A tragically monstrous character
made to suffer long escalating
mental and physical humiliation
beyond the point of complete
disintegration of personality – – embarks on the quest for
funding higher self through justice.
3 3624 minutes ago
The Writer's Hotel NYC "Mini MFA" Fiction Faculty Spotlight: TWH Founding Director Shanna McNair! 14 lucky writers get to study with Shanna in Major Workshop during our NYC conference. Apply by Friday, March 22 at www.writershotel.com. Each workshop is three hours long; there are four workshops. Each participant has their own fiction workshopped by Shanna and their fellow workshop writers. Each attendee will also have their full MS read pre-conference by two TWH Editors. We work with writers of fiction, poetry and nonfiction. Join us!
Shanna McNair is Founder and Director of The Writer’s Hotel and Founding Editor and Publisher of The New Guard literary review. She writes prose, poetry and scripts and is an award-winning journalist. She was a 2018 Hewnoaks Artist Colony Writer in Residence. She recently served as a RISCA Fiction Fellow Competition Judge, and as an Interdisciplinary Study Adviser at Lesley University. In 2011 she was a Writer in Residence at the Thomas Lynch cottage in Moveen, Ireland, following a residency in Dingle via the University of Southern Maine Stonecoast MFA program. She also holds a Creative Writing Certificate from Oxford University via her study at the Dartmouth College Creative Writing Master's program. She has worked extensively in the visual and performing arts. She is at work on a novel, stories, poems, scripts and a novella. #writersofinstagram#writerslife#writersconference#fictionwriter#publishinglife#literaryagent#nyc#nycwriters#writerscommunity#poetsofinstagram#literaryreview#writershotel
Nymor took hold of his sister’s arm, gently untangling her limbs from their dead brother. For a second she strained against his directions then it appeared lethargy took over and she was pliant. He knew what to do. No matter the state she was in, she had to go to the chapel. Right away. Or else all was for naught. Still he couldn’t help but consider letting it go. For her peace of mind. Chances were that she would have to relive whatever happened at least twice more. Aistroin tradition dictated she fulfill the journey and none of them would forgive him if he did not perform his duty now.
With his arms around her shoulders he led her to the chapel. The barren stone chapel with a stained glass window, making patterns when the sun shone or the moon was strong enough. One white pillow placed in the middle of the colors, large enough to kneel on or use as a pillow. He had woken up with it under his head. How would their father find her?
“Stay strong, Nymia,” he whispered and kissed her forehead, it sank when he moved away. “You carried him, you brought Garik home to us. Thank you.”
He shut the door behind him as quietly as he could.
Nymia’s shoulders began to shake, the motion traveling throughout her body and within minutes she was on the floor in sobbing convulsions.
Night had fallen by the time Nymia realized she was in Astrierhiel, in the chapel. Arrived at her destination. Trembling she placed her knees on the pillow and bowed her head to Belixian. Silence filled the chamber, it was a comforting feeling. It soothed her soul - from what she was not sure. Her aches and pains subsided slowly. She could feel it seeping out of her and into the ground. The distant sound of lightning, a crack that echoed within her. It made her look up, searching for the flash outside the window. She waited for the roar of thunder, to count how far it had to go. Another crackle, but no flash of color. Not from the outside. The hairs on her arms were standing and she could feel the hairs on her scalp do the same, a small tickle at the roots.
We are still accepting submissions for the 1st annual “Whodunnit Summit”—so if you write humorous crime/mysteries, horror, thrillers, etc send a message to be included! Who couldn’t use some free promo and a few new loyal readers??
The Writer's Hotel NYC "Mini MFA" Fiction Faculty Spotlight: Jeffrey Ford! 14 lucky writers get to study with Jeffrey in Major Workshop during our NYC conference. What an opportunity! Apply by Friday, March 22! Apply at www.writershotel.com. Each workshop is three hours long; there are four workshops. Each participant has their own fiction workshopped byJeffrey and their fellow workshop writers. Each attendee will also have their full MS read pre-conference by two TWH Editors. We also work with writers of poetry and nonfiction. Join us!
Jeffrey Ford is the author of the novels The Physiognomy, Memoranda, The Beyond, The Portrait of Mrs. Charbuque, The Girl in the Glass, The Cosmology of the Wider World, The Shadow Year, and The Twilight Pariah. A new novel, Ahab’s Return will appear in summer of 2018 from Morrow/Harper Collins. His short story collections are The Fantasy Writer’s Assistant, The Empire of Ice Cream, The Drowned Life, Crackpot Palace, and A Natural History of Hell. He’s the recipient of the World Fantasy Award, Nebula, Edgar Allan Poe Award, the Shirley Jackson Award, and Gran Prix de l’Imaginaire. His work has been translated into almost twenty languages. He lives in Ohio in a 115 year old farmhouse surrounded by cornfields and teaches writing part-time at Ohio Wesleyan University. #writersofinstagram#amwritingfantasy#amwritingscifi#amwritingfiction#amwriting#amwritingcrime#fictionwriter#speculativefiction#crimewriter#sciencefiction#writerscommunity#writersconference#nycwriters#speculativefiction#writershotel
1 53 hours ago
Nostalgia and longing. Every once in awhile a memory will catch me off guard when my mind is idle, and I’ll smile at that fleeting thought, see and feel it so clearly within me. ⠀
I lived in Panama for a few years when I was a kid. (My family on both sides is Panamanian). There was a large, grassy hill at the top of our street and my brothers and I, along with a bunch of neighborhood kids, would slide down said hill on torn pieces of cardboard, laughing and screaming our heads off. ⠀
We were sticky and wet with sweat, rain, and humidity, and at the bottom of that hill we’d crash into the curb and tumble in the grass. Our clothes were stained with dirt and grass, legs and arms bruised and scraped, and we’d run back up to the top panting and hungry to do it again. ⠀
I was a serious child, but I didn’t think and analyze as much as I do now. I didn’t get in my own way as much as I do now. It’s that feeling of freedom, remembering that it was once mine and longing for it that pushes me to create. Because I’m free in my creative place where I can do anything, create characters to be anything, and lose myself in a world where I can simply let go, run back to the top panting, hungry to do it all over again. ⠀
What are some memories that move you to create?
To get a better glimpse of what caused the wounds without approaching, I pulled out my spy glass from my white leather pack. With magnified vision I saw that the beast was riddled with arrows and was slowly dying. The arrows though, cause me greater alarm. Those weren’t arrows from Maanal. They were of a higher quality, most likely military grade. And no one in the town of Mannal would try to take down such a beast. There was too much risk for such a small community. That could only mean one thing. A patrol of Xegilar soldiers. The very thought made me spit. As I rose to leave, I spotted them through a break in the tree line. They were following the trail of blood. Bloody hell, I’d have to stay put, moving now would cause too much of a scene. Maybe I could learn something of value from this group though. I became one with the ridge line and waited as the group of 6 approached. “Look at this gnarly beast! We are gonna be eating good tonight!” Called the leader of the pack. As they all made a half circle around the fallen bear I got a good look of them. Decked out in their military armor they made for quite the show. “You could have saved the arrows Gerrad, heavens know we need them.” Called a shorter dark haired man. What did he mean by “needing arrows”? “Come lets get this back to the camp, this won’t even feed a quarter of our regimen, but we will need everything we can for the journey across the border, we need to keep our strength up for what to come.” The voices echoed off the walls of the ridge below, and bounced off the walls of my mind as well. If I was hearing correctly, Xegilar was planning on invading Gidrivar! This changed everything. My trip was going to be cut short. This information was too precious to sit on. The nation would be under attack and potentially ill prepared. It was my time to be the hero. Something I haven’t been able to do in other places. I had to leave, and fast. As I inched my way back from the edge of the ridge, I felt a shift in the ground below me. Shit. I began to slide back towards the edge of the cliff. The snow was too loose and my weight shifting.
The #Booksie 2019 First Chapter #Contest is giving you a chance to win up to $1000.
Grand prize winner🥇
•$1,000 CASH award
•Gold winner badge
•One free week of Boosts for any content of the winner's choosing •A review of the winning chapter by Sol Nasisi, the publisher of WorldMaker Media.
Entry fee: $7.95
Deadline: June 14, 2019
Share with all of your writer friends!
Read more at https://www.booksie.com/contest/booksie-2019-first-chapter-novel-contest-15 #6Aeli8PhlJl3WDFr .99
• This is to inform you all that We are organising a writing contest in which there would be certain criterias/ procedures. • This contest will begin from last of march.
You can send your writing stuffs *(article/poetry/quotes)* in *Hindi/English.*
And we also have some amazing cash prizes too for the winners. *_(i.e. Rs.500)_* • Few things you need to know :- 1. Your quotes shouldn't be copied from some else.
2. You've to submit your entry fee of Rs.20/- *And*
Stay tuned for further details.
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