Saturday, April 23, 2016

A to Z: Short Beginnings T

2016 THEME: Short Stories - at least the beginnings thereof.
YOUR PART: Throw out names, themes, random words or situations using 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 challenge involved. Usually that means an opening line or a theme. This month: your words.

My creative blender awaits your T word suggestions in the comments section. Stop by tomorrow's post to read the story you inspired.

Looking for more great blogs? Check out the massive list of A to Z Challenge participants.

S Story:
They're going to be sorry, Sam thought as he slunk into the shadows across the street from the three girls. Their skimpy shirts and tiny skirts only served to make them sumptuous to the grown men slowly driving by. Any one of them could be a sinister scoundrel, out to leave a girl with a slit throat rather than some STD.
He caught the cloying scent of perfume as the breeze picked up. Those girls needed saving whether they knew it or not and he had just the thing. He reached into the chilled depths of the backpack he'd hidden beside a dumpster and removed three containers.
The round plastic tubs looked like yogurt. They even had a little red strawberry on the front. The girls wouldn't look close anyway. He could already picture their tongues running suggestively over the spoons as he slipped them into the containers. Sam straightened his t-shirt, bearing the same strawberry logo and plastered a silly smile on his face. Plain and goofy, girls never gave him a second thought.
Sam ventured back out into the light and crossed the street. "Would you three like a free sample?"

Friday, April 22, 2016

A to Z: Short Beginnings S

2016 THEME: Short Stories - at least the beginnings thereof.
YOUR PART: Throw out names, themes, random words or situations using 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 challenge involved. Usually that means an opening line or a theme. This month: your words.

My creative blender awaits your S word suggestions in the comments section. Stop by tomorrow's post to read the story you inspired.

Looking for more great blogs? Check out the massive list of A to Z Challenge participants.

Thank you for all the word suggestions yesterday! It was hard to pick which ones to use with so many to choose from, but I tried to use at least one from everyone.

Many of you have asked where the rest of the stories are or what I'll be doing with these starts. The answer is: May. May is my usual short story focus month, where I either write/start a short story each day or try to finish one. Some days I just work on one. The point is to focus on them instead of novels, which is where my attention lies most of the rest of the year. Due to life being what it was last year, I have all of last year's A to Z short beginnings to play with this May as well. I will certainly not be lacking for material to work with. While I don't often post the finished short stories during May, because my intention is to submit and sell them eventually, I do try to post my progress each day so I hope you'll keep dropping by once April comes to a close. 

R Story:
Rod shooed the dog away so he could carry the gear inside without the flea-ridden ankle bitter sneaking into the bar. From the looks of it, the thing probably had rabies.
"Where is the damned roadie with my guitar?" Ruby's distinctively nasal voice cut through the heavy stage doors as if they were mere cardboard.
Her sound might make her a radio star, but for him and the rest of the crew, all it did was rattle their nerves.
"I'm coming, Ruby."
He glanced around, making sure the furry rascal wasn't lurking under the trailer. All he needed was for the dog to get in and set off Ruby's allergies. She'd be on an instant rampage. She was bad enough to deal with when she was in a good mood.
Not seeing the dog, he grabbed her mic case in one hand the guitar in the other. Rod fought his way through the door with both hands full and slipped into the artificial dim light of the bar. A couple patrons had already set up at the tables in the front, beer bottles sweating in their hands. Ruby sat in a chair on the center of the stage, sipping her rum and coke, like she was royalty.
"Hurry up." She glared at him. "Get it out. Let's go. I don't have all night."
"Right. Sorry," he said, but under his breath he muttered obscenities. Thankfully, the ruthless witch couldn't read lips.
The other band members when about setting up their own gear and gave her plenty of space. They'd all had their brief moment of romance with her over the past year they'd been on the road together, and every one of them had the emotional scars to show for it.
Rod carefully unpacked her guitar and set it in the stand beside her chair, making sure not to touch her. After he'd set up her mic and run the cables, he slipped back out to the trailer to check his own case buried under the backdrops they wouldn't be using in this small venue.
He flipped the latches up and opened the top. Inside rested a neat coil of rope. Tonight after the gig was over and the band completed their last ritual round of shots, Ruby was going to regret her lack of respect.

Thursday, April 21, 2016

A to Z: Short Beginnins R

2016 THEME: Short Stories - at least the beginnings thereof.
YOUR PART: Throw out names, themes, random words or situations using 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 challenge involved. Usually that means an opening line or a theme. This month: your words.

My creative blender awaits your R word suggestions in the comments section. Stop by tomorrow's post to read the story you inspired.

Looking for more great blogs? Check out the massive list of A to Z Challenge participants.

Q Story:
"Quit fretting Isabella, your hair will turn out queer and no one wants that at your coronation," said her grandmother who stood in the shadows.
The maid pulled the braids together and pinned them in place. Another put slippers on her feet and another placed golden bracelets on her arms. When her hair was finished, she moved to the quilted coverlet on her bed to relax while the maids cleaned up the bath and everything they'd brought out of the chests.
"You'll be fine, Isabella, you look the quintessential queen. Go on, they're waiting for you."
The whole seducing the king plan had turned into quite a quagmire, Isabella considered. After all, she'd never wanted to be queen. Her grandmother did. And after the coronation, she'd only have a few years, if she was lucky, to watch her grandmother fail. Tonight, when the moon was full overhead, they'd be switching bodies. The poor king had no idea what a mess his kingdom was about to become, and for that she felt bad. He was a kind man, and he'd been nothing but good to her during their courtship. But if she didn't complete the ritual with her grandmother, Isabella would be dead by morning regardless of her youthful body.

Wednesday, April 20, 2016

A to Z: Short Beginnings Q

2016 THEME: Short Stories - at least the beginnings thereof.
YOUR PART: Throw out names, themes, random words or situations using 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 challenge involved. Usually that means an opening line or a theme. This month: your words.

My creative blender awaits your Q word suggestions in the comments section. Stop by tomorrow's post to read the story you inspired.

Looking for more great blogs? Check out the massive list of A to Z Challenge participants.

P Story:
Percy heaved a great sigh and slumped into the mud, staring at the sky so he could avoid the disapproving gaze of the bird on the fence. He knew it was there, he could feel it's beady black eyes staring down its beak at him. It had been every morning for the last week. But unlike the previous mornings, it hadn't left after he'd turned his attention to the clouds.
"Leave me alone."
It opened its beak and squawked, then settled into a regular bird voice."Why would I do that piglet?"
"Because I'm destined to wallow here until I grow up and turn to bacon. What kind of bird are you anyway? You're too colorful to be an oriole and that's the brightest bird I know."
"Parrot. Pretty bird." It squawked again. "Sorry, I hate when that slips out. Too many years in the pet shop." It perched there, preening its wings. "You can't turn to bacon, you know. You have to be here to have the farmer do that to you."
Percy lifted his head from the cool mud to ponder this information.
"Polly wants a cracker!" The parrot let out a loud shriek and covered its beak with its wings. "So sorry. It gets worse when I'm trying make my own sentences. My name is Piccasso, but the way."
"Nice to meet you." Percy stood, the mud dripping from his portly belly. "So what you're saying is that I could just not be here when the farmer come for me."
"Exactly that. How about an adventure, you and me, perhaps Paris or Pamplona?"
Percy squealed. "Both, please."

Tuesday, April 19, 2016

A to Z: Short Beginnings P

2016 THEME: Short Stories - at least the beginnings thereof.
YOUR PART: Throw out names, themes, random words or situations using 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 challenge involved. Usually that means an opening line or a theme. This month: your words.

My creative blender awaits your P word suggestions in the comments section. Stop by tomorrow's post to read the story you inspired.

Looking for more great blogs? Check out the massive list of A to Z Challenge participants.

O story:
The oblong shadows stretched far out ahead of Olive as she left the parking lot filled with immaculately clean minivans and approached the school. Presenting her idea to the oligarchy that was the PTO, said with nose high in the air and a perfectly manicured brows raised on botoxed foreheads, was not how she wanted to spend her Tuesday evening. But someone had to make a stand about the excessive fundraisers that further alienated the students whose parents didn't have rich relatives or parents willing to lay down a couple hundred dollars every time a flyer came home for twelve dollar single sheets of seed-embedded 100% recycled wrapping paper or two ounces of rosemary-infused extra virgin olive oil in some hand blown bottle made by monks in some old monastery in some remote corner of the world.
She walked into the school, already able to hear the chattering pouring out of the library. She walked through the open door and immediately felt out of place. Her blouse hadn't been seen on a mannequin in at least a decade and white dog hairs stuck to her slacks. The comfortable flats that got her through the day in the office that was her kitchen table didn't exude the fashion and power that the women had who were now staring at her.
Olive took a deep breath and did her best to be oblivious to their obvious disdain. She took a seat at an empty table, her knees rubbing the top of the surface suited the height of elementary-aged children. Even the allure of freshly brewed coffee that she was sure was better than the gas station variety she allowed herself as a treat, wasn't enough to coax her out of the safety of her seat. She whipped out her three year old phone and pretended to check messages while the others slowly turned back around and resumed their conversations.