"The Ritual" - 1 hour challenge
#1 of 1 Hour Challenges (Commission and personal)
Something I do on occasion is a "1 hour challenge", write a full story and try to edit it in 60 minutes. This doesn't count "kicking it around in my head" time, obviously, but you get the idea. This was the first one I tried, and I kinda like it.
1 hour challenge. To create a full short story, written and edited, in 60 minutes or less.
3:17 begin
"The Ritual"
He came back into his home after a full day at the field. He dropped the gear bag in the entry way with a loud thud, and pushed it to one side with his feet. He placed his boots into the slop sink, and stripped to his boxers and his tags. This was the ritual. There's always the ritual.
All his clothing was placed in the washing machine, but let them sit. They weren't going anywhere, and he wanted to clean himself off first. He padded from the entryway and quietly made his way to the bathroom. Not looking at the phone, or the answering machine, or the computer, he wanted to get clean first. It was what he promised himself. This was his ritual, for him alone.
Out of reflex he grabbed the towels out of the closet and put them on the sink across from the shower. He turned on the overhead fan, the overhead light, and the clock radio. The radio phased into life, screaming out the guitar solo of "Freebird". He chuckled, exhaling it out his nose more than speaking it. He then turned on the shower.
The water paused, and then shot from the showerhead. In a few moments, it began to billow steam into the room and up to the exhaust fan. He physically relaxed, letting the smell of warm water wash through his mind. It was part of the ritual. It is how the day always ends. His boxers hit the floor, leaving him naked but his tags. The tags go in with him. They stay on until the ritual is complete.
He brushed his paw through the water, and adjusted the temperature to a little cooler. He stepped into the tub, and closed the shower door behind him. Water washed over his head, across his flopped ears and down his neck. He closed his eyes slowly, and let his body sink into the comforting warmth. He could feel the dust on his fur washing down from the top of his head. He murred softly as heat radiated all around him, through his very being. The white noise of the shower let his mind let go, and unfocus on the world.
"POP" His body jerked up and his eyes snapped open to darkness. Only the hall light kept the room somewhat visible. "Oh, fucking great." He mumbled to himself. He'd have to replace that bulb later. But the water still ran, and the radio still played. He sighed to himself, and as he exhaled he forced his shoulders to relax. He'd deal with that later. The ritual had to go on. The water ran down his shoulders, the heat easing the soreness. He closed his eyes, and let go.
He tilted his head back and let hot water run down the top of his muzzle, and through the short fur of his chest. He tightened his ass as water ran over the base of his tail and the tip of his sheath at the same time. This was his only guilty pleasure of the ritual, always letting it go longer than it really needed to. He let a low murr rumble through his throat before finally reaching for the side rack on the shower.
Fumbling in the dark, he finally found the bottle he wanted. He pressed the topper and the smell of spices filled his muzzle. It was the mildest soap he could find, and it still overwhelmed his senses in the steam. With his free paw he pushed the shower head to the side, and dumped the soap on top of his head.
The ritual had truly begun now. The ritual he always promised himself when he was in, but never got to do until he got out. His muzzle perked into a slight smile as he felt the soap run down his fur and onto his true skin. He brought the shower head back to center, and tilted his head back to let the water rinse the soap out.
A taste in his muzzle changed to a high end flavor of warm metal. He could feel the water streaming down the beaded chain, forming a harder flow straight down his belly when it hit his tags. He shook his head gently, letting the water flow around his flopped ears. He took time to make sure there was no soap under them, and then pushed the shower out to the side again.
One more heavier press, and his paw was filled with more soap. He quickly massaged it through the fur that was always the worst after these outings. His forearms, his ankles, and his neck usually. Tonight was no different, except he took time to get the small of his back and the base of his tail. After the digger in the mud behind the opfor base, he wanted those to be clean.
With each massaging, he could feel the dirt being washed away. At least he always felt like he did. It was the purpose of the ritual. Wash away the bad, even if it's all just in the head. Clean the body, clean the soul, let all the negative of the day simply vanish down the drain.
It wasn't long before he finally felt completely clean. He turned to face into the shower itself, and aimed it to the center of the shower stall. He leaned his body forward, and pressed his forearms into the wall to let the water flow over the back of his neck. Water flowed over him, and down the chain around his neck into his tags. He could feel the water slosh forward and back as the tags would swing to the front and back gently.
Slowly, he closed his eyes, and smiled to himself. How many times in those years did he promise himself this small pleasure? How often did he wish that he could have done this when he was still in? A full day in the field, and then back to the billet to sleep. Or even a full week, or month in the field. Just some simple pleasures held him through the worst of times, knowing if he made it he could come home to this.
"Hope you had your lighters out for that one! FREEBIIIRRRRRRD!!!!" A DJ screamed into his microphone. The change from music caused him to come back to reality and refocus. He held up the tags in his paw, and moved them through the hot water. With the final element done, he let himself linger in the steam before finally pushing the faucet back into the wall with his knee.
"It's a great weekend to be in Chicago! Tonight we're hosting a party down at McHoluihans as a pre-game warmup, come and see our Rock Girls live and in person!" He shook his head and snickered to himself. Last thing he needed was to be around more fake testosterone. He'd had enough of that for a day. He shook himself in the shower, sending water flying in the small shower box. He ran his paws to the back of his head, and stretched with a loud grunt.
The ritual was completed. He put his paw around the tags on his neck, closed his eyes, and just nodded to himself. He took the tags off, and placed the chain over the shower head to drip dry. He drew his paw away slowly, with respect, and just smiled in the dim light.
He opened the shower door, and pawed in the dark for his towels. As he dried himself off he looked up at the light and hoped he had a replacement in the basement somewhere. He switched off the radio, and the light, but left the fan running as he padded to his bedroom to grab some clean clothing. The night was still young, after all.
4:01 Finished typing
4:17 Finish Editing