Well, boopoo. Nothing is coming to mind.

I had hoped to start posting new material today, instead of recycling some old poems or short stories, but my 11:45 minute day kind of sapped any creative drive I had banked on.
 
So its pouring outside now and I'm feeling the urge to nap. I'm just going to throw some old stuff up on here again, to keep the habit. I missed two days and don't want miss any more.
 
This is a short story that didn't quite reach its completion. As it is, its just a vignette, without a real conflict or resolution. It is an anthropomorphic story, the characters being animals and all. My attempt at a zombie story I guess.

Tristam

The rifle's crosshairs fell on his prey's skull, one dune away. The barrel felt warm against his muzzle as he squinted down the sights. It wasn't the easiest kill shot but it had the highest success rate. He reached up and pushed sand goggles further up his forehead. Folding up his large ears against his skull, he sought to block out the rifle report. A fraction of the sharp crack was blocked as he squeezed the trigger to the stock. The recoil pushed his shoulder back as he dropped the hot muzzle to the sand. A split second after the release, the target collapsed to the sand in a spray of red.

 The fennec fox opened his large ears and peered at his target. He pulled the scratched and battered sand goggles down over his eyes. Swinging the rifle across his back, he slid down the face of his dune into the shadows. He squinted at the blazing sun. It was soon to reach its zenith in the cloudless sky.

 "It can wait," The fennec muttered to himself and tucked back into the shadow of the dune to wait out the sun. He sank into the hot sand and tugged a small package out of his rucksack. He unfolded a small mobile tent of the durable fabric. Pulling out a small leather flask, he took a swig of water before laying his head and upper body under the tent.

 A tinny voice crackled from a small headset in his ear. "Tam." The drawling voice paused. "Tam, come in, Tam." 

The fennec ignored the call and wrapped the robes tighter around him to block the wind driven sand. The sun beat down on the opposite side of the dune and the corpse above. 

The voice came back across, sharp and more insistent. "Tristam Sahar, please reply. Rifle shots heard in lower corner of dune sector. Repeat, please reply."

Tristam grumbled and mashed the mike key. "Yeah, I'm here, Cobbe. I'm here."

The accent dropped back into a lazy drawl again. "Copy, Tam. That shot yours?" 

"Yeah. Had a night runner on my hands. I didn't want her to reach the oasis." Tristam replied as he adjusted the rifle to lie beside him. 

Cobbe's reply was sharp with surprise. "It got that far? Well, I'll be in that area soon. Got any good for trade?" 

Tristam patted a solid packed pouch and glanced up at the corpse above him on the dune crest. "Sure. Come just after sundown." He replied into the mike. 

Cobbe's answer was swift. "Sundown, affirmative. ‘Til then."

 
This next item is just some practice I did writing in a character's voice. Its just over a paragraph. There is one particularly brutal visual though.

Soldier's voice

"I'm not a hero, so don't expect me to tell my story like one. I'll tell you the truth. I've been alone, I've been hurt. I've lost courage and deserted when someone needed me the most."

"Every one's got a breaking point. One man it may be staring down the barrel of a shotgun, and realizing the risk isn't worth the wage. For some, its the mother shielding her children selflessly. Others, its the infant being ripped from it's parents. The feel of your fist crushing the small delicate bones in a old man's face. Even the wet crunch your rifle butt makes as it pulverizes the skull of a child. Mine was a simple toy; a toddler's toy."

Once again, just old stuff but it keeps me towards the habit.

Laters!