Evil Editor's Openings

Announcement

2008-10-31T15:15:00.000-07:00

Below are excerpts from works of fiction. You have an opportunity to show the authors how their works should continue.

For each piece, the continuation deemed most entertaining by Evil Editor will be published on his blog. Judging criteria include maintaining the author's tone, and humor or shock value of the "twist" the story takes in your hands. Read the "New Beginnings" on Evil Editor's blog for examples. Submit your continuations as comments.

If you submit a continuation, you agree that it may be published royalty-free, as-is or edited, both on Evil Editor's blog and in books published by Evil Editor Publications. If you wish to be credited as the author of your continuation, include the name you want used on the blog, and the name you want used in any future book.

To submit an excerpt from your book or story, email to EvlEdtr@gmail.com (Not attached). Excerpts should be in the 150 to 200-word range. Longer ones may be trimmed. Submitting an excerpt doesn't commit you to publication in a book, but it's hoped you'll grant permission. Do include the name(s) you want used if you want credit for your excerpt.

Do not comment on the quality of the excerpts themselves. They will be removed as soon as a suitable continuation is submitted. Save comments for when the piece appears on Evil Editor's main blog (evileditor.blogspot.com).

Louisa

2008-08-10T14:11:00.001-07:00

"Someone made a mistake. That's not Dewey."

That's what Louisa wanted to say. She wanted to run to the nurses' station and cry, "That's not my Uncle, where is he?" This man's face was a fleshy puddle; gravity had stolen the smile, loosed the jowls, flattened the nose. She'd never seen him asleep before, that was all, had never even caught him in a catnap. That was why he looked so (dead? no not dead)...unfamiliar.

"Uncle Dewey, it's me. Can you hear me?" No response.

She put a hand lightly on his arm, saw his eyes rove behind wrinkled, bluish skin, and then his lids cracked, and he was staring at her. The gray of his irises looked muddy, his pupils glazed, as if he'd suddenly developed cataracts. "Uncle Dewey? Are you all right?"

He closed his eyes, turned away. Her hand found the call button, but when he opened his eyes again they were a clear, sharp gray.

"Little One, you're here."

"Of course. Can you tell me what happened?"

He paused, then said, "Last night, I left my body."

She said the only thing that came to mind. "Uh huh, okay."

"But that wasn't the bad part. The bad part came later."

Avalon

2008-08-04T04:27:00.001-07:00

The bell was going to ring high in the great Avalon Castle. A girl was running, her long strawberry-blonde hair tucked behind her right ear. Sweat dripped from her sickly, pale face as she dampened the many staircases down towards the main floor. Her fever kept ragging inside her, but she still ran to her class.

At the learning center, the apprenticeship program was in action. Students would learn the basics: mannerisms, healing concoctions, linguistics, down to reading the stars. While you didn’t get to pick your job; most thought it was better for the “Masters” to pick you. Their decisions were based on your special skills and study habits - or at least their opinion of them.

As the girl touched the door, she heard the loud gong of the bell echo the halls. The girl trembled, but just as she slammed the door open she hit an elderly priestess in gold to the floor.

Mike

2008-07-21T16:59:00.000-07:00

Mike picked up Charlotte and held her tenderly in his arms. He looked into her eyes and felt a love deeper than any he could ever have imagined. Even though 6 months had passed, the pain of her arrival still haunted him. As much as he loved her, she had cost him dearly.

His wife, the love of his life, Suzie was lost forever and it was all because of Charlotte, little Charlie. You can’t think like that Mike told himself. After all, despite the heartache and loss Charlie’s birth had caused, he wouldn’t give her up to get his old life back. After all she was his daughter. He just wished Suzie could be here as well.

Charlie wrapped her hand around the end of Mike’s pinky and giggled. The sound of it ripped at his heart; her mother used to laugh exactly the same way. Don’t think about her, Mike told himself. The only way he could get through the days was to suppress any thoughts of Suzie.

Grime

2008-07-21T11:15:00.001-07:00

He knew they’d made some kind of mistake as soon as he saw them walk into the dark tavern. They were chattering and smiling but that changed after the door swung closed behind them. It didn’t take long for their eyes to adjust, he thought with a snort. They didn’t know they were walking into a shit hole until it was too late. Sure enough, the two women went silent as they stopped abruptly and took in their surroundings. He picked up the glass of beer and chugged what was he left. The two women conferred. One pointed towards the empty bar.

They looked to be in their thirties but neither had lost their looks. MILFs, he thought. That’s what women like this were called outside that door and on the boardwalk. Each wore light-colored knee-length shorts and sleeveless blouses, casual enough for dinner at Hard Rock but nice enough not to look like a blemish at the casinos. The one-size-fits-all wardrobe didn’t work in here, though. Everybody else was wearing various combinations of denim and black. As they climbed atop bar stools, each clutching a pocketbook, he looked around and saw he wasn’t the only one watching.

Bran

2008-07-19T05:25:00.001-07:00

On that first day I woke up to arguing between some of my brothers and sisters. For some reason I'd been sleeping on the floor in the middle of my bedroom. Plants surrounded me in a large ring. Wrapping around each other slowly growing more and more intertwined, they formed a deathly wreath of red poppies, belladonna, and purple irises. My hand was outstretched to the wreath's edge, and there clasping it was my brother Bran, who lay on the floor just outside the ring. Eyes watering, he smiled at me and his voice filled my thoughts.

Welcome back.

Bran and I shared the same empathic powers, and more often than not we communicated with our thoughts, feelings, and emotions rather than spoken words. His body rang with joy, and he sent me his ebullience through our clasping hands.

Our siblings must have noticed the change in his mood because their bickering ceased, and they all came to stand around the wreath. Even though they held smiles on their faces, an underlying sense of doubt emanated from them all except Bran. His was the only true smile.