A to Z: Beginnings Z

We've reached the end! Hooray!

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 evening 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 Z words. names, places, moods, genres, things, whatever you want to throw at me. My creative bucket awaits. If you're here later in the day and I've already posted the story start, feel free to leave words for the next day's letter.

~*~

Hank backed away from the lion. "A little help here, Stanley?"

"You're the one who wanted to be zoologist," said Stanley as he also made his way to the door of the enclosure. "You're supposed to know lions, right?"

"I read about them. I've never actually been this close to one."

"You might have mentioned that before we broke into the zoo."

The lion stalked forward, it's head low and eyes intent.

"Maybe it wants something to eat."

"I don't think the lion cares about the zucchini I stole from the vegetable stand on the way over. I told you, I got that for my mother."

Stanley laughed nervously, "You've told me zillions of things, like that you knew all about lions. You zany loser, you're going to get us both killed."

The lion sprang.

A to Z: Beginnings Y

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 evening 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 Y words. names, places, moods, genres, things, whatever you want to throw at me. My creative bucket awaits. If you're here later in the day and I've already posted the story start, feel free to leave words for the next day's letter.

~*~

Tamara pulled her yellow cloak tighter as she huddled in the field of yarrow. The distant yell of the yeti echoed through the surrounding mountains. Moments later the yodel of a female answered. Only the most daring of the gatherers dared ventured into the fields during mating season and Tarmara was determined to be counted as one of them.

A to Z: Beginnings X

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 evening 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 X words. names, places, moods, genres, things, whatever you want to throw at me. My creative bucket awaits. If you're here later in the day and I've already posted the story start, feel free to leave words for the next day's letter.

~*~

"I'm sorry, Xerxes, but the X-Ray doesn't look good." The doctor pointed to the dark pots on his leg bones. "We're going to have to amputate before it spreads."

"You can't do that! He needs legs. Everyone needs legs," Xerxes' mother said in a shrill voice that sent more chills down his spine than the doctor's announcement had. "You'll find a way to fix it."

"Ma'am, there's nothing be to be gained by emulating Xanthippe," said the doctor.

Xerxe's mother scowled. "What did you call me?"

"Clearly you're not a fan of Socrates." He consulted the medical files on his computer. "When I was in college, I studied Socrates and medicine. See, I went to school for this sort of thing." He pointed at the x-ray. "I know what I'm doing. And I know that not amputating his legs now, will mean the death of him."

"But he has to finish reconstructing the xebec for the exhibition next month. If he doesn't finish, he'll lose his funding. The museum won't have the focal piece we need and the exhibition will be a disaster. That disaster will cost me my job." 

She stood up to her full six foot two height and glared down her long slender nose at the doctor. "You'll find another way, and you'll get him back to work by Monday. Do I make myself clear?"

A to Z: Beginnings W

After a very productive weekend with around the house work - as in I'm still moving stuff from the garage and shed at our old house to the new one, yes, two months after moving out, and we still have a ton of stuff there to move - I'm still playing catch up on story starts and visiting blogs. If I haven't been over to visit yet, I promise I will very soon.

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 evening 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 W words. names, places, moods, genres, things, whatever you want to throw at me. My creative bucket awaits. If you're here later in the day and I've already posted the story start, feel free to leave words for the next day's letter.

~*~

As a wizard, Wilbur was used to wandering, keeping out of reach of those who didn't appreciate his gifts and seeking out those who did. On this particular morning, he found himself before a river, watching a family of ducks waddle into the water. The unseasonably warm weather left him feeling like a leaf of wilting lettuce, but dipping his bare feet into the water offered welcome relief. A leaf caught in the current spun around his feet like a whirligig.

He stroked his long white beard and evaluated the land. The villagers nearby had planted an abundance of wheat. The river had enough of a current to support a water wheel. With his wealth of wisdom, he could help them build a mill. They would thank him and welcome him and maybe he could finally settle down. He might finally escape the whammy Harold had put on him forty-three years ago.

A stone hit him in the head. Then another. "Get out of here," a man yelled. More stones pelted him.

There seemed to be no escape from Harold.

A to Z: Beginnings V

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 evening 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 V words. names, places, moods, genres, things, whatever you want to throw at me. My creative bucket awaits. If you're here later in the day and I've already posted the story start, feel free to leave words for the next day's letter.

~*~

Violet stared into the mirror, making faces at the ashen-faced girl with narrow green eyes. Some might have accused her vanity, sitting in front of the mirror for hours as she often did, but that wasn't it at all. The only way to prevent the violence the girl in the mirror promised to reek upon the earth, was to watch her, to make sure she remained visible. It was the times when she couldn't be seen that bad things happened.

Why didn't her parents understand that the days spent at school, the two hours a week they dragged her off to piano practice, even the minutes they demanded she spend doing her chores, those cost lives. The girl in the mirror didn't have any of those obligations. As far as Violent knew, she didn't even have parents.

Her mother yelled something from downstairs. The girl's eyes narrowed even further, glinting with malice as she waved Violet away. Violet turned up the volume on her music and blinked only one eye at a time, always keeping the girl in view.

A to Z: Beginnings U

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 evening 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 U words. names, places, moods, genres, things, whatever you want to throw at me. My creative bucket awaits. If you're here later in the day and I've already posted the story start, feel free to leave words for the next day's letter.

~*~

He stood beside the black swirling stream, watching the wooden boat and its lone robed skeletal passenger drift away. The blood gushing from the gaping hole in his stomach had ceased, a fact for which he was most grateful. He'd never been good around blood. The first glance of it splashing over the ax that had embedded itself in his gut had made him queasy. The manic grin on the face of the wielder of the ax had finished him off. The war was lost.

Without a prince, the kingdom would fall into madness. There would be no hope for unification with the south. His destiny in the living world unfulfilled, the prince tucked his intestines back inside his uniform and traveled downward along the well worn path to see what death might have in store for him.

A to Z: Beginnings T

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 evening 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 T words. names, places, moods, genres, things, whatever you want to throw at me. My creative bucket awaits. If you're here later in the day and I've already posted the story start, feel free to leave words for the next day's letter.

~*~

The totem bearing a likeness to a tarantula fell into her hands. A shudder ran though her body, settling in her stomach like a swarm of bees. Of all the spirit guides to choose from in the basket, why this one? The rest of the acolytes in the circle stared at her, their eyes wide, hands wrapped around the safe totems that had chosen them.

"Treason," said the priest in the middle of the circle. He pointed at her.

Ringing filled her ears and the cave grew black around the edges as if the candles lodged on the ledges had suddenly lost their will to shine.

The circle began to collapse, everyone reaching for her. She ran. Ran out of the cave, past the tents they has slept in the night before. Past the tree where the goat they had sacrificed that morning still hung. Past the two standing stones that marked the sacred place they'd come to discover who they would be. And all the while, clutched in her hand was the totem.

A to Z: Beginnings S

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 evening 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 S words. names, places, moods, genres, things, whatever you want to throw at me. My creative bucket awaits. If you're here later in the day and I've already posted the story start, feel free to leave words for the next day's letter.

~*~

Silence blanketed the sunny seashore wrapping Norma in a relaxing trance that had nearly sucked her into sleep when a scream shattered the moment. She spun around, searching for the woman who had made such a heart-wrenching sound. The body caught her attention before she found the source of the scream. A man, face down in the water, wearing a seersucker suit.

She leapt to her feet. The burning sand reminded her to slip on her sandals before she raced down to the water's edge. Others came running as well, and within seconds, the body was surrounded. A woman wearing a saffron sundress pushed her way through the crowd.

A to Z: Beginnings R

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 evening 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 R words. names, places, moods, genres, things, whatever you want to throw at me. My creative bucket awaits. If you're here later in the day and I've already posted the story start, feel free to leave words for the next day's letter.

~*~

A thorn ripped into Rachel's finger. She dropped the pruning shears and sucked on the blood, partly to keep three-year old Annie from seeing the blood, but mostly to keep the child from hearing the long string of obscenities begging to fly off her tongue. Damn recalcitrant roses.

She set the red bloom she'd just snipped into her bucket and checked her finger. It was still bleeding. Wrapping it in a tissue from her pocket, she picked up her shears.

"What's that one called?" Annie asked, peering at the lone red bloom in the bucket filled with pink and white.

"Rambling Ribald. Do you remember helping me plant it last summer?"

Annie shook her strawberry-blonde curls. Rachel hoped they stayed that way forever. She looked like a little doll, so adorable.

"Did you get hurt, mommy?" She pointed a chubby finger at the tissue.

"Just a pick. It will be fine." A wet warmth running down her hand begged to differ. She dropped the soaked tissue. Her finger was covered in what looked like rust.

A to Z: Beginnings Q

Are we to the end of the month yet? No? Ahhhhhh! Too. Much. Going. On.

After a couple way too busy work weeks, I'm hoping things are getting back to "normal" a little more, and I'll get be able to squeak some more time in for staying on top of my daily story posts and writing in general because I have a short due at the end of the month for submission and another on begging for my attention.

While we're all being busy and you're pretending to not notice that I'm probably still behind on visiting your blog and posting stories from last week, how about taking a little trip over to this week's Author's Answer, were we have a pretty much hands down answer about brushing up on grammar.

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 evening 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 Q words. names, places, moods, genres, things, whatever you want to throw at me. My creative bucket awaits. If you're here later in the day and I've already posted the story start, feel free to leave words for the next day's letter.


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

~*~

Anna studied her canvas. The paint wasn't cooperating with her quixotic vision of the quail before her. Sure, the bird looked pretty on the screen, but it wasn't the right colors to go with what she'd seen in her dreams. Somehow, she had to meld her imagination with the reality of what the Google search had served her.

Some of the images where of low quality and would be of no use. Others were questionable. She looked through them again and choose one that best suited the pose she'd started with, but in this one, the bird was looking straight at her. Like it could see her. The more she met it's gaze the more she was convinced it could see her. A breeze blew through its feathers. It's beak opened. 

A to Z: Beginnings P

Thank you to everyone who has stopped by to leave words for me so far this month. I've had a great time trying to work as many of them in as possible.

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 evening 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 P words. names, places, moods, genres, things, whatever you want to throw at me. My creative bucket awaits. If you're here later in the day and I've already posted the story start, feel free to leave words for the next day's letter.

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

~*~

The cursor sat there, blinking endlessly while Patrick perused his notes on particle acceleration. He wished he could be on his personal computer, but the power was out. Everywhere. The only computers up and running on campus where in the basement lab which were old laptops with giant heavy batteries. There were only two hours of battery life left and his paper was due in the morning.

A to Z: Beginnings O

Thank you to everyone who has stopped by to leave words for me so far this month. I've had a great time trying to work as many of them in as possible.

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 evening 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 O words. names, places, moods, genres, things, whatever you want to throw at me. My creative bucket awaits. If you're here later in the day and I've already posted the story start, feel free to leave words for the next day's letter.

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

~*~

An orangutan sat on a branch next to a stream, peering down at the strange creature in the water below.  It swam about on its back, on its belly and in spirals. When the crazy creature finally slowed on the surface floating on its back, he called down to it. "What are you?"

"Hello there. I'm an otter."

"OMG, I've never seen one of your kind before in all my travels."

The otter cocked his furry head. "You must be occidental."

"What gave me away?"

"The 'Western is the bestern' shirt you're wearing."

The orangutan scowled at his shirt. "Forgot I had that on. Surprised you can read it down there. It was a gift from Orea."

"Who?"

"The Ontario Real Estate Agency. Stopped by Canada before I got here."

"Ah.  I thought you might be into oology, because you were hanging out in the tree. There are a lot of birds in the area. They like the water. I'm sure there must be some nests nearby."

"No. I'm an orthodontist." The orangutan smiled, showing off his perfect white teeth.

"I heard your kind are expensive. I suppose that's how you could afford this trip?"

"Expensive? Why, that's an outrage. My prices are fair."

"Sorry, must be getting you confused with dentists." The otter smiled apologetically.

"Nice teeth."

"Thanks. I eat a lot of onions."

"That helps?"

"No idea. Someone keeps throwing them in upstream and I keep finding them."

A to Z: Beginnings N

Thank you to everyone who has stopped by to leave words for me so far this month. I've had a great time trying to work as many of them in as possible.

My short story, The Spell, was been published on Saturday Night Reader last week. This is free to read so I hope you stop by and enjoy this fun little tale.

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 evening 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 N words. names, places, moods, genres, things, whatever you want to throw at me. My creative bucket awaits. If you're here later in the day and I've already posted the story start, feel free to leave words for the next day's letter.

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

~*~

The nightingales sang, drowning out the lecture on nicotiana plants Sheri had been half-heartedly listening to on her laptop. The professor reminded her of a classic ne'er-do-well from the B-movies her boyfriend liked to watch on the weekends when they had time to spend lounging around together. The pencil thin moustache, heavy dark brows, and slicked back hair made her laugh the more she stared at him, completely disregarding what little knowledge he was attempting to impart. His suit was so tight, it was amazing he could lift his arms in the wide gestures he so enjoyed, without splitting the back seam. Maybe he had and that's why he stood so stiff. She laughed out loud, startling her roommate, Nancy.

"Damn, Sheri, you made me drop the newt." She scrambled after the tiny creature. "I have to finish this potion by tonight."

"Sorry, I'll help you find it." But she was much more interested in watching the backside of the nubile young woman as she crawled around searching through the scattered laundry on the floor.

Nancy sat up and glared at her. "Aren't you going to help?"

"Yes, sorry. I was trying to look from here." Her words came out all slow and tangled, like she'd had a dose of Novocain.

A to Z: Beginnings M

Thank you to everyone who has stopped by to leave words for me so far this month. I've had a great time trying to work as many of them in as possible.

My short story, The Spell, was been published on Saturday Night Reader last week. This is free to read so I hope you stop by and enjoy this fun little tale.

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 evening 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 M words. names, places, moods, genres, things, whatever you want to throw at me. My creative bucket awaits. If you're here later in the day and I've already posted the story start, feel free to leave words for the next day's letter.

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

~*~

I should preface this story...and I will... with a disclaimer that I just worked thirteen hours and now finally at 10:30 pm have a chance to sit down at my computer to write (and try not to fall asleep before I finished with) my little story for the day. 

The Muffin Loving Moose

There once was a mysterious male moose who lived in Moravia. He was a bit of a maverick, wandering about alone, having found his fellow moose to be too morose for his taste. All they did was munch greenery day in and out. At night they'd stand together, muttering about wolves and hunters and rumors of moose blood-craving vampires from the nearby Carpathian mountains.

He knew they were misinformed, but he let them believe what they wanted. It didn't matter to him, he preferred to masticate by himself in the peace and quiet of nature without any moose murmuring. 

Muffins were his favorite food. He would find them at the edge of town every few days and it made the effort of wandering out from the wild places worthwhile to munch on mascarpone-filled, marshmallow-topped, mocha-flavored muffins. Some might consider those to be cupcakes, but they would be mistaken.

Much to his surprise, a vampire, craving moose blood, sprang out from behind a pile of those muffins one day and munched happily until the murdered moose was nothing more than mush.

The End.

A to Z: Beginnings L

Thank you to everyone who has stopped by to leave words for me so far this month. I've had a great time trying to work as many of them in as possible.

My short story, The Spell, was been published on Saturday Night Reader last week. This is free to read so I hope you stop by and enjoy this fun little tale.

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 evening 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 L words. names, places, moods, genres, things, whatever you want to throw at me. My creative bucket awaits. If you're here later in the day and I've already posted the story start, feel free to leave words for the next day's letter.

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

~*~

There were no more candles. There would be no more light until dawn, and that was days off. Outside, the wings of the beasts that plagued the night skies beat a wicked rhythm, whisking them over her the hovel she called home, forward and back again, as if they were searching for her, for the little girl who had escaped them.

Inky shadows moved up and down the lane, set apart from the dark of night only by their utter blackness. One of them had a limp. Latisha wondered what had befallen the creature and if someone had managed to hurt it, how they'd done so. Come light, she'd join the others in the hunt for the hiding place of their tormentors. Until then, she held her baby and prayed to be invisible.

"Don't worry, little love. They won't get us." But deep inside, she knew her words were lies.

A to Z: Beginnings K

Thank you to everyone who has stopped by to leave words for me so far this month. I've had a great time trying to work as many of them in as possible.

My short story, The Spell, was been published on Saturday Night Reader last week. This is free to read so I hope you stop by and enjoy this fun little tale.

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 evening 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 K words. names, places, moods, genres, things, whatever you want to throw at me. My creative bucket awaits. If you're here later in the day and I've already posted the story start, feel free to leave words for the next day's letter.

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

~*~


Bethany opened her purse for the security officer. "See, I'm not a kleptomaniac."

The heavy set woman in the one size too small blue uniform didn't appear impressed by her show of cooperation. "Ma'am, we have you on camera shoving earrings and bracelets into your purse."

"Well, I don't see anything in there that doesn't belong there, do you?" She tossed the purse large enough to hold a litter of Chihuahuas at the officer.

She grabbed it out of the air before it managed to even reach the intended target of her face. "There's no need to cause a kerfuffle. If you'll just come with me?"

"I still have shopping to do, and karaoke later with my friends. I don't have time to take a walk with you." She made a show of leaning over the woman's ample bosom to read her nametag. "Kenya?" She snickered. "You're momma should have picked a bigger country."

Kenya scowled and hit the button on her walkie talkie. "Yeah, Earl? We got ourselves a big talkin' thief down here. Page Karen, I'm gonna need her to witness a pat down."

A to Z: Beginnings J

Thank you to everyone who has stopped by to leave words for me so far this month. I've had a great time trying to work as many of them in as possible.

Because it's Saturday, it seems appropriate to announce that my short story, The Spell, has been published on Saturday Night Reader. This is free to read so I hope you stop by and enjoy this fun little tale.

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 evening 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 J words. names, places, moods, genres, things, whatever you want to throw at me. My creative bucket awaits. If you're here later in the day and I've already posted the story start, feel free to leave words for the next day's letter.

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

~*~

"Hey, what you in for?" asked the man in the ripped up jeans and a stained jade green t-shirt on the bench on the other wall of the cell.

"Well, you see, there was a misunderstanding at the track. They claim I drugged one of the other horses."

"You're a tiny guy, aren't ya? You one of them jockeys?"

"Yes. Yes, I am. Jezreal Jones." He considered offering his hand, but decided at the last second that it wasn't a good idea to shake hands with a dirty stranger in a jail cell."

"Funny name."

Jezreal shrugged. "Blame my parents. Nice folks, but lacking in height and consideration for how much their kid might get teased.

"Did you? Drug the horse I mean."

"No, I merely fed him some jelly."

The man leaned forward, shaking his head slowly. "Why on earth would you do that?"

"Lots of sugar makes them nippy. His jockey isn't the nicest guy." Jezreal winked.

A to Z: Beginnings I

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 evening 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 I words. names, places, moods, genres, things, whatever you want to throw at me. My creative bucket awaits. If you're here later in the day and I've already posted the story start, feel free to leave words for the next day's letter.

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


Ever wonder how many writers prefer third person past tense over all the other point of view options? Check out this week's Authors Answer.

~*~

He should have known better than to have slept with her. It was her fault really, all spread out in the skimpy lingerie on the satin sheets, sound asleep breathing softly, lips slightly parted. Had she been dressed in flannels, tucked under some beloved granny's quilt, hair in curlers and one of those hideous face masks on, he would have found her inedible, but no. She was asking for it.

She was lonely. He was just trying to help. The attraction was mutual, he was sure of it. She certainly hadn't complained at the time.

How was he supposed to know that her husband was a powerful priest who had been gone on a week-long retreat? He found out quick when her husband came home and learned what had been going on.

The next thing he knew, he was on an island in the middle of literally nowhere. Just black sand, icy air, and nothing but an inky nebulous haze surrounding the four paces of land he had to walk upon. They were going to pay, both of them. Just as soon as he figured out how to get out of here.

A to Z: Beginnings H

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 evening 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 H words. names, places, moods, genres, things, whatever you want to throw at me. My creative bucket awaits. If you're here later in the day and I've already posted the story start, feel free to leave words for the next day's letter.

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

~*~

It was a slow day at the store, nothing to do but staring out the window, wishing she could be outside enjoying the sun like everyone else. Hilary sighed as she wiped the counter for the tenth time that hour. At least she felt like she was doing something other than wasting a perfectly good Saturday afternoon.

Four hours into her eight hour shift, the first customer walked in. The elderly woman smiled at Hilary, though never quite meeting her gaze. She wandered about the eleven short aisles of the quick mart, stopping briefly at the camping supplies and then the candy. When she finally arrived at the counter with an armload of items, Hillary noticed that the old woman wore a bikini under a not-quite-opaque-enough yellow sundress.

Hillary tried not to stare at all the winkles, age spots and stretch marks as she rung up the odd assortment of chocolate bars, bug spray, a lightweight sleeping bag, matches, and the cheapest pop up tent known to mankind.

"What, you think I'm too old to go hobnobbing around in the woods on a beautiful weekend?" she asked with a raised white bushy brow.

"No, of course not." Hilary shoved the purchases into two bags and made change for the woman.

"You know what..." The old woman pursed her thin lips and clucked her tongue against dentures that clacked around in her mouth. "You should join me. Got to bask in the happiness of youth before you end up like this, you know?" She cackled merrily. "Go on, turn that open sign around. Grab yourself a sleeping bag, I'm buying."

A to Z: Beginnings G

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 evening 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 G words. names, places, moods, genres, things, whatever you want to throw at me. My creative bucket awaits. If you're here later in the day and I've already posted the story start, feel free to leave words for the next day's letter.

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

~*~

It was generally accepted that gnomes didn't move. They didn't dance around the garden at night or prune the greenery. They didn't sniff the gardenias or plan out intricate plantings with complex geometry. But when the moon was just right, the clouds parted just so, and the pond still enough to reflect the soft glitter of the night, those exact things did happen.

And so it was on one perfect night that a young gnome saddled up a sleepy goose and galloped off to find the girl in the giant glorious garden he'd spotted from the tallest pear tree only ten minutes before. See, gnomes are a somewhat impulsive sort and this one may have given little thought to the fact that should the moon part from its just- rightness, and the clouds thicken, and the wind pick up to ripple the water, his evening plans might go sorely awry. 

A to Z: Beginnings F

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 evening 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 F words (no not that one) : names, places, moods, genres, things, whatever you want to throw at me. My creative bucket awaits. If you're here later in the day and I've already posted the story start, feel free to leave words for the next day's letter.

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

~*~

Ferdinand smoothed his whiskers and pondered the author photo on the dust jacket of the book he was reading. A plain mouse stared back at him, nothing on his face to suggest that he'd write such a fantastical tale. It had to be fantasy. Why else would he suggest that felines were in fact friendly? Unless the author's mind was fracturing. Maybe too much sharp cheese.

He put the book down, being sure to tuck it into the shelf and align the spine with the others in his collection. His friends often teased him for being too fastidious, but really, was there such as a thing? Ferdinand sniffed the air. His family would be here soon.

A to Z: Beginnings E

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 evening 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 E words. names, places, moods, genres, things, whatever you want to throw at me. My creative bucket awaits. If you're here later in the day and I've already posted the story start, feel free to leave words for the next day's letter.

Your bountiful suggestions on D-day led to a full story. I hope you enjoy it.

While you're waiting to see what I come up with for E, how about picking up a copy of the spring issue of Bards and Sages Quarterly, which features my short story, Late.

~*~

The dust made Eric's nose twitch. He adjusted his breathing filter and examined the exoskeleton he'd uncovered in the sand. If he didn't know better, he'd have sworn the overall body shape appeared equestrian, but there was no record of those beasts having such a thing. All the photos they'd uncovered in the extensive dig showed them as furry beasts, not covered with heavy bone plating like what he saw here.

He brushed the ridges clean on the bones he'd been working on. Maybe he should tell Dr. Franklin. The eccentric old man might have some ideas of what he'd found here. Then again, if he figured it out himself, he'd be the envy of his classmates. An electric rush filled him as he imagined the accolades he'd receive from discovering a new creature on this ancient planet. No one had found anything new here in decades. That's why it had been cleared as a teaching dig.

So ecstatic that his hands shook, his lips drew into a giant grin around his air intake. His seal broken, he started to cough. He dropped the brush and sat down hard on the ground, sending a cloud of dust up into the air around him. Footsteps pounded the ground around him, coming closer from all directions.

A to Z: Beginnings D

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 evening 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 D words. names, places, moods, genres, things, whatever you want to throw at me. My creative bucket awaits. If you're here later in the day and I've already posted the story start, feel free to leave words for the next day's letter.

Thank to you to all of you who have stopped by so far this month. I've enjoyed playing with your words.

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

Don't stop writing! Is there anything that would make you or has made you? Check out our assortment of answers to this question on this week's Authors Answer and join in the comments over there too.

~*~

WATER

The drip in the kitchen sink was getting worse, constant, rhythmic, setting David's nerves on edge. He put down the sock he'd been darning and glared into to the darkness that was the hallway leading to the kitchen. No one was going to come fix his problem. He didn't have the money to pay a real repairman.

Drip. He counted to ten, breathing in and out through his nose, rolling his shoulders to loosen the tension building there. Maybe if he put a towel in the sink the noise wouldn't echo through the house quite so much. 

Drip. He set the ball of yarn next to the sock and got to his shaking legs. His walker stood at the ready.  Making his way slowly to the hallway, he passed the photo of his darling wife, gone six years now. He put a hand to his lips and then pressed it to the glass.  Drip.

Sophia would be upset over his lack of dedication in keeping up the house once she'd departed. But the things about him didn't seem to matter as much anymore now that she wasn't there with him. The walls were still standing and the roof didn't leak. Drip.

The demons that ran the city could sell the house when he was done with it no matter what shape it was in. They'd probably just tear it down and put up a corner convenience store anyway.  They kept sending him notices about the state of his yard. He kept discarding them. They'd turn his yard into a parking lot. They'd been doing  it all up and  down the street. Every time he looked out the window the neighborhood he remembered was diminished. It was like a bad dream.

Drip. The wheel of his walker stuck on the transition bar between the carpet of the hallway and the tile of the kitchen. He shoved it forward like he always did, lifting slightly, shifting his weight. The wheel didn't give. Drip.

David feel forward with the walker, lurching over the side of it, his arm dangling at an awkward angle. Pain shot through his side and his mouth went dry.  Drip.

His heart began to race. His head throbbed. He called out, but there was no one there to answer, no one to help him. Darkness crept in around the edges of his vision.

Drip.    

If only he could get a drink of water. He tried reach for the sink, but his arms refused to obey.

He gasped for a breath, wishing for just one last drop to ease the tightness in his throat and chest. David went still.

Drip.

A to Z: Beginnings C

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 C words. names, places, moods, genres, things, whatever you want to throw at me. My creative bucket awaits.

And while we're on C... If you enjoy dark contemporary speculative fiction, pick up a copy of Acidic Fiction: Corrosive Chronicles, which features my short story, Healer.

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

~*~

Clara stepped out of the campervan and peered at the clouds, hoping the rain they promised would hold off until she returned from her walk. She'd waited three years to see the caterpillars, saving every last penny to gather the bribe she needed to get into the restricted zone. Now she was finally here and they were just over the next ridge, protected from the residential zone where visitors like herself and the vast array of researchers and security people lived.

Two others ventured out with her, leaving their shelters behind to assuage their curiosity. Careful not to step off the dirt path, Clara made her way closer to the ridge.

The dirt turned from a fine grit to a powder, blowing in the warm breeze. The caterpillars had fully processed the soil in their search for the required nutrients to complete their metamorphosis. Clara reached the edge and got down on her stomach, peering down at the once in a lifetime view below. 

A to Z: Beginnings B

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 B words. names, places, moods, genres, things, whatever you want to throw at me. My creative bucket awaits.

While we're on B.... I'll share the newest addition to my family. This is Bitsy, our adorable little rescue dog. If you decide to buy a puppy, please remember that they grow up and require love, attention and food. This poor little two year old girl is so skinny her spine and ribs are still plainly visible even three weeks after being removed from her previous home. Her wounds have healed, and she's slowly putting on weight, learning how to play and settling in with our other dog who is teaching her how to enjoy being a dog.

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

~*~

Gina stared at the massive spread of food set out at the barbeque, wondering how on earth she was going to make it through the evening without exploding. A tiny foot pressed against her belly, protruding through her shirt like an alien crawling around inside her. She knew she should feel all warm and fuzzy about the baby, yearning to feel it in her arms, anxious for the day she could press it's little bald head against her cheek and inhale that baby smell. But she didn't.

She was sore all the time, and tired, and sick of feeling sick. Her mother and sisters wouldn't shut up about how happy they would be when she gave them a grandchild, a niece to cuddle with. They didn't understand her frustration with the fact that after tonight, she'd be bedridden for the rest of the pregnancy. A prisoner of the impending birth.

Bugs zipped around over the tables and the vast array of her extended family. Try as she might, she couldn't ignore their buzzing or the sensation that they all wanted to be in her face. She swatted them to no avail. 

There were many conversations going on around her at once, she couldn't focus on any one of them. It was as if they were all talking about her, looking at her.

The blueberry pie beside her reminded her of the color of the walls in the doctor's office. The office where she'd laid on the table as they impregnated her, where she'd willingly waited for them to put this thing inside her so she could get the fifteen thousand dollars the agency promised when she finished her nine month term.

Her mother smiled and beckoned Gina over. How was she going to tell her that there would be no grandchild, that the thing inside her was an investment? Fifteen thousand dollars was her rent for the next year a nice little vacation to help her forget this stupid idea. She should have thrown the agency brochure away. Now she was going to have to come up with something fast because her mother had given up with the waving and was heading over with a bulging blue and pink ribbon-festooned bag printed with pacifiers.

Bilious, Gina grabbed the bandana off her head and covered her face just as the first heave hit her.

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.

~*~

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.