Friday, April 22, 2011

Show Don't Tell--Crusader Challenge

~~Rachael Harrie has guided us through a great Crusade and her last challenge is a fun ride. Here are the directions:
My Show Not Tell Challenge: In 300 words or less, write a passage (it can be an excerpt from your WIP, flash fiction, a poem, or any other writing) that shows (rather than tells) the following:

*you're scared and hungry
*it's dusk
*you think someone is following you
*and just for fun, see if you can involve all five senses AND include these random words: shimmer, saccadic, substance, and salt.

~~My snip if from my SF wip THE DAWN AND THE LION. This wip is set on Patria, one of three planets initially founded from Earth. The POV is Princess Canda Aurora of Shardonia, wife of King August Leo, Imperial Heir of Patria. Times are tough as you will see. Let me know if I showed you what's going on instead of telling. If you notice some of those little sneaky telling bits, do let me know. ; )


Since the shuttle crash, the nausea that had stalked me for two weeks achieved new levels of torment. Crisp, cool water poured from the liana leaves overhead. At least I’d have something to drink when my stomach settled. Of course, the pounding rain would have to slack off before I could attempt getting any water. The puddles at my feet shimmered with each lightning bolt. They stabbed my eyes like the rockets that had burst from the forest floor.

I could still see the sun’s last rays lighting the rising clouds racing down the ridge as the first rocket tore through the shuttle’s wing and Tomas’ hands fought the saccadic tumble. But the second rocket…no pilot could compensate for that. The scraping branches and vines couldn’t cushion the bone-jarring jolt of our landing. Our attackers were near. Their victory shouts made crawling from the wreckage and running my only chance. Tomas stayed behind; his brains scattered over the instrument panel.

For now, I’d evaded capture, but there wouldn’t be any edible fruit among the wet, rotten vegetation on the forest floor. The oozing gash in my thigh from knee to hip made climbing impossible. At least the throbbing gash screamed louder than my rebellious stomach.

Sudden insight seared my mind like lightning. The rebels didn’t want me dead. I was their best hope, their champion, the only royal who heard their pleas. The honor of shooting me down belonged to the court’s Pure Patria adherents. They wanted me—the below-the-salt, upstart Shardon princess—dead before I could sully the royal bloodline. My stomach turned itself out and I wiped my sour mouth. They were too late. I had to survive for the new life I carried. The only question was how.

Special announcement!
I'm only 12 followers from 200 and three posts from 100 posts. When those milestones are achieved, I'll be announcing a blogfest with three prizes. Hope it's soon. ; )