Appalachian Writer's Guild

(Oh my gosh I know this isn’t my best work but it’s something.) Why am I here? Airavata looked around at the, suffice it to say, odd group that she impulsively decided to join probably because she had a few drinks too many. But maybe it was better than the alternative: sitting in a bar dwelling on her past. Her past. Birthed from a hermit, and dumped in the nearest village. Her mother was likely not the best role model. Which is probably why Airavata wanted to become a hermit herself: to show her up. She was taken in by a young woman and raised until the age of thirteen when Airavata left for the nearest nunnery. There she was the ideal nun, and strived for perfection every single day. When she was twenty, the Abbot from the monastery her nunnery was under came to visit. Airavata shuttered at the thought. If someone gives you a bad vibe, don’t be in a room alone with them. The Abbot was there for a scheduled inspection of the nunnery. After first inspecting the nuns,...

I laid face down in the mud, the ground running slick as the rain continued to pelt the ground and break up the ground, the dirt changing just like my life had when the dark lord Demerakzar the Heinously Diabolical destroyer of whole worlds and dimensions and stuff had decided to destroy my whole village specifically but accidentally spared me when he remembered he’d left the oven on and said that he had spent all the time he could to play with me. So i just laid there wondering about all the things that had precisely gone wrong to bring me to this point in my life, like the time when i was eight years old and i tripped and face down in the grass and all the other kids of the incredibly generic fantasy village laughed at me. “Yeah,” i said out loud to myself as i stood up from my prone position, “i should have seen this coming after that happened.” “What happened here?” a mysterious person who i knew literally nothing about but immediately identified as a mentor like char...

“Don't you skirt around the issue Petokov!” A sharp female voice stated just a little too loud. “I'm not! But we are not in conflict!” A gruff, tired male voice replied, “I agree with you, the boy needs to get some fire in his heart!” Dar leaned closer to the floor of his bedroom, ignoring the loud torrent of rain outside as he focused in on his parent's conversation. “Then why haven't you put it in there?” His mother asked. “When that crazy witch stabbed Sir Tasher in the face, he ran!” “I know!” “His own sword instructor! Killed in front of him! You've been soft on him Petokov!” There was sigh loud enough to be heard through the floorboards. “SarinKov, you always told me I was running the boy too hard, he's not a Knight but a wizard, he needs to study and read books. And yet you're surprised when he folds like paper rather than staying strong like steel?” “I...” The mans voice was more annoyed now. “I didn't give him sword instructions...

Meeting Date: August 6th, 2017 Story Challenge Details: Coming of Age Items: dirt rain The next meeting is scheduled for September 3rd, 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

I crouch in wait, my body tense, coiled and ready to spring. I was given one objective; to kill Him . I spent a lifetime of training for this single job. And now, for the fifth time, He is here. He stands and talks and laughs like the happiest man on earth. Would His countenance change if he knew that in just a few short moments, He will be dead? Perhaps not; he's a narcissistic son of a bachelor with no conscience and no fear. Perhaps that is why the Master wants his dead so badly. He nods his head to the grinning shark-of-a-man who he calls his friend and sets his champagne flute on the table. He straightens his tie and turns his footsteps towards the mark. I move silently, like the shadow that I am. I have no name, no history, no purpose except to kill the Man. The Man moves next to the mark. I wait. He pauses, I can see a glimmer of a smirk curling his lips upwards. He straightens his back, slips his tail coat off. And sidesteps onto the mark. My body reacts b...

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...