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Thread: Write the start of a novel...

  1. #626
    Do I have to? BryanT's Avatar
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    Quote Originally Posted by b1_ View Post
    ---

    Dawdle
    Lipstick
    Bazaar
    Conch Shell
    Raiment
    "It's time to head to the Bazaar!", George said with glee. It was his favorite thing to do on his days off. It was one of the only things that the entire family was able to do together. "Kids, get yourselves dressed and ready, we leave in ten minutes. I'm going to go see if your grandmother wants anything."

    With some trepidation, George climbed the stairs to his grandmother's bedroom. He knocked on her door, "Mamo? Are you awake?" he called softly half hoping she was still asleep.

    He heard rustling inside the room, "Well, come in already Georgie, Don't dawdle." George rolled his eyes, and sighing opened the door. He was surprised to see her out of bed, and at her dressing table applying lipstick. She looked at him in the mirror, "You didn't think I was going to let you go without me did you?" She stood up to examine herself in the mirror. As she turned, her raiment glittered from the golden thread and small jewels sewn in to it. George was astonished that this woman who had not been out of the house in twenty years was suddenly dressed and anxious to go. As if reading his mind, she said, "Come now son, you didn't think I would let you choose the Conch Shell I need for my next project?"


    random
    justified
    sauce
    search
    impudent

  2. #627
    practical experience, FTW Bloopographer's Avatar
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    random
    justified
    sauce
    search
    impudent


    As late afternoon settled into evening, Jill sped along the narrow highway sandwiched between twin faces of rock, accompanied by her passenger, Jack, a hitchhiker she had picked up some miles back. He was a strange fellow, Jack—not the sort of guy with whom most women would feel at ease to find themselves in confinement. But then, Jill wasn't exactly the sort of woman whose presence most men found tolerable. And she found herself fascinated by him.

    "I think I love you."

    "You do?" Stealing a quick sideways glance, Jill smiled. "Why is that?"

    After a few moments of silence, Jack exhaled loudly. "We-ell," he said, running a fingertip across Jill's bare leg, "it's difficult to say. Various random but easily justified reasons, I suppose. Does it matter?"

    "An impudent response."

    "So it was. Shall I search my, uh, heart for another?"

    "No, no," Jill laughed. "I loved it. More sauce, please."


    competence
    limber
    recitation
    oppose
    empty
    "It doesn't matter why​ they're dressed as a tiger. Have they got my leg?" —Monty Python's The Meaning Of Life

  3. #628
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    competence
    limber
    recitation
    oppose
    empty

    I dislike and oppose your empty recitation and lack of competence in your horribly over limber dancing in Swan Lake.

    Megalomaniac
    cumbersome
    monomaniacal
    reverberate
    gunpowder

  4. #629
    Go down road, go pub. Mary Mitchell's Avatar
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    Megalomaniac
    cumbersome
    monomaniacal
    reverberate
    gunpowder

    The boss was a megalomaniac. As if his successfully orchestrating the lunchtime rush at a fast food restaurant would reverberate down through history. Jane tried to keep her own monomaniacal obsession with killing the guy under control. She maneuvered the cumbersome case of frozen beef patties past him, envisioning putting gunpowder in his cigarettes or shoving his face into the vat of french fry grease.

    Baltic
    ozone
    frigid
    satisfy
    girth
    It's a simple fact of life that not everyone will be your target audience.

  5. #630
    Do I have to? BryanT's Avatar
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    Baltic
    ozone
    frigid
    satisfy
    girth
    "The ozone generators are back online", Dominykas hollered into his radio over the noise of the generators. His thick Baltic accent making it even more difficult to understand him. "I believe this will satisfy my portion of the contract."

    He stepped out of the room, and in to the frigid nighttime temperatures, and limped to his horse. After checking the girth, he mounted and road back towards the barracks.

    Faded
    Leg
    Depressed
    Full
    Excited

  6. #631
    Benefactor Member Nymtoc's Avatar
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    Faded
    Leg
    Depressed
    Full
    Excited

    Ever since that disastrous day on the ski slope, Phil had been depressed. With three fractures in his right leg, he sat there in a stupid wheelchair watching stupid shit on TV, knowing that all his plans for the next six months had faded. He reached for his glass. It was full ten minutes ago, so what had happened? Had he really drunk that much Scotch? Where was Dory, anyway? They had both been so excited about going on that Mediterranean cruise, and now what? Nothing. Nothing but TV and Scotch for the next god-knows-how-many-weeks.

    “Dory!” he called. “Where the fuck are you?”

    No answer. Maybe she had gone shopping. Maybe she was with her girlfriend. Maybe…Damn it all! He wheeled himself over to the liquor cabinet.

    reprobate
    concept
    hirsute
    cannibalize
    dahlia
    Last edited by Nymtoc; 06-15-2017 at 03:03 AM.


    "Ignorance is an evil weed, which dictators may cultivate among their dupes, but which no democracy can afford among its citizens." -- William Beveridge

  7. #632
    Go down road, go pub. Mary Mitchell's Avatar
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    reprobate
    concept
    hirsute
    cannibalize
    dahlia

    She was kneeling in the dahlia bed, watching a hirsute spider cannibalize its mate, when the idea came to her. The concept of hiding a body in the freezer was neither new nor promising when it came to not getting discovered. But if she literally butchered her reprobate husband and stored the individual cuts of meat, the crime stood a good chance of going undetected. She wondered what sort of wine would go best with leg of Larry.

    sophomore
    squelch
    romantic
    legalize
    chilly
    It's a simple fact of life that not everyone will be your target audience.

  8. #633
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    sophomore
    squelch
    romantic
    legalize
    chilly

    Sarah sat back in her chilly, cucumber chair and contemplated the college sophomore sitting in her office. Now that they had decided to legalize romantic daydreams, she was open to napping with him and seeing where it went. No one was more surprised when the squelch of an alarm in her office, told her she had already gone too far.

    Egotistical
    centerboard
    penguin
    Slap
    pertinacious

  9. #634
    Benefactor Member Nymtoc's Avatar
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    Egotistical
    centerboard
    penguin
    Slap
    pertinacious

    Bartholomew Clapworth’s commentary had been a slap in the face: “another example of a simplistic wannabe.” The words still rang in Shemp’s mind. Simplistic wannabe! He wanted to strangle the guy. But why should he torture himself over the opinion of some erratic, irrational, egotistical so-called art critic? Just because Clapworth wrote for a fancy-schmancy magazine didn’t mean diddly. That asshole was so stuck in the past—so pertinacious in his adoration of Caravaggio, of all people—that he might as well have lived a thousand years ago.

    Shemp had gone out on the lake to try to clear his mind. He had pulled up the centerboard in his sailboat, and a warm wind was just strong enough to pull him gently along the surface. He sat back, letting his imagination drift. That large canvas in his studio. He hadn’t known where to start. But now, allowing his view of water and sky to merge in his mind, he began to visualize a boat moving along smoothly and being manned by—a penguin! Why not? What a terrific idea! He grabbed the tiller and headed back to shore.

    bereaved
    manipulate
    kiwi
    surge
    invisible


    "Ignorance is an evil weed, which dictators may cultivate among their dupes, but which no democracy can afford among its citizens." -- William Beveridge

  10. #635
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    bereaved
    manipulate
    kiwi
    surge
    invisible

    The bereaved bowed their kiwi shaped invisible heads as they tried to manipulate the surge of heat coming from the invisible kiwi shaped oven.

    Necrophiliacs
    antimatter
    recrimination
    sublime
    fart

  11. #636
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    Necrophiliacs
    antimatter
    recrimination
    sublime
    fart
    The necrophiliacs gathered at the cemetery closest to the antimatter reactor. They had gathered to complete, what they felt was a sublime act without recrimination. The area had been evacuated as the antimatter reactor would melt down soon.

    They gathered in mock solemnity, until the smell from a fart swept across the gathering.

    scream
    towering
    peep
    tumble
    expect

  12. #637
    Benefactor Member Nymtoc's Avatar
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    Quote Originally Posted by BryanT View Post
    scream
    towering
    peep
    tumble
    expect

    The Fifth Squad had been receiving more and more complaints about the Peep Creep, a man who had been seen peering into women’s windows in South Brainbridge over the past six months. Not only was this sort of thing offensive, it could be highly dangerous. One woman who noticed a face at her window let out a scream that could be heard a block away.

    Since the activity seemed to be increasing lately, Ben Allford, who was leading the investigation, had come to expect another incident about every three nights. Last week, a long-time Bainbridge denizen gave him a tumble: There was a chance the peeper worked for the Department of Sanitation, since the incidents often took place about the time garbage was being picked up in the immediate area.

    Towering over the whole ugly thing was the fear that the peeper would escalate. Everybody in South Bainbridge remembered a case from seven years ago, when three sorority sisters complained about a peeping Tom and were paid scant attention by the authorities. Three weeks later, they were found murdered in their beds.

    devaluate
    broom
    rinse
    carpal
    thyme


    "Ignorance is an evil weed, which dictators may cultivate among their dupes, but which no democracy can afford among its citizens." -- William Beveridge

  13. #638
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    devaluate
    broom
    rinse
    carpal
    thyme

    The witch rode in on her thyme scented broom and before she could rinse off her carpal inflected wrist she had to consider whether to devaluate her worth.

    Hippo
    monkey
    spam
    geek
    poodle

  14. #639
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    hippo
    monkey
    spam
    geek
    poodle


    It was midnight—12:21, to be exact—and Jill was sitting in the kitchen of her home, sipping a cup of coffee, while her neighbour, Jack, fiddled in the basement. Her electricity had been flickering a lot lately and Jack, being a great guy as well as a geek, had offered to take a look-see.

    Half-asleep and gaining by the minute, Jill's boredom was interrupted by the sound of footsteps in the foyer, moving down the hallway and into the dining room. It wasn't Jack—unless, playing the monkey, he'd climbed through one of the basement windows and re-entered the house through the front door. No, it was someone else. An intruder.

    Abandoning her coffee, Jill went to confront her uninvited guest, but as she stepped through the doorway, the lights went out. "Um... Hey there, home invader," she called into the dark room. "Er, I guess the power's out." Silence. "Anyway, I'm sure it will come as no surprise when I say you're not welcome here. And I was rather hoping to see you out. Unfortunately, well, I can't see you at all." Jill paused. "Hey, ever play Marco Polo? It's a fun game. If you'd prefer, you can whistle a catchy tune, or, better, state your full name and address so I can pass it along to the local authorities, whom I'll be calling just as soon as—"

    A crash sounded from the basement, followed by Jack's distant shout: "I could use some f-ing help down here!"

    "Oops," said Jill. "Pardon me, home invader. It appears my neighbour—who, by the way, had the decency to ring the doorbell and wait to be invited into my home—is in need of some assistance. I ask that you please wait here until I return to tackle you. In the meantime, you may wish to scavenge any items you may find in the vicinity which could serve to protect you from serious harm. I fully intend to come at you with all ferocity."

    After retrieving a flashlight, Jill approached the basement door and shone the beam on the staircase. "What happened? Are you all right?"

    "Yes, I'm fine," replied Jack, as he limped into the kitchen. "I fell down the stairs."

    "I assume you shut the power off?"

    "In a way," Jack shrugged. "The wiring in this house is in a rather advanced state of disrepair. And I think the breeze created by my movement shifted the cables enough to sever the connection."

    "They snapped?"

    "Long ago. As unbelievable as this may sound, none of the cables were actually attached to the service panel."

    "Then how was the power on at all?" asked Jill.

    "Ah... There was a lot of electricity jumping around down there. The whole area's scorched."

    "Oh my. But the system's repairable?"

    Jack shook his head. "I'd prefer to use the term 'replaceable'. You're probably going to want to rewire the entire house. Everything I could see was original. Experimental, even. Hippo tusks, poodle fur, spam tins and the like." He paused. "I'd suggest selling, but it might be difficult to find someone willing to purchase this house in its present condition."

    "I did."

    "Indeed. You're exceptionally ignorant."

    "Mm. Thanks. I appreciate your candour," said Jill as she escorted Jack to the front door. "And thanks for your help. You may very well have saved my life."

    "Well, I am a hero," said Jack. "Good night."

    "Good night, Jack." Jill shut the door and started back to the kitchen. As she passed the dining room, she remembered the mysterious intruder. "Now, I hope—" she began as she entered the room just as the flashlight expired. "Oh. I'm out of battery." Silence. "If you'll excuse me for a moment, I'll fetch a candle."

    After retrieving a candle, Jill returned to the dining room. "Okay, we've got an open flame in the room, so be mindful of that as you struggle, because if you cause my house to catch fire, I, er..." She trailed off as she saw the dining room was empty. "Strange," she mused. "I would swear the footfalls I heard sounded heavier than those of a chicken."


    clamour
    drop
    inflated
    enthusiasm
    travelling
    "It doesn't matter why​ they're dressed as a tiger. Have they got my leg?" —Monty Python's The Meaning Of Life

  15. #640
    Go down road, go pub. Mary Mitchell's Avatar
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    clamour
    drop
    inflated
    enthusiasm
    travelling

    The clamour in the departure lounge began to drop, along with the enthusiasm for travelling, as the would-be passengers accepted the inevitability of spending the night in the airport. The blizzard had roads as well as runways socked in. But one man in particular had good reason for an inflated level of anxiety. The bomb now in the bowels of the baggage handling area was on a timer.

    carousel
    bell
    Edam
    fortitude
    blanketing
    It's a simple fact of life that not everyone will be your target audience.

  16. #641
    Benefactor Member Nymtoc's Avatar
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    carousel
    bell
    Edam
    fortitude
    blanketing

    James knew he had to lose weight, yet he couldn’t stop munching. An hour ago it was pizza, and now it was a huge slice of Edam. Chewing the cheese, he wondered if he was actually going to be able to play the role of Billy Bigelow in “Carousel.” The fictional Billy was young and muscular, and the actor James had put on a belly so big that even a girdle couldn’t conceal it. When he agreed to do the role three months ago, he barely managed to look fit, but since then he must have gained thirty pounds.

    He had set the alarm, and now the jangling bell reminded him that it was time to set out for the theater for the first rehearsal. How would people react when they saw him? Did he have the fortitude to go through what might be a complete humiliation? Blanketing everything was his knowledge that this was all his fault. He could have exerted control over his appetite. He didn’t have to snack all the time on pizza, did he? Or cheese, chocolate, ice cream, cake, cookies, peanuts, popcorn and so much more. But his determination to reform had gone down the toilet, and so—he feared—had his career.

    refulgent
    tatters
    teapot
    seminal
    disavow


    "Ignorance is an evil weed, which dictators may cultivate among their dupes, but which no democracy can afford among its citizens." -- William Beveridge

  17. #642
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    refulgent
    tatters
    teapot
    seminal
    disavow


    The high-pitched veeeeeeep of an opening zipper brought Jill into sluggish consciousness. Behind her, she heard the rustle of thin, nylon fabric followed by a second veeeeeeep. Then more rustling. And another veeeeeeep.

    Rolling over, she saw a dark form crouched at the side of the tent. Her boyfriend, Jack. "What are you doing?"

    "Gotta take a whiz," he mumbled, running his hands blindly along the tent wall.

    "That's the window."

    Veeeeeeep. Rustle.

    "That's the window, Jack."

    "Unh?" A pause. Rustling. "No, s'not." Rustling.

    Groaning inwardly, Jill realized the source of Jack's confusion: The tent door had a zipper. He was using a zipper. Therefore, he was at the tent door. But what he really was was drunk.

    Veeeeeeep.

    And he'd reduce the tent to tatters before he figured it out.

    Jill sighed and sat up. Turning the lantern on, she unzipped the door, folding it back to give Jack a clear, refulgent view of the exit. "Here." Here, boy. This way, Jack.

    His gaze drifted toward her, focusing in a series of stuporous blinks. "I know s'window. Know all about it," he disavowed. "I was jush—whadju do with'th'teapot?"

    After a brief feigned search for the elusive teapot, Jack crawled over and stumbled out the doorway. Jill let the tent flap fall but didn't bother closing it. Chances were, she'd have to help him back in, too.

    Frustration began to build as Jill thought about the situation she was in—including, of course, the seminal event that had effectively served as a condemnation. They'd been dating for more than three years, but it was only in the last few weeks Jack had started drinking to excess. And when he did... Well, he was like a child. One Jill was forced to care for. Which was the last thing she needed. Because two months ago, she had found out she was pregnant.


    overheard
    imposition
    wax
    materialize
    midst
    "It doesn't matter why​ they're dressed as a tiger. Have they got my leg?" —Monty Python's The Meaning Of Life

  18. #643
    Go down road, go pub. Mary Mitchell's Avatar
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    overheard
    imposition
    wax
    materialize
    midst


    "Forgive the imposition--I apologize for breaking into the midst of your conversation, but I overheard you discussing the proposed use of wax moth larvae to digest plastic waste. Unfortunately, the solutions to the problems we ourselves create don't materialize quite that simply. For one thing, the larvae break the plastic down into poisonous ethylene glycol--something else we'd have to deal with. And their natural food is beeswax. Can you imagine the hive devastation if masses of the adult moths escaped into the world?"

    The three young women turned and started walking away. One of them looked over her shoulder to make sure they weren't being followed. Another muttered, "Probably a bloody PETA activist. Gets her jollies pitching red paint at fur coats."

    benevolent
    crude
    moderately
    jump
    seized
    It's a simple fact of life that not everyone will be your target audience.

  19. #644
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    benevolent
    crude
    moderately
    jump
    seized


    Jack and Jill left the arena, hand in hand, and began the long trek through the parking lot in search of their car. "That was, without a doubt, the loudest concert ever!" shouted Jack.

    "Sure was," Jill agreed. "Nary a doubt. The whole of Russia heard it."

    "Well, of course." Jack pointed a finger toward the perfectly level, car studded horizon. "The whole of Russia's just across the way, on the other side of this parking lot. I mean this is, without a doubt, the biggest strip of asphalt in the known universe."

    "I read somewhere the world's supply of sand was seized for use in its construction."

    "Believe it. Every grain of sand that has ever existed is right here, beneath our feet."

    "How exciting!" Jill gave Jack's hand a squeeze. "It's like the coolest beach on the planet."

    "Of all time," added Jack. "You hungry?"

    "I've never been hungrier. My stomach has eaten itself as well as my bladder and is now eyeballing the rest of my innards." Jill frowned.

    Jack gave her a crude wink. "Aw, you may be a complete mess on the inside, but you're still the prettiest girl who's ever lived."

    "That was literally the nicest thing anyone has ever said, ever."

    "Whoa." Jack sidestepped to avoid a car inching out of a parking spot. "That guy almost mowed me down!" he complained, looking over his shoulder with a scowl. "Damn."

    "Eyes glued to the dashcam," Jill observed. "Crazy! Are you okay?"

    "It's too early to tell. But I know one thing for sure. I've definitely been at least moderately traumatized. For life." He paused. "Indeed, I now realize I'll never truly get over this incident. Every single time I approach the nose of a parked car, my survival instincts will kick in and I'll ready myself to jump out of the way at the slightest hint of movement."

    "Like a warrior." Jill's eyes grew wide. "The strongest and bravest—if not the most benevolent—of men!"

    "Kinda like that, yeah, I guess," said Jack, blushing. "So, uh..."

    "Why Jack, is that embarrassment I sense?" Jill teased.

    "I've never been more embarrassed in my life," admitted Jack. "But I'm over it now. Ah. Here's the car, right where we left it."


    mush
    restructure
    open-ended
    popularize
    height
    "It doesn't matter why​ they're dressed as a tiger. Have they got my leg?" —Monty Python's The Meaning Of Life

  20. #645
    Benefactor Member Nymtoc's Avatar
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    mush
    restructure
    open-ended
    popularize
    height

    After the recent elections, everyone knew it was imperative to restructure the party. But not everyone agreed on how to do it. Old Senator Snigglesworthy, for one, thought the party’s young Turks wanted to give people far too much. Speaking in his usual mush-mouth style, he said, “Gentlemen, we cannot offer the public an open-ended cornucopia of benefits, which is the sort of thing that has brought political parties down in the past, thanks to their stupidity and their failure to keep up with changing times. If we offered this cornucopia, as I call it, the people would stop working, secure in the knowledge that everything was provided for them whether they put their noses to the grindstone or not, and as a consequence they would soon become weak-willed nothings!”

    Senator Picklepox took a different approach. “We’ve got to popularize this party!” she said. “We’re looked at as a bunch of old fogies! We have to show voters that we’re living in 2017, not 1917! Yes, we should guarantee entitlements, but we must get on board with the new economy now! Out with crankshafts! In with atomic digital media!”

    Senator Simple decided it would be the height of idiocy to argue against all that logorrhea and went out for a drink.

    cram
    decentralize
    firefly
    subdural
    autogyro


    "Ignorance is an evil weed, which dictators may cultivate among their dupes, but which no democracy can afford among its citizens." -- William Beveridge

  21. #646
    New Fish; Learning About Thick Skin panko's Avatar
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    Susan told the man on the street corner to cram it. She frankly didn't care about trying to decentralize the government. However, when the man started to rant angrily about a firefly that wouldn't leave him alone, she realized something was wrong.

    Susan's demeanor changed in an instant. Gone was the casual woman walking towards the bus stop and in stepped THE NURSE, as she liked to think of herself. Sitting down her bags, she tried to calm the man and look closer into his eyes. As she feared, one pupil was wide open, the other closed tight. Although she couldn't know exactly what had happened, she knew that he had probably sustained a head injury. Perhaps he had a subdural hematoma. With a calm voice, she convinced the man to sit down on a nearby bench and phoned for an ambulance.

    Luckily for the man, the hospital wasn't far away and she could hear the wail of the sirens approaching shortly after. It took scant minutes for the man to be loaded up by the EMTs.

    "Are you taking me to my autogyro lessons, Mom?" The man asked, looking at her one last time before the doors were closed on the vehicle. Susan sighed and visibly relaxed, she was herself again and prayed a quick prayer for the man whose name she had never learned.


    Boring
    tour
    vapid
    bear
    sundried
    Last edited by panko; 06-25-2017 at 08:05 PM.

  22. #647
    practical experience, FTW Bloopographer's Avatar
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    boring
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    bear
    sundried


    Seated in her four-foot cubicle, Jill paused a moment to regroup before taking the next call. She was exhausted. She'd been working steadily for six hours without so much as a coffee break, alongside hundreds of others—in this one branch alone—and, although she and her co-workers were trained for maximum efficiency, the number of incoming calls only increased. At the moment, more than twenty-one million people were waiting on the lines. Twenty-one million souls, desperate for help.

    Jill pressed on. "911, what's your emergency?"

    The weak but clearly frightened voice that answered was male. "I think I'm bleeding to death. It—it's just pouring out. I feel dizzy and faint and tired."

    "Okay, it sounds like you've been injured, sir. Can you describe the nature of your injury? Where is the blood coming from?"

    "Everywhere. All over. From my skin. I'm completely soaked. It's stinging my eyes, I can taste it, my clothes are ruined—"

    "The blood is pouring from your skin, sir? What colour is it?"

    "Colour? Um... Invisible."

    "Invisible. Okay. Sir, have you exerted yourself in any way recently? Lifted a heavy object or taken a sightseeing tour or anything like that?"

    "No-o, I don't think so. Wait. Yes, I saw a bear the other day."

    "Ah. Okay. Sir, you're sweating. You have to replenish your fluids immediately. Do you have anything to drink?"

    "No, nothing. Just water."

    "Okay. Sit tight, sir. A deliveryman has been dispatched to your location." Before the man could respond, Jill moved on to the next call. "911, what's your emergency?"

    "I'd like to report a disaster." The female voice spoke with the vapid calm of a person deep in shock.

    "What kind of disaster, ma'am?"

    A full three seconds passed before she replied. "Apocalyptic."

    "Okay. Can you provide a little more detail? What's happening? What do you see?"

    "I don't know!" the woman cried, suddenly hysterical, "I can't see anything! But I can smell it. It's thick in the air, boring into my lungs!"

    "What is it you smell, ma'am? Smoke? Ozone?"

    "Worse than that. Worse than anything! It's awful! Beyond awful! Like every living thing on the planet has died! In a swamp! A sunlit swamp. It smells like improperly sundried garbage!" The woman paused to catch her breath and promptly gagged. "Oh, god! I can hardly breathe."

    Listening to the woman's description, Jill's heart skipped a few beats. She knew exactly what had happened. It was the Big One, the event for which every emergency operator received three weeks intensive training, the event which, while not particularly dangerous in itself, was so repulsive it had the potential to effectively doom the human species to extinction should knowledge of its occurrence spread to the public: a girl fart. Jill hit the alarm.


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    "It doesn't matter why​ they're dressed as a tiger. Have they got my leg?" —Monty Python's The Meaning Of Life

  23. #648
    Go down road, go pub. Mary Mitchell's Avatar
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    Edgar watched the thick flakes accumulate, putting an end to the brief false spring. Winter was his closer kin these days. Bleak gray skies blending with the interminable expanse of featureless white that buried everything. Just as he felt buried. He found this static state was curiously peaceful. Unlike the turmoil he would experience if he were to permit the reality of his situation to surface.

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    It's a simple fact of life that not everyone will be your target audience.

  24. #649
    Benefactor Member Nymtoc's Avatar
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    What a pleasant day! Cynthia loved to walk in the country, and now she was walking through a yellow-green field redolent of wild flowers. She felt a mild breeze. Everything was perfect.

    To her surprise, she saw a piece of metal foil someone had dropped—incongruous in this beautiful setting. She picked it up and would dispose of it later. She walked on, but after nearly another hour, she began to feel tired and turned toward a dirt road that led back to the village.

    The wind was increasing surprisingly fast, so she was glad when a truck pulled up beside her. It looked kind of run down and had “Mort's Transport” painted on the side. A male voice said, “Hop in.” Glimpsing the driver’s black hooded jacket, she got in the right side and closed the door.

    A little conversation wouldn’t hurt, so she said the obvious: “Where are you headed?”

    There was no answer, so she asked the question again. There was still no answer. She leaned to get a better look at the driver, and her voice caught in her throat. There was no one behind the wheel. There was only a black hoodie! The truck was speeding up now, going 50 miles an hour, then 60, 70, 80, 90, and its speed jolted her from side to side. Her heart was pounding, and she felt as if she were trapped in the blustery winds of a hurricane. She was overwhelmed with panic. She screamed.



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    Last edited by Nymtoc; 06-30-2017 at 06:54 PM.


    "Ignorance is an evil weed, which dictators may cultivate among their dupes, but which no democracy can afford among its citizens." -- William Beveridge

  25. #650
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    Jack had had a bad week. A hellish week, really. And this being only Friday, it should probably instead be said he was having a hellish week. Indeed, he had no reason to believe it would end at any point in the foreseeable future. The hell, that is, rather than the week, which would obviously end come Saturday evening. But the hell... Hell, with one thing and another, he hadn't had the chance to form a single whiny, indignant thought—even a simple Why me?!—let alone review the chain of events which secured his damnable position.

    It began at the library. Jack had been researching for a project about super-secret societies when a fragment of paper had fallen out of the book he'd been reading. The scrap, which had been torn from a Tolstoy novel, had one word circled: Gott. Naturally, he'd followed the surreptitious clue where it led and had been surprised to find himself in his own apartment—after regaining consciousness.

    Actually, he'd spent a good part of the week unconscious, always waking to find his foggy self in some dire situation. On Tuesday, for instance, someone or someones had knocked him out and tied him to a railroad track. Luckily, they'd used a roll of flimsy construction tape and Jack had been able to easily break free hours before the next train was due. It was almost as if their intentions were to frighten Jack, not murder him.

    Until Wednesday, at least, when they'd murdered him. Fortunately, though, his spirit had remained, and having seen every movie ever made, Jack had learned how to resurrect himself using a car battery and a set of jumper cables. Which, of course, he'd done.

    And the nightmare had continued. He'd been mugged, followed, evicted, framed. His apartment had been ransacked and later set on fire. His power had been cut, his brakes had been cut. A container filled with white powder—presumably drugs—and a heck of a lot of cash—presumably illegally obtained—had been planted in the trunk of his car. He'd almost maybe been bitten by a possibly poisonous snake which had slithered up his gaiters while he was waiting at a local park for a friend to arrive—a friend who had somehow replaced the money in his wallet with a sinister cut-and-paste note reading: MeET me aT tHe PArK—signED, a frieNd.

    A friend. Clearly, a so-called friend of Jack's was involved. While he'd watched the firemen battle the blaze at his apartment, he'd overheard someone say they'd overheard that a friend of the occupant had been arrested for arson. And it was a friend of Jack's who, less than a week ago, had suggested he read, thoroughly, the book in which he'd found the enticing clue.

    He didn't understand what was going on. Or for what purpose. Or— Why me?! Jack thought as he entered the lobby of his apartment building. And what next?

    What next? was a most appropriate question, Jack discovered, noticing the automated fortune teller that had been installed, at some point during the day, next to the elevators. He inserted a couple of coins and plucked from the machine the card it spit out. The answers you seek may be found at the library, it read.

    Excellent. Jack turned from the elevators and rushed to the library.

    Upon entering, he was immediately dazzled by the beam of a spotlight centered on him. To the left, a camera captured his astonished reaction while a projector displayed on the back wall a silent montage of the various expressions Jack's face had formed in recent days. Farther back, a large group of people sat on folding chairs, hushed but excited, staring at him expectantly. The library had been transformed into a set. Microphone in hand, the grinning host approached Jack. "Surprise!" he said. "You've been a participant on the hit reality show Scare My Friend!"

    Jack blinked. "But... You trashed my apartment! You robbed and beat me! You had me thrown in jail! You put me in the path of an oncoming train! I could have been killed!! I was killed!!!"

    The host gave Jack a flirty wink. "Yeah. Bet you were pretty scared, eh?"


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    "It doesn't matter why​ they're dressed as a tiger. Have they got my leg?" —Monty Python's The Meaning Of Life

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