A to Z: Beginnings A

Welcome to April, where daily blogging becomes the challenge. For me, who has a hard time doing even post a week lately, this really will be challenging.

THEME: Short Stories - at least the beginnings thereof.
YOUR PART: Throw out words from the letter of the day and I'll pick some of them to include in the opening paragraphs of a short story.
WHY: I'm most inspired when there's a little challenge involved. Usually that means an opening line or a theme. This month: your words.

Each day I'll post the beginnings of a short story using some of the suggested words, As to when I'll end those stories...well, that's what the rest of the year is for.

So join in the comments with A words. names, places, moods, genres, things, whatever you want to throw at me. My creative bucket awaits.

Looking for more great blogs? Check out the massive A to Z blog challenge list.

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I only knew Avarice was a girl because her family called her Ava when they thought no one else was listening. With only a fence separating our yards, I probably heard more than I should have from our new neighbors.

Some people named their children after virtues, but the Paris family was different. Avarice had three siblings, Pride, Wrath and Envy. Mrs. Paris had another one on the way. My brother and I had placed bets on which of the remaining sins they would name it. My six dollars was on Gluttony. George was sure it would be Lust. We spent the night before laughing about the sexual ambiguity of their names, trying to come up with nicknames like Ava for the others, but ended up with only snorts and bellyaches for our efforts.

The whole family was bald and wore robes so that it was impossible to tell which were boys or girls. None of them wore makeup or earrings and their robes when to the floor so we couldn’t even use shoes as a clue. They came to school on Friday, but none of the kids talked. Not when the teachers spoke to them, not at lunch, not even to one another on the bus ride home. They only place I heard their voices was in the back yard.

As I sat there in the grass with my ear not quite pressed against the nine foot tall wooden blockade of a fence, trying to catch snippets of whispers, the last thing I expected a rope to come flying over the fence to thwack me in the head. I didn’t exactly expect Ava abseiling down into my yard either. She put her finger to her lips and smiled.