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.