It’s funny. I wrote Drawings in the Sand just over a year ago. It was selected to go into an anthology, but when I read it through again now, I want to change so much. I want to rewrite it and make it better. It is the curse of the writer.
I think we could keep revising and rewriting a single story our entire lives. There comes a time when we just have to walk away before we revise it back to the way it was when we started.
As I said before, IndiesUnlimited.com run these competitions weekly. It is open to anyone and is a great way to practice your storytelling. Let me know if you enter. I’d be glad to check out your entry and throw a vote your way.
Every week they post a picture and a title to inspire you. It’s amazing the variety of stories that they spawn. Anyhow, here is another entry I submitted. It wasn’t as successful as the last one, but I still like it.
The clash of steel on steel reverberated through the forest, punctuated by heavy breaths that released clouds of steam into the brisk morning air. They circled around him, waiting for a chance to attack. He eyed them with contempt.
Three against one.
A flash of light caught his eye as a blade arced down towards him. He spun, thrusting his sword up to block the attack. His handle rattled against his fingers as he continued the spin before whipping his blade across his body.
Two against one.
They lunged forwards in unison. One blade slashed high. He knocked it away with ease, but the second sword thrust low stopping his counter-attack. It bit into his thigh causing him to stumble. He took a step to steady himself and drove forwards swinging his blade up and through.
One against one.
He dropped to one knee as searing pain burnt through one side of his body. The next attack came without hesitation. He blocked one slash, but a quick second thrust found its mark. The blade pierced his shoulder. He gripped his attacker’s hilt as he stood, pulling them face to face before returning the favour with his own blade.
The forest became silent once more. He watched his breath rising up into the trees and past a pair of large golden eyes. The owl waited patiently, ready to escort him to the next life. With gritted teeth, he climbed to his feet.
“Not today, Owl!”