Author’s Note: If any of you are wondering why these stories are being posted instead of the next chapter of Bedlam, please see the update on my profile.

As for the stories themselves, I think they demand a little explanation. These stories are the result of a “game” which a friend and I came up with. It’s almost more of a writing exercise than a game, but it’s still rather fun. The original idea was to come up with a few random items, and then to write a story incorporating them. With the first few stories we also imposed a genre restriction. Writing these stories wasn’t meant to take long (we took somewhere between a half hour to an hour for each and I don’t think any of our stories went over two pages). A definite ending wasn’t required either, just write until you either finish or don’t feel like writing any more. After they were done, we shared them and talked about them: what we liked, what might happen next, etc. It was a surprisingly fun game, which forced us to write about things we’d have never thought about otherwise.

I liked my stories so much that I decided to put them on Fictionpress. A number of them could turn into full length stories, but don’t get your hopes up. For the moment they are read-as-is. Feedback would be appreciated however. And I highly suggest that anyone who enjoys writing should grab a friend and try the game for themselves. :)

And if anyone is curious, the friend I played with is FireKitty in my favorite authors list. I’m hoping she’ll post some of her own, so you can compare our twisted minds, but until then you might consider reading her Fateful Kiss story. It’s good, but don’t get your hopes up for an ending. I’ve been bugging her for a year and she still hasn’t finished it. But who knows, maybe some reviews will get her moving. Did I mention that World of Warcraft is an evil addiction? :P

Session 2, Story 2 of the Writing Game: A Solution for Writer’s Block

Random Things to Write About: band, tiger, tree

About this story: Both Firekitty and I had issues writing this one, which she claimed was due to my choice of “band” as one of the subjects. Personally I just had trouble focusing on what I wanted the story to be. After a false start, I ended up being pretty satisfied with the story. I’d really like to know more about PhoenixDance. Wouldn’t you?

Seevern stared blankly at the paper in front of him. He was supposed to be writing the lyrics to the band’s latest songs. Instead his mind was absolutely blank. Crumpled papers were strewn about him from the day’s past disastrous tries. With a groan he let his head thump down onto the table.

Cool hands suddenly brushed the hair back on his head and he looked up to see the quietly amused face of his guitarist, Radis. “Stop moping,” the man commanded, a laugh hidden beneath his words.

“But I can’t think of anything. Nothing good enough to match the music you wrote…” It was an old argument and Seevern’s words petered out at Radis’ unconvinced look.

Suddenly, Radis put his face directly in front of Seevern’s. As always, this sort of closeness unnerved the singer. Seevern had been part of PhoenixDance for five years. He felt as though the band was his family, but the guitarist always managed to do things that left him confused. Like the way he was looking at him right now, his odd green eyes almost glowing. “Do you want me to play the music for you?” Radis asked.

Seevern quickly shook his head. Listening to Radis’ music before there were words to it always seemed somehow dangerous. Its wild nature needed to be tamed with words, or else one’s soul was in danger. At least that was the feeling Seevern always got when Radis played it. He was okay with Karon or Tamor picking out the basic tunes for him, but he always avoided hearing Radis until after there were words.

“Then get writing. You wouldn’t want the Tigers to do better at the concert on Saturday, would you? We did promise that we’d have at least one new song by then.”

The reminder of just how little time he had made Seevern’s stomach flip, but the thought of besting their rival band, The Black Tigers, actually helped to perk him up. He would be damned if he’d let those little poser snots steal away any of Phoenix’s fans. Seevern lifted the pen and poised it over the paper, sure that he was about to come out with the most magnificent lyrics ever written.

A second later his head was back on the table, and this time he continued to bang it with a rhythmic thumping. Radis sighed, then grabbed the singer by his collar and hauled him to his feet.

“Wah?” Seevern tried to ask as his words were choked off by the guitarist’s hold. Radis didn’t give him a chance to say anything else as he dragged the other man from the room, out of the apartment, down the stairs of the building, and through the door into the open air. He kept pulling the singer along as he strode toward the edge of the wildly forested park which their building bordered.

They were in the trees before Seevern had regained his balance and when his babbled questions failed to produce any response from Radis, the singer began to get very nervous. Radis was in one of his moods and there was no telling what he would do. Unable to escape the guitarist’s grip on his wrist, Seevern was forced to warily follow along.

Finally, they emerged into a clearing. Seevern was too focused on the happy feelings produced by their halt to immediately notice what was in front of him. When he did, he walked forward in a daze, not even noticing that Radis had released him and was now watching him with that familiar amused smile.

“I’ll just leave you here to think a bit,” the guitarist called, knowing that Seevern would barely hear him. The singer was too absorbed with the gigantic tree in front of him. Its gnarled surface and the light slanting through its lush foliage had surely captured his thoughts by this point, and Radis would simply leave the man to relax for a few hours before returning to tear him away.

The guitarist smiled to himself as he strolled from the clearing. As far as humans went, Seevern was an amazingly talented musician and Radis knew that he had chosen well in selecting him as his lyricist. The man was more than capable of taming his music, but even the best needed to unwind every now and then. A few hours with the Dreaming Tree and Seevern should be more than ready to write some songs. With this pleased thought, the guitarist walked further into the dark woods, blending so well that it became hard to distinguish where the trees ended and the…not quite man began.