Appalachian Writer's Guild

The Gun fires and the breech opens. My crew mate, Jim, throws the old powder casing out. I lift the projectile from the hoist and place it on the loading tray for the gun. Bill, well he loads a powder case onto it behind my projectile. I pull the lever and the projectile is rammed into the gun and the breach closes. Few seconds later, it fires. Maybe we're firing at aircraft, the gun is aimed up and our turret is rotating. Maybe we're firing at a cruiser, and have to aim high to arch the shells up to hit it. Maybe we're right along side some Jap battleship, punching holes in her side to sink her. Hell if I know. The breech opens and the spent case is removed. I can't hear anything except the thud of guns. I load the projectile, the Mount Captain, an old hard ass sergeant named Gregory is shouting something, not that I can hear him so I assume it ain't towards me. I pull my lever and my wait for the gun to fire. I feel the ship tilt, must be pulling a hard St...

“That was weak, are you sure you served in the great war? maybe you were delusional and served in the okay war instead!” I sneered as i stumbled back from being shoved by some brute i was trading barbs with, a childish insult for sure but good enough for my inebriated state. I felt a strong pair of arms wrap around me in a less than friendly hug, my brain one second behind as i realized i forgot about the man’s drinking buddy, the brute snickering as i had undoubtedly fallen into his expertly laid trap. The Brute, a grizzled man with a few scars on his exposed skin took a moment to compose himself, the sounds of Sophie Tucker’s “Some of these days” wafting through the small bar, merriment slowing as more people started to notice the scene.   “I know your type, you’re one of those sailors, thinking you’re all high and mighty for serving your country” the Brute retorted as i struggled against the man holding me, looking up at him and giving him a good natured smile, whic...

Meeting Date: July 16th, 2017 Story Challenge Details: Action- Visceral Fight Items: Mint Ladder The next meeting is scheduled for August 6th, 2017 If you have questions, comments, or are interested in joining the Appalachian Writer's Guild, let us know! We are now on Facebook, so check us out there! Email:  appwritersguild@gmail.com Facebook:  drop in and give us a like! -Appalachian Writer's Guild

 Glowing Sand A cold wind whipped across her face as she ran through the desert, above her Khonsu, the Moon shone brilliantly across the dark sands and illuminated her path towards the distant temple. She had left her royal escort behind, slipping out from the royal yacht and swimming to shore, with luck she would make it to the temple before they discovered her absence. As she approached the Temple she heard a wolf howling in the distance and doubled her pace, a single desert wolf she could handle, but the howl of wolf could be more than a simple beast, her mind darted to the possibility of a signal, someone perhaps had seen her coming? Time, time was running out for her. The Temple was small and low, with rows and rows of statues standing outside, their shadows casting a haunting gloom across the stone steps. Inside the gate a single candle was lit illuminating a dark hallway into the complex. “Sedjet” She whispered, and a small flicker of flame erupted from her fing...

I am cursed, it is a burden my people are reminded of every night when we slip into the realm of dreams and the nightmare of that fateful evening torment us. It’s events playing over and over and reminding us of why we cover our eyes in shame and every night i dread the necessity of sleep as i lay upon my straw bed, apprehensively waiting for it to take me and the nightmare to begin. My eyes open and the first thing i notice is that i’m not wearing something to cover my eyes, though i don’t feel the need to either. The sun filters in through the windows casting long rays of light on the pews and it occurs to me that i should go upstairs and ring the bell to mark the passing of the hour. Behind me someone knocks on the door as they enter into my church calling out to me with a good natured hello as they make their way down the aisle. “Good evening my child,” i reply warmly, “is there something i may do for you?” i ask, my guts detecting a hint of malice from this stranger. ...

I wait tensely, perched on the edge of a tree branch, watching the sky with trepidation. I shouldn't be here. A Fairy, especially on of my royal blood, would rather die than be seen with a Dragonkin. Or at least, most  fairies would. But most of the Fair-Folk aren't hopelessly in love with a dragon either. The sky darkens for a moment, I burrow deeper into the leaves, my eyes flickering upwards in time to catch the sea-green flash of scales, listening as the forest around me grows quiet, and even the wolves cease to howl. He vanishes into the foliage and I hold my breath, waiting impatiently for him. I came with only one mission, and I must fulfill it. I hear him before I see him. Dragonkin aren't nearly as good at being quiet as other forest creatures, but what can one expect for someone so large? A single gust of wind from his wings alone is enough to flatten an entire field of hay. I catch the occasional glimmer of his brilliant scales before I feel the air aro...

Meeting Date: June 11th, 2017 Story Challenge Details: Fantasy, based in a generic world Items: Wolf Hay The next meeting is planned for July 2nd, 2017. If you have questions, comments, or are interested in joining the Appalachian Writer's Guild, let us know! We are now on Facebook, so check us out there! Email:  appwritersguild@gmail.com Facebook:  drop in and give us a like! -Appalachian Writer's Guild