Writing Teaser

Reader suggested we do some writing samples to get interest going. I'm also testing to see if our Facebook page picks this up or if I have to do more finagling.

Reminder, the 100AP does have a writing project.

• 100 Artists Writers - 20 writers. Up to 3,500 word short stories supporting The Office of Letters and Light. 2,500 words at roughly 250 a page would be 10 pages. Formatting may alter that. Please don't go over 2,500. Feel free, however to remain well under that. Any type of short story is ok but it'd be especially cool to have some good science fiction, horror, or mystery. Oh yes, please stick to fiction. I won't necessarily turned down quantum physics papers or poetry but I'd rather get some good speculative fiction.

So here's one of the first submissions. It's just a few paragraphs, for the rest you'll have to eventually buy a copy of the book. :) It's by Trey Wickwire, someone I should have more contact with. He's a fellow Texan and we've sadly spoken only a handful of times, but he seems like a good fellow.

DNR
By Trey Wickwire

Today. Would today be the day? The day that it all ended. The thoughts ran through the knight’s mind as they had everyday for as long as he could remember. The pale dawn light filtered through the trees and he pulled his dark cloak tighter around his shoulders. It did little to keep the chill from his bones. Sir Thomas suspected the fires of hell couldn’t warm his bones.

Standing, Sir Thomas reached out for the large rock he had sheltered behind during the night. Sitting in the lee of the stone had kept most of the wind off of him and the thick wool of his cloak had kept him, if not pleasant, then at least comfortable enough to sleep. Groaning, he stretched the kinks out of his joints. Sleeping sitting up next to a rock in full armor wasn’t the most relaxing of things, still, it was necessary.

The knight’s head whipped around at the sound of a twig snapping, instantly alert. The sound had come from the far side of the boulder. Quickly, Sir Thomas threw his cloak over his shoulder, revealing the gleaming silver armor underneath and freeing the sword at his side for easy retrieval. With a whisper the heavy blade was out of its sheath and ready in the knight’s strong hand.

Sir Thomas carefully examined the gleaming blade. In the dull light of dawn it still shined with the reflected light from the rising sun, but reflection was all it was. The tell tale glow that signaled danger was nowhere to be seen. Slowly, he peeked over the stone. A fox was peering back, unhappy with the human interruption of its morning foraging.

Another snap of a twig sent the fox bounding away. Sir Thomas dropped to one knee and swung the now brightly glowing sword. The bright metal sliced through the rotting flesh of the zombie creeping up behind the knight. Dry husks spilled out of the body cavity like the winter dead leaves of ancient oaks.

Taking the sword in two hands, Sir Thomas struck again, upward from on bended knee. The blade struck the long dead man in the arm pit and slide upward, meeting little resistance. The head and one shoulder fell off the creature, landing in the soft grass as quietly as the zombie had crept up on the knight.