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.