Thanks to everyone who turned out to tweet, write, and comment. We love the way you used the prompts this week. 🙂
SOLDIER | HONORABLE MENTION | – Pattyann McCarthy | @PattyannMc
Cara Says: 500 words to capture the love of a lifetime… the result is sweet and sad, and my heart ached for the MC who longs to reunite with his love.
Ruth Says: The payoff on those first ten words (‘Love winds up ripping your heart out if you’re lucky …’) is sweetly wrenching!
UNDERBOSS | SECOND PLACE | Silver James | @SilverJames_
Cara Says: This latest peek into the world of biker werewolves doesn’t disappoint. The camaraderie these men share is so strong, as is their undeniable love for their mates.
Ruth Says: Yes, it’s the camaraderie between these friends that makes this snippet (and the story at large) so enjoyable and memorable. 😉
BOSS | FIRST PLACE | Louis Bacio | @LouisaBacio
Cara Says: Turning “love winds up” into a baseball action is about my favorite use of one of my prompts ever. It’s undeniably clever, and it works so well here. Marcus Love delivers the pitches as the tension builds toward another notch in the strikeout column.
Ruth Says: Three strikes never looked so damn good! I love the way this story incorporated the prompt and held us in thrall until that final throw!
The Winning Story: UNTITLED by Louis Bacio | @LouisaBacio
The weight of the leather ball balanced in his palm. Marcus Love smoothed his thumb over the stitching, clearing his mind and planning the strategy of the throw.
His opponent batted left, and Marcus adjusted his stance and trajectory. The roar of the crowed dulled into a background echo as he hyper-focused on the task before him. The batter licked his bottom lip, and Marcus stepped back, wound up, and pitched.
On autopilot, he lifted his glove, and the familiar “thump” resounded of the ball finding its home.
The batter squinted at Marcus, guessing at his next pitch? Or maybe re-evaluating him as an opponent?
Marcus lifted his gaze to the family seating section, and the stunning blonde in turquoise, his wife Leah. As if the universe brought them together, they made eye contact and she flashed him a smile. With two fingers on her right hand, she tapped her chest above her heart and then gestured toward him.
“Love winds up, and throws the pitch … Strike!”
Two balls down, and one left to go. The runner on second inched out, and Marcus turned to throw to the second-baseman. The runner leaped, face-first, spewing up a cloud of dust. Safe.
Like the beat of his heart. Leah stood, cheering for him, although he couldn’t hear a word she was saying over the fans, and his own blood pumping. It all came down to one more pitch.
The second-based runner dusted off his pants, and stepped away again. Marcus tucked his gloved hand behind the small of his back, surveying the field. He refocusing his energy on the ball, infusing it with his energy and willing it to go where he wants, and he lets go.
Time stalls, and he watches it swirl, cutting through the air. The batter swings, and misses. Thump.