitch: "When the bridge collapsed at midnight, there were two survivors—if they don’t make it out of the city by dawn, they’ll wish they’d died with the others."

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My goodness. What’s with my campaign entries lately? They're not the feel-good stories of the year, I'll tell ya that much. *grins*

Anyhoo, if you’d like to vote for and/or check out the other (probably happier) entries, click here. :) Oh, oh! And come back in a few hours for a post about Rachel Morgan’s GUARDIAN and an interview with Jessica Therrien. It’s going to be a fun Monday!

♥