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.