I, Hawk, joined a microfiction writing website back on October of 2007. I wrote under the name Mistress Elsha Hawk. The name came from a combination of book characters who were powerful female leads.
Microfiction means you write a story in 1,024 letters, spaces, and all punctuation marks.
Young joined this site in May 2008. He wrote under the name Mighty Joe Young. By September 2008, we were fast friends. This is where we first began writing together on our Dragon story. At one point, Young honored me by making me a badass heroine fighting against and rescuing fellow authors as some of them had turned against us and tried to do us all in, forever ending our writing league. I’d share that, but due to the number of pennames mentioned, contributors adding to it, the tree style it took at the end, and lack of space here, I cannot.
What I can share is the first story Mighty Joe Young wrote about me being an assassin, followed by the second, where my skills in deception had much improved.
Mistress Elsha Hawk finds time to write between confirmed kills.
“More chardonnay ma’am?”
“Always, monsieur,” replied the statuesque seraphim as she rapidly typed away on her laptop while periodically evaluating her reflection in her Chanel compact.
bing I.M message reads..Target is on the move.
“Are you dining alone ma’am?” asked the regal businessman who had just approached her table.
“Yes and very busy, but, thank you.”
Her hand glides along her beautiful leg following the luscious curves to the hem of her garter to retrieve a tiny one-shot pistol from its heavenly holster.
“I am sorry, Sir, I am very busy.”
“Oh sorry, I was just noticing the motorcade going along behind you on the street. Is that…?”
Just then a loud champagne cork pops and steals the man’s attention for a split second and he says, “Well, if it was him, he must be back inside the limo. His head isn’t sticking out of the roof anymore.”
bing she types, target down
“Sir, do you happen to know a word for ‘dismembered’ that has six letters?”
“Yeah. That’s one twenty four, ficlet accomplished.”
The ending number refers to that elusive goal of 1,024. Mistress Elsha Hawk does enjoy what we call Nirvana, when you perfectly end on exactly that number of characters.
The second story is by far my favorite. He told me at the time to not be mad at him for writing it, but this has turned into my most treasured story. I adore it now.
Mistress Elsha Lays it Bare.
“Hey’d ya hear sometin?”
“The wind blows constantly, of course I didn’t hear nuttin!”
“I know you heard that!”
“Let’s go check it out.”
Mistress Elsha Hawk parachuted in from a C-130 , and used every iota of her cat-like ninja reflexes to land on a tile roof. The Bachelor/spy John Perkins had the entire area covered with surface to air missile. She had done the high altitude jump and then bungeed from the chute letting the high winds take it away unnoticed.
The stealthy spy cracked the hotel room safe and read the code word, Basement. Elsha heard the approaching guards and knew she was about to die.
“Lock and load. If anything moves, unload,” said the former navy seal to his ex seal teammates.
The men stormed in the door to see the completely nude goddess standing on the balcony smoking a cigar.
As they ran back out, thinking she must have been Perkin’s one night stand, the deadly diva did a back flip from the balcony into the sea, and swam to the extraction point.
A comment was made about how she had time to light a cigar and where the match was hidden, however, I postulate that the cigar was there the whole time, lit. The real question is, where was John Perkins??
Let’s not even mention that we have no idea where the basement is and what that code word unlocks.
That’s the beauty of only having 1,024 characters. You have to drop us in the middle of the action and cut out right after we are hooked and looking for more.
Just to be fair, I looked up the first thing I wrote about Mighty Joe Young. He’d been AWOL for a while and I totally missed him. I wasn’t the only one. A challenge was started by a good friend of ours to write stories about what we thought happened to him. Of course I’d participate! I owed him.
I thought if I wrote about him, he’d appear. He usually did. He’s like Beetlejuice, say his name three times… anyway…
What Happened To Mighty-Joe
Well I have it on good confidence that MR. Mighty-Joe himself was, in fact, just sitting at his computer minding his own business, when a knock sounded at his door.
He really wanted to finish his latest ficlet first, before answering, but the knocker knocked more persistently with every passing second. So he got annoyed and got up.
A man stood there, pointing a ray gun at him.
“Hey now, ya’ll can put that away! I’ll just come nice-like,” he squeaked out.
The man wasted no time tying his hands and throwing him facedown into the backseat of a car where he could only see the stained carpeting.
He was pulled out, hours later, and taken on an elevator down into the earth, to a secret lab outfitted in blinking lights and buttons.
“Mighty-Joe! How good to finally meet you!” A voice chirruped, though Mighty thought it was coldly sarcastic.
“Who are you?”
“Never mind me. YOU are the star here!”
“What are you talking about?”
“Tell me everything you know about Mistress Elsha Hawk!”
So you see, he was abducted because Elsha made a fatal mistake and made a friend. Never let the enemy see your weaknesses or get any leverage on you! Now they knew she had a heart and they were going right for it.