The rules are simple and liberal: Pick one of the stories that another writer has posted under RE-WRITE CHALLENGE and re-write it!
Keep all characters from the original story and basically keep the story-line the same. That is it!
The core of this exercise to the re-write someone else’s story from beginning to end.
Examples:
If the original story is in the first person, you can change it into the third person or vise-versa.
If you want to subordinate the main character in the original story to another character in that story, then do it.
If the original story is seen through the eyes of a bystander and you wish to change it to the eyes of his/her dog, then do it.
If you want to place the original story in your nightmare, then do it.
If in the original story a Knight is defending a castle from a dragon by stabbing at it with a sword, and you wish to make a recognizable setting on another planet with a space-marine fighting off a alien-monster outside his base, then the space-marine must be fighting off the monster with a bayonet or sword or some type sharp instrument!
I think ’Space-marine’s setting’ shows what I mean by changing settings and the characters. They should be recognizable ones, but they don’t have to be a carbine copy of the original. But if you want to keep the original setting and characters as the original writer did, then by all accounts do so. But remember, it’s your use of language, style, tone, word usage, and approach to scenes that is important and not just changing the settings and appearance of the characters.
The changes or lack of them in settings are up to you! And the character changes, as long as they are recognizable from the original story, are also up to you.
In this exercise only writers who have volunteered their stories for this exercise may participate, so please pull out one of your stories and say to yourself “I wonder how someone else would....”
Also, only your stories that have been posted on Aphelion are eligible.
We might get multiple re-writes on the same story, but then again in this exercise I want the ‘re-writer’ to have near unlimited freedom in creativity, and I don’t want him/her to select another story because the one he/she really wanted was already picked. Creative juices have a strange way of flowing, and any obstruction large or small can become a Hoover Dam to Creativity’s flow. Multiple re-writes of one story each by a different re-writers are Okay.
To post a story, make a reference to it on Aphelion. I’ll make the first post:
“Albino Alligator” by George T. Philibin---February 2006
I’ll also re-post mine under postreply to demonstrate what I mean. I think that the by-line from your story should also be posted!!!
Please no more posts after May, 15.
All stories should be completed by June 15, but if you complete it earlier then post it.
When you post your finished re-write, make sure you also post a reference to the original story and author----the month and year that it was posted on Aphelion.
To re-cap, pick another one’s story, re-write it then post it by June 15th.
RE-WRITE CHALLENGE
Moderator: Editors
RE-WRITE CHALLENGE
Tesla Lives!!!
Albino Alligator by George T. Philibin
Albino Alligator by George T. Philibin
Power politics can be a bloody business, alligator power politics in the Everglades even more so. But a great leader understands the value of friendship, and Tudlow was a great leader.
Power politics can be a bloody business, alligator power politics in the Everglades even more so. But a great leader understands the value of friendship, and Tudlow was a great leader.
Tesla Lives!!!
Albino Alligator by George T. Philibin
Albino Alligator by George T. Philibin -----February 2006
Power politics can be a bloody business, alligator power politics in the Everglades even more so. But a great leader understands the value of friendship, and Tudlow was a great leader.
I left out the date in the first post, sorry.
Power politics can be a bloody business, alligator power politics in the Everglades even more so. But a great leader understands the value of friendship, and Tudlow was a great leader.
I left out the date in the first post, sorry.
Tesla Lives!!!
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kailhofer
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bump
Bumping this up so it shows as last modified after I updated the Flash Index.
One question, though. As I read the rules, more than one person could rewrite the same story, meaning there could be someone who goes through the effort to rewrite another's story, and then no one returns the favor? Is that right?
Nate
One question, though. As I read the rules, more than one person could rewrite the same story, meaning there could be someone who goes through the effort to rewrite another's story, and then no one returns the favor? Is that right?
Nate
Hardcover, paperback, pdf, eBook, iBook, Nook, and now Kindle & Kobo!
A cooperative effort between 17 Aphelion authors. No part of any sales go to Aphelion.
A cooperative effort between 17 Aphelion authors. No part of any sales go to Aphelion.
That is a good option! If one wants to re-write more than one story, good.
You can start before the 15, and if another story is posted that you would like to re-writer after you started an earlier one, that would be Okay.
It is interesting about creative thinking: I’ve noticed all my life that if one has few rules or restrictions to follow, his/her creative juices will flow!! On the other end, if one has masses of restrictions and rules and dos and don’ts, then his/her creative juices begin to flow. And good example of that is prisoners who formed prison gangs, made millions, spread their gangs outside the prison walls, and recruited members from outside the prison!! Yet, they were incarcerated for Life!! It’s we who live in the middle of rules and regulations that seem to conform and let our creativity wan. I've noticed that for the last forty-years of so!!!
You can start before the 15, and if another story is posted that you would like to re-writer after you started an earlier one, that would be Okay.
It is interesting about creative thinking: I’ve noticed all my life that if one has few rules or restrictions to follow, his/her creative juices will flow!! On the other end, if one has masses of restrictions and rules and dos and don’ts, then his/her creative juices begin to flow. And good example of that is prisoners who formed prison gangs, made millions, spread their gangs outside the prison walls, and recruited members from outside the prison!! Yet, they were incarcerated for Life!! It’s we who live in the middle of rules and regulations that seem to conform and let our creativity wan. I've noticed that for the last forty-years of so!!!
Tesla Lives!!!
He must kill the Children Before he Dies.
A re-write of Mark Edgemon’s story by George T. Philibin
On February 8, 1968, Edley entered this world. But darkness became Edley Barrow’s sunshine and solitude his companion.
An injured dog caught Edley’s eyes one day as he drove home. Hit by a car Edley surmised. The fresh, invigorating blood that oozed out onto the pavement, coupled with the impaling look of despair, became ecstasy to Ebley.
Edley’s face metamorphosed into a radiant smile, his eyes hardened into twin diamonds of a purity unknown to the best jewelers, and his heart, a beating ceremonial drum now, kept time to his breath that drew deeper and deeper with each droplet of blood that hit the pavement!
Edley pulled out his pocketknife, slit the dog’s stomach open, slowly, effortlessly, possessing a surgical skill that would envy most in the medical field. Then his eyes found the dog’s. A normal person would see agony in those dog eyes, but Eldey’s smile deepened, this eyes sparked, and his breath let out a long ahhh as his heart slowed its beat like an old steam locomotive approaching a station. Edley’s eyes sparkled like twin nova stars as the poor dog jerked once or twice while he looked up at Edley with eyes soon to see this world no more.
Edley face became slightly flushed, his smile returned like when a teacher placed a star on his forehead in grammar school. He shrugged his shoulders as if he just completed a power-press, and after wiping off his knife on the dog’s fur, he stepped back like a faithful does after completing prays to a God in a temple.
He saw some children walking with their parents but now couldn’t take his eyes off the little-ones as they hopped and skipped or looked up at their parents with questions or looked around like explorers in a new and exciting land.
Finally Edley drove home, slowly.
He enticed an eight-year-old boy with a question. After the boy stuck his head through the passenger window of Edley’s car, Edley grabbed the boy’s head with both hands and pulled him through the open window with a strength that fed itself on his sickness of mind. He drove off to an empty warehouse, isolated but not far!
“AHHHHHHHHHHHH,” the little boy screamed.
“Wasn’t that fun. See your skin? We’ll slice off another piece in a moment,” Edley said.
“Please... Mrs please stop...please stop...AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH,” The little boy screamed.
“You’ve been a bad little boy,” Edley said.
“I’ll be good----I promise I’ll be good AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH”
“It’s too late kid--you should have listened to your mother!!” Edley said.
Edley buried the little boy behind his apartment in a ticket. He also threw in all the slices of the little boy’s skin, like fresh bacon to Edley, it seemed.
Edley walked out of the ticket, and his needs started throbbing again for another victim.
A blonde girl’s hair dancing with the wind catch Edley’s eyes. She was about six and leaving an elementary school that Edley was watching for such a victim to emerge. She was perfect, and his well planned-approach should be perfect in getting her to come with him.
“I’m detective Watkinson.” Edely flashed a gold fake badge in front of her eyes. “We got a call from you family asking us to pick you up. There’s are some very bad men around and they are worried about your safety.” Eldey said. Just then her teacher walked out from the school building and said, “Good afternoon Mr. Blasley”
The little girl looked up at Edley and said. “You’re not my father!” Edley quickly replied with “All men in suits look the same to her.” Then he nudged her into the car. Her teacher then said, “Remember, tomorrow is Dress-down day, Britney.”
“Don’t do that!” Britney said. Edley tied her hands behind her back. “I’m going to tell my father on you!”
The coffin built for this purpose loomed in front of Britney eyes. And her eyes grew in size as Eldley carried her towards it. “AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH please don’t! Please! please...”
Britney’s screamed became muffled after Edley sealed the lid with screws driven in with a battery-powered screwdriver. But Edley’s ears didn’t notice the difference as he screwed in one then another, then another, then....
Once the coffin was covered, Edley stepped into his living room and zoomed in on Britney. Two spy-type cameras and a light source had been molded into the coffin, and now Edley could watch the final moments of Britney’s life.
But the images were blurred as Britney squirmed, and the only sounds were his thoughts, and in less the three minutes she was dead. He had been cheated, cheated by a twist of his planning. The next time a bigger coffin, better cameras with sound and maybe speakers so he could talk as his victim suffocated, slowly. Yes, better planning.
Sketches of Edley were on the news. He hurriedly packed-up and moved about fifty miles out of town.
But gnawing in his stomach for more sent him back into town, looking. And before long another opportunity had opened up itself to him.
A game of touch football caught Edley’s eyes. He stopped the car. Watched for a few minutes then darted into the lot and stopped.
He got out, flashed his detective badge, grabbed one of the boys and said, “You are under arrested for trespassing.”
“What’s your name?” Edley said.
“David Bunhan” the boy answered.
Edley pushed David into his car and drove off.
Edley entered a junkyard and stopped. Nobody was around. He pulled out his pocketknife, opened up the bladed and showed it to David.
David was smiling. Before Edley could ask why, a sharp and goring pain filled him up from stomach to chest, seizing him into immobility.
Edley looked down and saw an old style switch-blade handle being twisted at his stomach by David’s hand.
He looked into David's clear and joyous eyes as David declared without a quiver in his voice. “You got a mighty small knife there, buddy!”
A re-write of Mark Edgemon’s story by George T. Philibin
On February 8, 1968, Edley entered this world. But darkness became Edley Barrow’s sunshine and solitude his companion.
An injured dog caught Edley’s eyes one day as he drove home. Hit by a car Edley surmised. The fresh, invigorating blood that oozed out onto the pavement, coupled with the impaling look of despair, became ecstasy to Ebley.
Edley’s face metamorphosed into a radiant smile, his eyes hardened into twin diamonds of a purity unknown to the best jewelers, and his heart, a beating ceremonial drum now, kept time to his breath that drew deeper and deeper with each droplet of blood that hit the pavement!
Edley pulled out his pocketknife, slit the dog’s stomach open, slowly, effortlessly, possessing a surgical skill that would envy most in the medical field. Then his eyes found the dog’s. A normal person would see agony in those dog eyes, but Eldey’s smile deepened, this eyes sparked, and his breath let out a long ahhh as his heart slowed its beat like an old steam locomotive approaching a station. Edley’s eyes sparkled like twin nova stars as the poor dog jerked once or twice while he looked up at Edley with eyes soon to see this world no more.
Edley face became slightly flushed, his smile returned like when a teacher placed a star on his forehead in grammar school. He shrugged his shoulders as if he just completed a power-press, and after wiping off his knife on the dog’s fur, he stepped back like a faithful does after completing prays to a God in a temple.
He saw some children walking with their parents but now couldn’t take his eyes off the little-ones as they hopped and skipped or looked up at their parents with questions or looked around like explorers in a new and exciting land.
Finally Edley drove home, slowly.
He enticed an eight-year-old boy with a question. After the boy stuck his head through the passenger window of Edley’s car, Edley grabbed the boy’s head with both hands and pulled him through the open window with a strength that fed itself on his sickness of mind. He drove off to an empty warehouse, isolated but not far!
“AHHHHHHHHHHHH,” the little boy screamed.
“Wasn’t that fun. See your skin? We’ll slice off another piece in a moment,” Edley said.
“Please... Mrs please stop...please stop...AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH,” The little boy screamed.
“You’ve been a bad little boy,” Edley said.
“I’ll be good----I promise I’ll be good AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH”
“It’s too late kid--you should have listened to your mother!!” Edley said.
Edley buried the little boy behind his apartment in a ticket. He also threw in all the slices of the little boy’s skin, like fresh bacon to Edley, it seemed.
Edley walked out of the ticket, and his needs started throbbing again for another victim.
A blonde girl’s hair dancing with the wind catch Edley’s eyes. She was about six and leaving an elementary school that Edley was watching for such a victim to emerge. She was perfect, and his well planned-approach should be perfect in getting her to come with him.
“I’m detective Watkinson.” Edely flashed a gold fake badge in front of her eyes. “We got a call from you family asking us to pick you up. There’s are some very bad men around and they are worried about your safety.” Eldey said. Just then her teacher walked out from the school building and said, “Good afternoon Mr. Blasley”
The little girl looked up at Edley and said. “You’re not my father!” Edley quickly replied with “All men in suits look the same to her.” Then he nudged her into the car. Her teacher then said, “Remember, tomorrow is Dress-down day, Britney.”
“Don’t do that!” Britney said. Edley tied her hands behind her back. “I’m going to tell my father on you!”
The coffin built for this purpose loomed in front of Britney eyes. And her eyes grew in size as Eldley carried her towards it. “AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH please don’t! Please! please...”
Britney’s screamed became muffled after Edley sealed the lid with screws driven in with a battery-powered screwdriver. But Edley’s ears didn’t notice the difference as he screwed in one then another, then another, then....
Once the coffin was covered, Edley stepped into his living room and zoomed in on Britney. Two spy-type cameras and a light source had been molded into the coffin, and now Edley could watch the final moments of Britney’s life.
But the images were blurred as Britney squirmed, and the only sounds were his thoughts, and in less the three minutes she was dead. He had been cheated, cheated by a twist of his planning. The next time a bigger coffin, better cameras with sound and maybe speakers so he could talk as his victim suffocated, slowly. Yes, better planning.
Sketches of Edley were on the news. He hurriedly packed-up and moved about fifty miles out of town.
But gnawing in his stomach for more sent him back into town, looking. And before long another opportunity had opened up itself to him.
A game of touch football caught Edley’s eyes. He stopped the car. Watched for a few minutes then darted into the lot and stopped.
He got out, flashed his detective badge, grabbed one of the boys and said, “You are under arrested for trespassing.”
“What’s your name?” Edley said.
“David Bunhan” the boy answered.
Edley pushed David into his car and drove off.
Edley entered a junkyard and stopped. Nobody was around. He pulled out his pocketknife, opened up the bladed and showed it to David.
David was smiling. Before Edley could ask why, a sharp and goring pain filled him up from stomach to chest, seizing him into immobility.
Edley looked down and saw an old style switch-blade handle being twisted at his stomach by David’s hand.
He looked into David's clear and joyous eyes as David declared without a quiver in his voice. “You got a mighty small knife there, buddy!”
Tesla Lives!!!
re-write of "Albino Alligator"
Much creativity shows in this re-write of “Albino Alligator.” The essence of friendship and loyalty remained and the cruel world of a swamp was transformed into corporate politics where greed, corruption, white-collar-crime, and economic survival are the norm.
The original power struggle and theme is very evident, and what I really like is the symbolism of the camera. The snake in my original story is now symbolized by the use of a camera! An attack from above!! Nice abstraction! Very nice!
I like how Rapture became powerful in the accounting field! This parallels his rise to maturity in the original story!
Mark, you show great talent in this re-write!! Keep it up!!!
P.S.
Let me knew it you did, in fact, symbolize “Springs” with the use of a camera.
The original power struggle and theme is very evident, and what I really like is the symbolism of the camera. The snake in my original story is now symbolized by the use of a camera! An attack from above!! Nice abstraction! Very nice!
I like how Rapture became powerful in the accounting field! This parallels his rise to maturity in the original story!
Mark, you show great talent in this re-write!! Keep it up!!!
P.S.
Let me knew it you did, in fact, symbolize “Springs” with the use of a camera.
Tesla Lives!!!