March 10 2014

WritingwritingwritingwritingwritngOUCHcryingcryingcryingcryingSTOPachungachingachingachingDAMNITangryangryangryBREATHINGwalkingwalkingwalkingwalkingBARELYtypingtypingtypingNOTENOUGH.

WHAT'S WITH TODAY, TODAY?

-CLASSYBIPED

March 8,9 2014

Writing Attempt: Editing and Continuing the Untitled Story.



So: I am posting a couple more teasers from what I've been working on. I want to share it all, but I also don't want to put it all on the internet because I hope to sell at least a few copies when I'm done!

I'm merging yesterday and today because last night, I stupidly got into a bike kerfuffle wherein I split a decent part of my chin skin open and didn't have the wherewithal to type what I had scribbled down during the day. Now that I'm less freaked out and shaking less, I am working on the continuation and edit of what I've been working on. I hope it continues to intrigue you!

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WORK

His fluidity of movement while on fire impressed Dahlia and reminded her of the first live performance she ever saw, a re-enactment of the crucifixion of Christ at Reap and Sow Church. The man who played Jesus, a.k.a. Jenni Gonzalez’ father, replaced the prop crown of thorns with a crown of barbed wire unbeknownst to anyone ‘backstage’ and almost bled to death in front of 267 God-fearing men, women and children on a Sunday afternoon. Dahlia liked that day. Dahlia liked his passion and sacrifice for the role. The man in front of her, Jacob, was giving the same dedication to the show and it made her wet with desire and shiver with fear.

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Ouch - NotSoClassyBiped

March 7 2014

Writing Attempt: The Tease


 

The pain was sudden and excruciating. Dahlia let herself fall against the concrete and slide down, down until her ass was planted and her legs bent and splayed. She growled and grabbed her chest – something was going on, but what, she did not know.




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Only giving you all a few sentences of what I've been working on today.

Classy Biped

March 6 2014

Writing Attempt: Revision

WORK

His hair was perfectly lit by the fire. Dahlia took her mug to her lips and gulped in the cold anise tea. Taking in the scene in front of her made her feel like a director. A stager of strange art. She silently laughed at that thought. The man screamed, absolutely in pain. Dahlia reminisced about the first ballet she ever saw, Romeo & Juliet, and let the remembered music flow over the twitchy movements of the lit man in front of her.

“Scream all you want. But you know the deal.” Dahlia took in another long sip and smiled. “You want to live or not?” The man raised his hands above his head and stopped his screaming. Dahlia flicked her Zippo and lit her cigarette. “How afraid are you?” She asked.

“I’m fearless.” He said.

Then keep going till you absolutely have to stop.”

“Ok.”

He walked towards her and leaned in, heat and all. Dahlia exhaled on his burning frame. He grabbed his eyes tightly and became hard. Dahlia leaned back in her chair at the sight.  She liked to watch.

 

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Another sneak peek at what I'm working on for my self publication.

 

happy March 6th

 

Classy Biped

 

 

March 3 2014

Writing Attempt: Short Story Continuation

Upon emerging from the bathroom, Dahlia found Hector leaned against the range with a half used box of trash bags in hand. Her heart sank and swelled simultaneously. Asphyxiation was an easy act to stop but it was also usually an indication that the client wasn’t serious enough for her time and expected something more than she offered. Something useless.

“Sweet Caroline. I want to die.” Hector said.

“I know. But I want you to live.” Dahlia leaned onto the kitchen island with an outstretched hand.

“Prove it.” Said Hector.

“I can’t.” Said Dahlia.

“Then I’m beginning.” Hector pulled out the black plastic trash bag, dropping the container on the floor and placed it over his head.

“Go ahead.” Dahlia said softly. “But once you put that over your head, you won’t be able to see what it is I’m doing now.”

“And what is that?” Hector’s response moved the black trash bag in and out.

“I can’t say. I can only do.” Dahlia’s voice was just above a whisper.

“I want to see.”

“Then Take it off.”

“I can’t.”

“Then talk to me.” Dahlia spoke in the lowest register she could.

“I can’t.” Hector pulled the yellow ribbon ties tight around his neck.

“Then I’m leaving.” Dahlia took two loud steps back in her heels.

“Wait.”

“Yes?”

“I’ll Talk.” Hector breathed in so deeply the bag adhered to the shape of his sad mouth.

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This is an excerpt from the longer piece I'm writing tonight............I hope it intrigues enough.


classy bipeddddddddd

March 2 2014

This is my post for tonight.  I just spent 2 hours outlining what I think may be one of the strongest contenders for my self published book.....we'll see....it's going to be a long night.

March 1 2014

Writing Attempt: Dahlia Story Continuation

His hair was perfectly lit by the fire. Dahlia took her mug to her lips and gulped in the cold anise tea and took in the scene. She remembered the first ballet she ever saw, Romeo & Juliet, and let the music flow over the slow, pained movements of the lit man in front of her. Dahlia took in another long sip and smiled. She liked to watch.

***

Hero’s tail had been amputated after he was hit by the Chevy Astro. Which was only hours before his name was changed from Bailey to Hero.  

The kids seemed to take to him more after the whole incident. Jillie was finally happy to seek his affection and Jackie took on the role of caretaker and friend. Dahlia watched the three of them from the car, Jackie throwing the ball for Hero and Jill tackling him as his jaws clamped around the fuzzy green sphere in triumph. It had been three years since Kyle had left and seeing the ease of play in the girls that afternoon made Dahlia finally feel like things were moving on.

***

The phone call came around 2am. Jillie, following a long temper tantrum had just fallen asleep, Jackie had conked out four hours before. Dahlia weighed her options. If she left now, she could be back home before the girls woke up, but since Jillie had devoured a Popsicle only 30 minutes before bed she worried that she would be beckoned much earlier than that.

After the third phone call, Dahlia realized there was no one coming to watch over the girls. Decision time. Dahlia mentally calculated the funds for the month. After rent, after groceries, after the car payment and less the child support…they were in the negative. The call came again. She hesitated to answer, but did.

“Sweet Caroline to your rescue.” She crooned.

“I’m starting in 15. Tell me you’re coming now.” The voice over the phone was intriguingly gruff. The dashboard of the car graced her mind and reminded her that it was almost at “E”.

Dahlia took in a deep breath.

“Postpone for 10 and I’ll leave in 5.”

“You’re toying with me.”

“I’m doing what you want. I’m giving you orders.” She could nearly hear the goose bumps she had given him. Dahlia rifled through her underwear drawer. “Defy me and the cost goes up.” She lit the blunt she was looking for.

“I’ll give you 5.” The voice had changed its tone.

“You’ll give me 10, and allow for 15.” Dahlia exhaled directly into the receiver. “Right?”

“See you then.” The voice hung up.

Dahlia took 3 minutes to check each room. 2 minutes to put on her Kevlar. 1 minute to get in and start the car and arrived exactly on time.

***

Dahlia parked the car across the street from the building and turned off her lights. She checked her mirror to verify the address.

“Fuck.” She said. “Fucking doorman? Are you kidding me? Fuck.” She dialed the contact number.

“Hello?” Said the voice.

“There’s a doorman. I don’t do doormen.”

“What?”

“Let me re-phrase that. I cannot allow doormen. I cannot enter a building wherin a doorman dwells. Make sense?” Dahlia grabbed the knob of the stick shift hard and rolled it in a circle.

“I’m starting.” The voice was definitive.

“What? No. Do not-I’m not going to be there to help-hello?” The voice was gone. “Oh no, no no you moron, I am not saving you like this.” Dahlia started the car and peeled out onto the road. “Fucking moron. He knew the rules. Why doesn’t anyone listen to the GODDAMN RULES.” She smashed her palm against the horn and blew through the red light.