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 C 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.
B Story...
Upon first copying the words I'd been given into my blank document, I had in mind to write a cute little story about a beagle and a bumblebee. Then I got pulled away from my computer and didn't end up writing the story until Sunday morning. So, uh, yeah...it appears the story veered in an entirely different direction.
B Story...
Upon first copying the words I'd been given into my blank document, I had in mind to write a cute little story about a beagle and a bumblebee. Then I got pulled away from my computer and didn't end up writing the story until Sunday morning. So, uh, yeah...it appears the story veered in an entirely different direction.
Barry Beagle sped
down the highway, the traffic blurring
beside him as he zigzagged through the lanes. His phone buzzed on the plastic
console somewhere under the pile of wadded up fast food wrappers like a bumblebee that wouldn't go away. Knowing
it was his boss, because no one else ever bothered to call him, he blindly
fished through the garbage and located the phone.
"Your delay in arriving to work is aggravating."
"Good morning to you too, you bombastic ass," he muttered under his breath. Barry switched
the phone to speaker and dropped it on his lap so he could pay attention to the
road. "I'll be there in three minutes."
"You better be, or consider yourself fired."
Literally, he was sure. Beelzebub loved fire.
Barry ended the call and concentrated on weaving through
traffic at his current blazing speed.
Other drivers swore at him, gave him the finger, flashed their lights and
honked their horns. Barry laughed at them all.
Then he spotted it, the gas truck, it's bulbous chrome tank gleaming
in the morning sun. He punched the gas, the laughter bubbling up from deep
inside until tears ran down his cheeks. The boss was going to love this.
The tanker truck was straight ahead. Barry tapped the back
end of the single car between him and his goal. The car went spinning off to
the left. The screams of the passengers as they slammed into the car in the
next lane filled him with glee.
With the gas pedal to the floor, he aimed for the back of
the truck. The boss would do the rest. Barry held his arms out wide as the car
slammed into the tanker, propelling onto its side as it jackknifed into the
heavy traffic of the morning rush on the highway. The glorious fumes tickled his
nostrils as the fuel gushed from the punctured tank. And then the spark of his
own car exploding ignited it all.
Barry extracted himself from the wreckage. His clothes had burned away, allowing his wings the freedom to unfurl and his long forked tail room to lash from side to side as he walked through the flames. From the sheer number if blacked souls snaking about in the chaos
he'd created, he was sure he wasn't in trouble for being late. In fact, he
considered as the boss summoned him back to hell, he might even get a promotion.