Storywriting, Go!

[keira]

You have thirty minutes to write a story from the given prompts. Hilarity will ensue.

 

Basically, you pick a prompt from the choices, set a timer for 30 min, and start writing. When the timer goes off, post what you have. A great way to strengthen writing skills!

 

Prompt 1: A supermodel from South Dakota rooms with a punk rocker with a Napoleon complex.

Prompt 2: A psychiatrist from New Hampshire gives a horrible disease to a plumber with chronic hiccups.

Prompt 3: A super hero weds the mother of a drug lord from Kentucky.

[Trenton.]

A supermodel from south dakota rooms with a punk rocker with a napoleon complex. The end.

 

Huh... 2000 posts. Whaddya know.

 

POST NUMBER #2000

 

I forgot the popcorn and the fireworks, and to milk it, so deal with this.

[Actaeon]

... Don't know if spam post or uncharacteristically clever.

 

 

You made it to 2000 without being banned or canned. Well done... I think.

[Trenton.]

I was trying to be clever

[Actaeon]

Then this would have been the time to call somebody "Hal".

 

(Sorry for helping derail your thread, Sylae. I'll give this exercise a shot if I get a free half hour.)

[Lauren CW]

Bzzzt! Bzzzt! Bzzzt! Bzz- Her alarm stopped when one of her eyes slowly crept open and a lazy arm snaked out from under the covers to put her hand on her mobile. She spent another 5 minutes mentally preparing herself for her morning routine, determining whether she was going to eat breakfast after her shower or skip the eggs and toast in favour of spending a little extra time in the bathroom making herself pretty. Reviewing her plans for the day, she decided that she could afford the breakfast. It wasn't like she planned on seeing anyone that she knew, other than the few brief moments when her coworker begun his shift at the record store and hers ended. So she slowly reached her legs out from under her comforter allowing the sudden cold to help shock her awake.

 

After stretching like a cat for a moment, she meandered towards the bathroom slowly stepping out of her panties and tossing them in the clothes hamper by the door. Her shower took the same 10 minutes as always, and when she stepped out she took a moment to towel-dry her fairly short blonde hair. Back in her bedroom, she pulled out of the dresser the outfit she had planned to wear during her shower; Thigh high striped black and white stockings, a frilly black and purple short skirt, and a black t-shirt featuring a cartoon skeleton wielding a knife chasing a terrified child. The girl nodded in satisfaction at the sight of the outfit laid out on her bed, then got dressed after slipping into a fresh set of underwear.

 

She crossed her bedroom into her kitchen, glancing in dismay at the stack of dishes that was mounting in the sink. It wasn't that she was lazy, but living alone didn't dirty nearly enough dishes at a time to run a full load in the dishwasher.

'After I get back, I'll run the dishes regardless...' she resolved.

The girl stooped to pull a pan out of the drawer underneath the stove, flipped on the burner, and filled the pan with 2 eggs from the fridge. She let them cook while she put some whole-wheat bread in the toaster, found her purple tennis-shoes, and put a shock of her blonde hair in a ponytail now that it was mostly dried. Another 10 minutes and she had finished her breakfast.

 

The girl returned to the bathroom one last time to brush her teeth, and then gathered her phone, wallet, and keys from her wooden nightstand. She then donned her leather jacket hanging next to the door, checked to make sure her lights were all flipped off and locked the door as she left.

[Cpt. Charles]

Got any different prompts?

 

If not, I will try the third option. Just got to learn something about Kentucky...

[adc.]

Originally Posted By: Admiral Alex

Got any different prompts?

If not, I will try the third option. Just got to learn something about Kentucky...

Agreed.
-----
-Sorry if this was a derailment. But I suppose it isn't, it's a suggestion, Nightwatcher
-----

[BMA]

hey, wow.

 

Improving my writing skills is partly why I come here in the first place. I'm afraid I know none of the places you've mentioned (unless KFC is from Kentucky) and maybe I'll read a couple more stories before submitting mine.

 

*

 

That was a good story bit. And congrats Trenton.

[Lauren CW]

I might be able to dig up a few excercises from my writing classes in college. Most of them didn't have very specific prompts though.

 

 

[Tyranicus]

Originally Posted By: BMA

I'm afraid I know none of the places you've mentioned (unless KFC is from Kentucky)

Funnily enough, Kentucky Fried Chicken is in fact from Kentucky.

[Lauren CW]

Even after 20 years, some people still used the landing containers in which the first colonists arrived instead of the buildings whose construction had begun after the terraforming project was deemed successful. They looked like large cargo shipping containers with collapsible steel ramps on either side. The containers had their own generators build into the backs of them, which were initially used to power their pressure systems, oxygen recyclers, and water mixers, among more basic things such as lighting and any electrical appliances housed within. Her boss, Mr. Dickson, used 2 of these containers connected together with the inner walls removed to house his record store, Helter Skelter.

 

She walked the two blocks down the street in her usual early morning daze to the store, passing by a new coffee shop she had been meaning to try out. The girl paid no mind to the rovers driving down the dusty dirt "road" as she fished in her jacket pocket for her phone and cigarettes, hoping. 0755. Yes, that was enough time for a quick smoke before opening the store for the day. She lit up, blocking out everything in the world but herself and her cigarette and the slight breeze from the passing rovers.

 

Afterward, she withdrew her keys from her pocket and opened up the door, turning the sign hanging in the window from "Closed" to "Open" and flipping on the lights. She crossed the room to the counter and reached behind it for a nametag that read "Sadie" and pinned it to her breast with an eyeroll. It took her 5 minutes of perusing the shelves and boxes on tables full of records to find one that suited her, placed it on the deck, and lowered the needle. The soothing twang of Johnny Cash's guitar filled her chest as she settled in behind the counter with a book and a bored expression for the day.

[Lauren CW]

Despite being one of only 3 record stores on planet, it was a fairly slow day. Only 8 customers came in in the first 4 hours, so she felt justified in closing the shop to take a half hour lunch. Sadie stepped outside, locking the door and flipping the sign back to "Closed" and lit another smoke, considering where to go. There was a pasta shop a few blocks to the north, but it was a bit of a walk and she did not want to have to wait for her lunch. Not only was she starting to get hungry, but she also didn't want to leave the store closed for so long. So she decided to head over to the new coffee shop between the store and her apartment.

 

The sign above the entrance read Jitterfix, and promised to give you reason to wake up in the morning. She stubbed out her cigarette and stepped inside, her eyes casually sweeping the store. There were 3 customers inside scattered amongst the tables, and two stands in front of the counter with assorted beans from off-world. Sadie stepped up to the counter, giving the pretty brunette at the register a smile before looking through the glass screen and selecting a particularly tasty looking coffeecake crumble muffin and ordering a latte.

 

After paying the $4.65 with a 5-note, she took a seat near the counter where she had a clear view of the door and the other customers. She snatched up a newspaper from a stack near the straws, sugars, creamers, lids, and assorted other things one could use to ruin a good black coffee, and began to pretend to read it. Meanwhile, she eavesdropped on the couple nearby who were talking about "Blah blah blah vacation blah blah blah kids..." Boring. She snuck a glance at the brunette, who's nametag so helpfully labelled "Liz", who was now making her latte, and decided she would have to start coming here more often.

 

 

[Lauren CW]

When her order was up, Sadie walked to the counter to pick up her Latte.

"Thanks... Liz." She said with an awkward pause, making a show of reading the nametag.

Sadie gave another smile and left a generous tip, returning to her table latte in hand. She began to set in to her muffin, washing down bites with what was a surprisingly good coffee.

 

About halfway through her meal, another customer walked in the door and up to the counter. He was about 5'11" and wore a baggy grey hooded sweatshirt. A scraggly beard and sunglasses covered most of his face, but he looked to be in his late 20's. Something about his movement and appearance set off an instinctual warning cry in Sadie's head, and she kept the main focus of her attention on him through her peripheral vision. He handed a note to Liz and adjusted his sweatshirt, standing so his body was blocking the view of most of the counter. She paled visibly and nervously opened the cash register, withdrawing the money within.

 

Sadie mentally sighed, set down her newspaper and muffin and grabbed her latte, removing the lid. She stood slowly and quietly and walked over to the counter. It was clearly a robbery, and she guessed that the gun was tucked in to the front of his pants covered by the sweatshirt. That was good. It meant he couldn't grab it right away.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but I think usually these transactions go the other way around. You hand her the money and she gives you a coffee."

 

He turned and started to lift his sweatshirt, but she proved quicker. Reflexes from a lifetime ago before "Sadie" existed snapped into play. She splashed him in the face with her hot latte, angling it up under his shades, and dropped the cup at the same time her knee shot into his groin. He yelled in agony and groped blindly for his gun. Again, she proved quicker. With her free hand she reached in and drew his gun and ejecting the clip onto the floor with one fluid movement. She checked the chamber by racking the slide back, but nothing flew out. Reversing her grip on the pistol, she gave him a crack on the head with it, dropping him like a sack of rocks. The entire exchange happened in under 3 seconds.

[Lauren CW]

Is anyone else interested in this? No one else is posting anything, and I feel like I'm just bumping a dead thread. Since I am updating mine elsewhere as well, I would rather not do that.

[keira]

I have been reading it.

[Cpt. Charles]

Me too. If you do move it, though, post the link. It's a good read.

[Lauren CW]

I am not sure I'll be able to update today either (I promise I'm not abandoning it!!!), I'm doing some research. I am also trying to lay out background world information in my head, such as how advanced I need technology to be to write a story in this time-period. I'm trying to use somewhere between late PL5 and EARLY PL6 as a reference.

 

Click to reveal..

PL 5: INFORMATION AGE

The Industrial Age relied on chemical power, but in the Information Age, computer technology and electronics rule supreme. Satellite information systems and the Internet connect the globe digitally. This Progress Level also sees the introduction of fission power and weapons reducing the importance of fossil fuels. The automobile replaces the locomotive as the common form of travel. The first steps toward space travel involve massive chemical rockets, unmanned probes and satellites, and short-term manned missions.

The technology of the era allows greater citizen participation in government. The emergence of international alliances begins to dissolve borders between nations. Corporations gather power and begin to threaten government authority. Technology has a greater effect on individual lifestyles than on society as a whole. Most weapons at this time are refined versions of Industrial Age equipment. Rifles, machine guns, and heavy howitzers are still used by the world’s soldiers. Computerized targeting systems and guided weapons make warfare much more precise and efficient. Strategic weapons, tested but never used, exhibit the species’ power to exterminate itself in minutes.

Humanity experienced its Information Age as anxious years full of minor crises. The tension gradually alleviates through the age, and as the era ends new superpowers form.

 

PL 6: FUSION AGE

The development of fusion power provides an efficient, nonexpendable energy source that almost obliterates the need for chemical fuel sources. Advanced space exploration and colonization become possible. Computers become even more accessible, reliable, and powerful, leading to the development of virtual systems and widespread access to the global Internet.

Slowly, society experiences another revolution as individual nations are replaced by world powers. Megacorporations number among these new superpowers as the line between the national citizen and corporate employee is rendered indistinct. Armed with the means to eradicate the entire species, the world powers keep conflicts to the level of skirmishing and posturing, and integration of the Information Age’s improvements proceed peacefully.

Scientific advanced in genetic engineering lead to artificial evolution and the first government- and corporate-sanctioned attempts to genetically manipulate human beings. Early results are encouraging, with the manifestation of positive and negative mutations in the species toward the end of the age. Scientists also perfect cloning technology, and the first human clones are created.

In the later years of this age, the first crude applications of gravity induction technology appear, in the form of civilian and military vehicles that can move through the air without using physical propulsion or consumption of fuel.

Chemical-powered explosives and firearms remain the weapons of choice; fusion technology can’t be effectively miniaturized for personal combat. Nevertheless, advanced chemistry and superconducting technology change the materials and capabilities of many weapons. True spaceships become possible, propelled by powerful fusion drives, but still require a reaction mass to traverse space.

The age sees the tenuous settlement of other planets and asteroids within the same star system.

[Harehunter]

If I may be forgiven on choosing a prompt of my own, I submit for your review and critique:

Originally Posted By: "The Crocodile's Tale"

"The Crocodile's Tale"

Hearken to the moral of the Crocodile's tale.

 

"When cometh the day of Great Gnu Migration, seekest thou not thine quarry,

for in such seeking thou shalt surely seek in vain.

For knowethh this; thine quarry, the Gnu, be fleeter of foot than thou

and upon the dry land can easily evade thine attack.

 

Therefore I charge thee, seekest thou not thine prey on open land,

but lie instead within the cloak of thine own element, the river muddied.

Patiently bide thy time in vigilance, and thou shalt most surely be rewarded.

 

For as surely as thou dost not seek thine quarry, it shall surely become emboldened,

and in such wise, cast caution to the wind.

 

When opportunity presents itself, thrust thyself fully upon thine prey,

grasping it in such vise-like grip as thou hast, and drag it into the

realm of thine demesne; thusly thou shalt reap the reward of thine diligence."

 

"Seek and thou shalt seek in vain.

"Seek not and thine quarry shall find thee."

[Lauren CW]

Oh my... That is wonderful! I would definitely hang that in a frame in my bathroom, where guests can read it while they sit on the toilet.

That is supposed to say more about my sense of humour than your writing though.

 

At first the Early Modern English bit threw me off, but I couldn't find any mistakes in it. Well done!

[Lauren CW]

A minute later, she leaned back against the locked door to Helter Skelter. Sadie's heart was pounding in her chest. She wiped the cold sweat from her brow and exhaled long and slow. Her hyperventillating began to ease up and she snapped into action.

 

Immediately after dropping the would-be robber, she had wiped down the gun with a napkin, ignoring the astonished looks of the patrons. Liz was already on the phone with the police. Her coffee-cup, muffin wrapper, newspaper, napkins she had used... All of them she threw into a small metal wastebin and lit them on fire with her cigarette lighter.

 

"W-we just had an attempted robbery down here at Jitterfix Java. Y-yes, on 42nd street. The man is unconscious-"

At this point, Sadie had slammed down the reciever using a rag.

 

"You subdued him. Not me. I was never here. When he showed you his gun you threw the coffee in his face and slammed his head into the counter." Sadie's emerald eyes locked first onto Liz's, then appraised the other customers. Her face was a silent plea begging them to go along with her story. But she was out of time.

 

Inside the record store, she flipped her shirt inside out. Grabbing a pair of scissors from behind the counter, Sadie began cutting away at her skirt, removing the frills. Her stockings, she rolled all the way down to her shoes. For a finishing touch, she grabbed a jar of polish and went to the restroom. One quick snip and her ponytail was a memory. She wetted down her hair. Next, a liberal application of the polish to her hair and she spiked it in the back. Sadie could hear the sirens wailing as the police arrived. A glance in the mirror showed her transformation complete; Sadie now had (mostly) black hair that looked like a highschool teen's first home-made dye job, a simple short skirt and a plain black t-shirt. That should be enough for her to check out the scene from a distance without being recognized. She grabbed a cigarette from her leather jacket which she had left behind the counter and exited through the front door, the bored expression from earlier that morning returning.

 

Outside, Sadie lit her cigarette and crossed the street, looking down the block. The police pulled the unconscious man out to their vehicle. They questioned first Liz, then the customers just outside the door of the coffee shop. After a few minutes of this, the police drove away with their captive, and more importantly, without any signs of a search for Sadie. She stubbed out her cigarette and stepped back inside the record store. Her pulse had finally slowed back down to acceptable levels, and she went back to the restroom to wash as much of the polish out of her hair as she could. She flipped her shirt back around and pulled up her stockings, and lamented the loss of a good skirt the rest of her day at work.

 

Okay, kids! This story now has a working title. It's called Tidal Generators and Paper Cuts. Any slacking this week has been due to my writing computer's monitor and mouse simultaneously giving out, getting stranded in this heat when my friend's radiator blew up, and an interview. And now, back to your regularly scheduled adventures with Sadie! What will she do next, kids?! Note: In an effort to not go insane, I'm going to update every OTHER day instead of daily.

[Lauren CW]

After work she hurried home. She skipped the elevator, taking the stairs two by two. At the stairwell exit she finally slowed, creaking the door just a crack to peek down the hallway. Empty. She exhaled a breath she didn't realize she was holding, and entered her apartment. Music from her downstairs neighbors bled through the floor, a frequent sign that Erica was having one of her small parties. Sadie decided it might be a good idea to be not in her apartment that night.

 

She crossed her bedroom straight to the nightstand, and removed a 9 millimetre Walther. It was short enough to conceal and draw with ease. She racked the slide, loading a round into the chamber. In the bathroom, she stashed the pistol underneath her towel and showered, paying special attention to her hair. Afterward, Sadie set about fixing her hair with a pair of scissors. Once she was satisfied, she slapped together a quick avocado and cream cheese bagel and gulped down a yogurt cup.

 

A glance at the stove told her it was just after 5pm. She tucked her pistol in the back of her freshly donned jeans, and removed a bottle of vodka from her liquor cabinet. Sadie grabbed her leather jacket and left her apartment for the second time that day. As she approached the door to Erica's apartment, the music grew louder. After nearly a minute, she gave up on knocking and opened the door.

 

[keira]

I like this story, just thought I would mention this.

[Lauren CW]

It's a bit of a pain in the ass when I'm trying to go to bed and she keeps poking my brain with a straw to get up and take her home. She was upset when I left her at work with her hair full of icky make-shift dye and her ponytail in the sink, and she wanted to go home and take a shower to fix her hair.

[keira]

My best ideas seem to happen right when I'm trying to sleep. Then I wake up and they are all gone.

[Lauren CW]

The scene that greeted her was a familiar one. Mike, Ryan, and a girl she didn't recognize were sitting around the coffeetable playing cards. Erica was drunk, waving her arms in the air and shaking her curly brown hair about wildly. When Mike noticed Sadie, he gave a wave and yelled at Erica. She opened her eyes and a huge smile lit up her face. She yelled "Sadiiiieee!" as she ran over, flailing her arms out wide for a hug and nearly tripping over the end table by the couch.

 

"Hey. I heard the music playing, thought I'd drop by."

 

"What?!" Erica gestured at Mike to turn the music down to a tolerable level.

 

"I said, I heard the music playing and thought I'd see what's up?"

 

Erica gasped. "It's like my bat-signal for Sadies!" she squealed. Yup. Definitely drunk.

 

"No promises..."

 

"Aww, you're no fun!"

 

"Ah-ah, but no-fun doesn't bring this!" Sadie gestured with the bottle of vodka and a smirk.

 

"Okay, maybe you're a little fun." Erica returned with a dubious look.

 

"Well, go get a couple glasses!" Sadie stuffed the bottle in Erica's hand, turned her about by the shoulder and slapped her ass towards the kitchen.

 

Erica turned around for a quick salute and a "Yes ma'am!" before complying.

 

As Erica went to the kitchen, Ryan suddenly flung his cards across the livingroom.

 

"You're a cheat!" he said. "That's how you do it!"

 

"And a damn fine one, too." the new girl remarked calmly as she raked his chips across the coffeetable.

 

"She's not a cheat, you just suck." said Mike.

 

"Says the one who was out first!" Ryan shot back.

 

"Getting your ass kicked again Ryan?" she stuck out her hand towards the new girl. "Sadie, by the way."

 

"Jamie." They shook hands and Sadie took a seat.

 

"Holdem'?" Sadie asked, knowing the answer already. It was always Holdem'.

 

"Yeah, but these guys..." Jamie shook her head, exasperated.

 

"Alright, deal me in. We'll see if we can spice this up."

 

"Me too me too!" came Erica's excited reply from the kitchen.

 

Together they divided up the chips and dealt a new game. Through a feat of sheer drunken willpower, Erica managed to bring over 5 drinks in one trip without spilling or breaking any glasses.

 

"Any one of us could have helped you carry those..." said Mike, but it was a moot point.

 

It didn't take long for Jamie to take the lead. Erica was drunk, and Ryan and Mike were lousy. Jamie was one of those players who took a small advantage at the start and turned it to a bigger one by leaning on the other players. Sadie put up with it for a while, biding her time and throwing out false tells. Eventually, when she felt she had a strong enough hand, Sadie goaded Jamie into making the mistake investing too much in one round and the power shifted. Then it was Sadie's turn to lean, and she had a much bigger advantage than Jamie had had at the beginning. It didn't take long after that to mop up.

 

[Harehunter]

I would like to publish my latest piece of prose here, but I fear it would get me banned. For those who are brave enough, I have posted it here. I can almost assure you that if you have any sanity left, well ......

[BMA]

HH, my firewall's blocking that link under category : "Phishing".

 

(It is a somewhat oversensitive firewall though.)

[Harehunter]

I'll put it on the the pun thread.

[Student of Trinity]

A few months ago I invented a new genre of story to entertain a clutch of daughters and nieces: Morally Ambiguous Vegetable Stories. They feature anthropomorphized vegetables, but it is a genre convention that the anthropomorphism be wildly inconsistent. Sometimes it's a plot feature that a potato is small and has no arms, but then within a few lines there may be a carrot driving a sports car. The stories are typically short and violent, and have no heroes. The first of the stories went something like this.

Quote:

The Bad Potato and the Good Potato

Once upon a time there were two potatoes. One was a bad potato. It was mean and had beady little eyes. The other was a good potato, supposedly.

 

The bad potato decided to lay a trap for the good potato, so it dug a pit, and stuck a sharp stick in the bottom as a stake. The stake ended up kind of sticking out of the pit wall, on an upward angle, because the bad potato was too lazy and careless to sink it properly upright in the floor. The bad potato covered the pit over with a dead leaf. Then it hid by squirming its way down into the dirt nearby, with just a beady eye sticking up so it could watch.

 

The nominally good potato came rolling along, on its way to a picnic with its friends the sensitive cabbage and the comfortable turnip. It came to a pretty flower growing in the field, and thought what a nice centerpiece the flower would make for the picnic cloth. So it wound the flower's stem around itself and pulled, ignoring the flower's cries of pain, until it uprooted the flower. The questionably good potato hurried onward, dragging the flower's fresh corpse, in order to be on time for the picnic.

 

In its haste it rolled right over the dead leaf and fell into the pit. Ouch, ugh, AAHH! It bounced painfully off the steep walls of the pit, and then impaled itself on the sharp stick at the bottom. The stick had not been planted quite straight, however, and the weight of the nominally good potato bent it sideways, so that it stuck out into the pit almost horizontally. The injured good potato bounced and wiggled in agony, until finally it succeeded in slipping off the stake. It jumped up onto the horizontal stick, then jumped again. It bounced on the stick like a diving board, until finally it flipped itself right out of the pit.

 

As the nominally good potato lay gasping on the ground, it spied the bad potato, trying to squirm away. In its rage it leapt again into the air, and landed right on top of the bad potato. It jumped a few more times, then picked up its flower and rolled off to the picnic. The bad potato groaned, "Ohh - ohh - ohh." It had mushy spots now, so it was even more bad. It plotted revenge.

 

My favorite is a little fuzzy in my mind now, but it was something like this:

Quote:

The Tale of Gherkin

Once upon a time there were three cucumber brothers who set out to find their fortunes in the wide world beyond the cucumber patch.

 

The oldest brother hopped up onto the road, rolled across the road, and flopped down into the identical cucumber patch on the other side. He went right to sleep.

 

The middle brother hopped up onto the road, looked down at his older brother, and then stood staring down the long yellow line, wondering whether there was anything more to life. WHUSH! An 18-wheeler flattened him into pale green goo.

 

The youngest brother was named Gherkin. He hopped up onto the road, and gaped in horror at his brother's fate. But then a bright orange carrot buzzed up in a matching Lamborghini. She fluttered her bright green tops at Gherkin. Before he knew it he had hopped in beside her and they were screaming past the bright lights of Vegas.

 

Six months later, though, the Lamborghini is gone, the carrot has gotten mixed up in a bad bunch and died in jail, and Gherkin is working as a bar snack. He's so pickled he doesn't really feel the pain of his life, but he's friends with a martini olive who still has most of her pimento, and it gives him a dull ache to see her get drunk every night. She's gotten used to being spit out again, every time.

 

Finally a fat trucker comes into the bar, reaches for a pickle, and Gherkin's number is up. Just before he gets bitten in half, he hears the trucker say, "Hey, nice big pickles ya got here. Reminds me of this massive cuke I ran over a few months ago, over on the interstate."

 

As these examples make clear, it is also a genre convention for the stories to be idiotic. But they're quite easy to make up, and so popular with children even up to age 12 or so that they'll not only listen to you tell them, they'll leave you in peace for quite some time if you assure them that you're thinking up another one.

[Trenton.]

*puts up a score card with a 10 on it*

 

And you thought of these yourself?

[keira]

Love the stories, SoT. It's like a combination of VeggieTales and the politically-correct fairy tales.