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.