So, it's been some time. I've left my poor followers hanging out there in blogdom. I can see you were all busy...I was, too. But it kept me away from the blog.
However, Blogfests always pull me back, whether I'm prepared for them or not. Today, very last-minute, I signed up for two more, bringing the total of April 'fests I'm taking part in up to four--Tara @ Secret Story's bar scene blogfest (Eep, I have no idea what to share, for that); Anne Riley's murder scene blogfest! (Is saying hurray acceptable? I do know what I want to post for this, I think); and Kelly @ Kelly's Compositions' First Page blogfest (ugh...I hate my first pages!); and at last, tomorrow's, the Alternate Version Blogfest, hosted by Livia Blackburne, in which she tells us to write a small scene in a different style. OK. As usual, I'm not prepared, but not about to be left behind...so below it the beginning of a short story I wrote which I realize needs some work, and the alternate form(s) it has taken. Really a lot of fun, though mine are sort of off the wall...I feel like I cheated, really.
Happy April Fools Day, everyone!
*The original version*
Skin. That was all he could see. A wide expanse of skin, smooth and creamy and untouched. He imagined himself reaching out, pressing his warmth to the cold. It was so white.
Emerson Talbot Fredericks, Esq. looked away and turned back to his work as she flitted around. She knew what she was doing, he was sure. She dressed just the right way, wearing clothes that curved where she did. He shook his head. “Annie, can you leave or stay quiet? I’m trying to concentrate.”
“Sorry,” she said, turning. The expanse of skin was covered as she straightened. He tried not to stare at her lip while she bit it. “I didn’t think I was making that much noise.”
The *Rulebook* version
To improve interoffice relationships, please be mindful of your coworkers.
*Men/women must wear non-distracting, office dress.
*Men/women should respect each other in regards to how they wish to be treated.
*Men/women must maintain appropriate noise levels in office.
*Men/women must not solicit each other.
And, for good measure, the *Zombie version* (FYI, I know little to nothing about Zombies. Feel free to point out errors!)
Skin. That was all he could see. A wide expanse of skin, smooth and creamy and untouched. He imagined himself reaching out, pressing his warmth to the cold. It was so white. And he was so hungry.
Emerson Talbot Fredericks, Esq., tried to look away. He fought against himself. He turned back to his work, trying to remember that he had liked her once, had known her once, before he became what he was now. They had walked the streets together, carrying their axes, ready to swing them into the others.
But now, she was under his possession, and he freshly changed, freshly bitten himself. Now, she looked like a meal, and her bare skin didn't help. He shook his head. “Annie, can you leave?”
“Sorry,” she said, turning. The expanse of skin was covered as she straightened. He tried not to stare at her lip while she bit it. Beauty and brains, and all he wanted was...braaains. She would make a lot of noise.