#110 – Write a Story…

…that starts with a piece of gossip.

I was standing with Cera and Preta by the lockers, chatting about our weekend plans, when Ashley walked up looking like a cat that got the canary.  “Oh my god, you will not believe what I just heard.” She blurted out, barely containing her excitement.  All of us turned in expectation to the world-shattering news that had Ashley all a twitter.

“I just heard the craziest thing about Laura Brass.” Ashley said, frantically waving her hands about, “Do you know Bobby Darwin?”

“The new kid from the city?” Cera asked, our curiosity rising.  I hadn’t met him really, but he was really easy to pick out in a crowd.  A complete punk with a bad reputation.  Still, he seemed nice the few times I talked to him.

“Yes!  That weird kid with the purple mohawk and piercings all over his ears.” Ashley said with a gleefully malicious grin, “I just heard from Randy Thorpe who said Meghan Farley saw them smoking weed behind the school and making out.”

“Really?” Cera asked, stunned beyond belief, “Right here at the school?”  Me and her exchanged looks of confusion.  This was the first we’d heard about this rumor…

Ashley gasped with joy, “Can you believe that?  That is so stupid!  Who would do that at the school where you could get caught?  And they did!”

“Who caught them?” Preta wondered, the spiraling of this story making my head spin.  I couldn’t help but wonder who else knew about this story so far.

“Mr. Challenger.” Ashley gushed out, “They’re both going to get expelled from school!  Bobby might be going back to jail!”

“Bobby was in jail?” I blinked a few times, surprised as the plot just thickened more and more.

“I heard he burnt down the science lab in his last school and that’s why he had to move here.” Ashley answered with a smug look on her face.

“That’s really unbelievable…” Preta stammered, “Uhm…do you even know who Laura Brass is?”

Ashley stopped for a moment then shrugged, “Uh, yeah.  She’s that girl with the braces and glasses.”

“That’s Laura Bingle.” Cera told her.

The gossip queen just shrugged it off, “Oh, well whatever.  Does it really matter who she is?”

“To me it does,” I countered, then extended my hand to her, “I’m Laura Brass.”

“And she’s been with us since first break.” Cera added in there, “You might want to check your facts before you go spreading lies, Ash.  It makes you look pretty terrible person.”

The three of us laughed as we walked away from Ashley, leaving her fuming.  Hopefully that will teach her to think before she opened her big mouth…

Behind the Random: I’m kind of in the middle of the gossip deal.  One one hand, I hate spreading gossip about people, especially hurtful things or stuff that just isn’t anybody’s business.  On the other, however, I love input.  So when someone has something on someone else, I’m all ears.  Fortunately, because of my aversion to spreading rumors and gossip, most of what is told me ends with me.  Usually.

#530 – Start a Story with the Line…

…”Everyone whispered about _______, but no one had the courage to talk to her.”

Everyone whispered about Michelle, but no one had the courage to talk to her.  When she would walk down the halls, people would move aside to let her past with care not to touch her.  They avoided making eye contact though that wasn’t hard since she never looked up, her long dark hair shrouding her face.  People would only shuffle in awkward silence until she was gone then begin their whispers again.

It was like this, day after day, ever since that incident.  Everyone knew about it.  It had made newspaper headlines and breaking news announcements.  They knew about the affair she’d had with the teacher.  When the truth finally came out, the teacher lost his job and his marriage.  Eventually, he’d moved out of the city and disappeared.

Michelle didn’t have that luxury though.  She was trapped in this place and everyone knew about her shame.  Michelle couldn’t transfer schools because they knew all about her indiscretion.  Finally, she couldn’t take it and lashed out against the world, angry that she was being punished for a stupid mistake.

Now she walks the halls alone, with no one to stand by her side.  Everyone whispers about the morning she was found in the school, hanging by her neck in the gymnasium.  Nobody talks to her because nobody knows how to tell her she’s dead.

Behind the Random: Soon as I saw the title, I knew this was going to be a ghost story.  It was actually a hard one to write, simply because I’ve been in that head space myself before.  I’ve felt like there was no turning back from the mistakes I’ve made and that it would be better off if the world went on without me.  Luckily for me, I was able to escape it with some logic, luck, and good friends.  Sadly, there are others who can’t shake off the shackles of their past, which is why I try to never hold a persons actions in the past against them so long as they make an effort to ensure they never happen again.  Sometimes, this bites me in the ass.  Other times, it’s worked out for the best.

#225 – Write a Story…

…using four L words: lipstick, lust, loss, locked.

Daniel flipped through his laundry when he came across the shirt he’d been wearing last Saturday night.  Bright as day, the dark red lipstick stuck out on the light blue collar.  This brought a smile to his lips as he recalled that night.

It had started out as typical as any other Saturday night, out with the boys with some drinks and pool.  Daniel had had no intention of hooking up with anyone that night but, as sometimes happens, the last thing you expect takes the night for a wild and unpredictable ride.

Their eyes locked from across the bar and she smiled at him.  Next thing he knows, they’re on the dance floor bumping and grinding.  Daniel had no idea what time his friends took off without him, but he didn’t care.  One thing led to another and playful flirting turned into hot and heavy making out.  She suggested going back to her place, to which Daniel was less than eager to decline.

However, it didn’t go exactly as one would hope.  As they were getting down to business of lust, there was a loud slam as someone came through the front door.  Apparently her muscle bound boyfriend with anger issues was home early.  So out the window Daniel had went, pants in hands and shoes left behind.  A bellowing yell followed him as he disappeared into the night.

Two blocks away and tucked into an alley, Daniel struggled to get his pants back on.  Just as he’d gotten the button done up, a squad car passed by him.  Both officers gave his bare feet a quizzical look but thankfully continued on down the road.

It was a 40 minute walk to get home, maybe a little longer with his sore feet and sober-free mind state. Of course, he made some pretty good time when that stray dog chased after him for several blocks, forcing him over a fence and into someone’s pool.

When he had finally reached his house, he’d discovered that he’d left behind more than his shoes.  His keys had somehow fallen out of his pocket at some point between her house and his.  For a moment, very briefly, he’d considered going all the way back to her house and getting his shoes and keys back.  However, his hazy memory was at a loss as how to get back her house.  With a sigh, Daniel pressed the buzzer to wake his roommate up.

It took another hour or so and by the time Daniel was inside, his skin was freezing cold from the chill night and his wet clothes.  He could swear he saw frost come out of his mouth with every breath.  When Daniel finally got inside, he explained what happened to him and jokes were made and laughs were had.  In the end, Daniel had never been more thankful to crawl into his bed.

As he rubbed at the lipstick with his thumb, something brushed up against his forearm.  It was a piece of folded paper in the breast pocket of the shirt.  Curious, Daniel pulled it out and opened it.  A phone number, written in mascara, greeted him with her name above it.

Daniel shook his head.  If that was the kind of trouble he got into after just one night with her, he didn’t want to imagine what might happen tomorrow.  Still, he couldn’t bring himself to throw it away.  After all, who didn’t need a little excitement in their life now and then.

Behind the Random: At first, I thought I had to somehow write a story using just those four words.  What can I say, I’m not a smart man sometimes.  After that, it was pretty much a simple write up of a scene.  Easy peasy, though it took a bit since I was distracted and all that.

#6 – Write a Story…

…that begins with a ransom note.

“If you ever want to see your kids again, you will do exactly as we say…”

That was the note that was left on their front door two days after their children went missing.  The cops could find no clue of what had happened to them and, until that moment, it was feared the worse.  Officer Smart looked the note over, trying to find some clue in the message about where the kidnappers had taken their victims.

“Follow the orders,” He recommended the father, David, “and when they go to the pick up, we’ll be there to nab them.”

David just smiled, as if enjoying a private joke. “Nah.” He replied, “Let’s wait to see what happens.”

Three more days passed.  Another note on the door appeared.  “Time is running out.  Follow our demands or you’re children will suffer.”

“Sir, you’re kids could be in terrible danger.” Smart told the father, “I implore you to take action against this.”

“Just a few more days.” David just said, that knowing smile on his lips.

Two more days went by with yet another note on the door.  This one was more frantic, scribbled as if in haste.  “Please come get your kids!  We give up!  Just get them out of here.  Even prison is better than this!” The words screamed out, along with an address where they could find the kids.

David let out a sigh, “Well, I guess the vacation is over.  Let’s go get my kids.”

Behind the Random: Ever look at your kids and just think to yourself, “Dammit, why can’t someone kidnap you for a while?  Just a few days, maybe a week?”  Me neither, because that would be a terrible thing to wish, though for me it’s more on the kidnappers than on the kids.

#458 – Write a Children’s Story Set in the Woods.

Once upon a time, Mr. Rabbit was hopping his way through the forest.  It was a bright sunny day out and Mr. Rabbit planned to enjoy as much of the sunshine as he could.  However, his big floppy ears heard something in the distance.

Hippity-hop he went as he set out to track down the far away noise.  In the end, he found Mr. Bear sitting by himself in the middle of a meadow, crying.  “Mr. Bear?  Why are you so sad?” Mr. Rabbit asked.

“I can’t find my friends.” Mr. Bear replied after honking his big furry nose.  “I don’t know where they went.”

Well, this certainly seemed like a mystery Mr. Rabbit could help with.  “Who are your friends?” He asked.

“Mr. Squirrel, Ms. Woodchuck, Mrs. Robin, and Dr. Groundhog.” Mr. Bear answered, “One minute we were all playing together and the next they were gone, leaving me here all by myself.”

“Don’t worry, Mr. Bear.” Mr. Rabbit said, “I’ll help you find them.”

Mr. Bear wiped away his tears with one massive paw, “You will?” He asked, surprised.

“Of course.” Mr. Rabbit said with a big toothy smile, “Now, did you see which way they went?  Maybe I can hear them with my big floppy ears.”

Mr. Bear pointed off towards the edge of the forest.  “I think they went that way.”

Mr. Rabbit turned and flexed his ear muscles as hard as he could, straining to hear something.  There were birds chirping and bees buzzing, but he didn’t hear any of Mr. Bear’s friends.  “Are you sure Mr. Bear?  I don’t hear anything over there.”

“Nevermind, Mr. Rabbit.  I know where they are.” Mr. Bear said.  Suddenly, before Mr. Rabbit could make even the slightest hop, Mr. Bear lunged at him with jaws wide open.  With a great big gulp, he swallowed Mr. Rabbit whole where he joined the others in Mr. Bear’s tummy.

“Thank you, Mr. Rabbit.  You were a good friend.” Mr. Bear said to himself as he sat back down.  Soon, tears welled up in his eyes and he began to cry again, echoing out into the trees.

Eventually, Ms. Beaver waddled up to him with a curious look in her eyes.  “What’s wrong, Mr. Bear?”

Behind the Random: I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, I should never be put in charge of telling kids stories.  I’m a big fan of Aesop’s Fables and the Brothers Grimm classic fairy tales that usually end very poorly for someone.  Sort of where my hard life lessons mentality comes from.

What’s the moral of this story?  Don’t turn your back on a frickin’ bear.

#504 – Choose a Family Story for Which You were not Present…

…Choose the narrator of the piece and write the event in his or her voice.

I don’t remember where we were coming from, I think it was Park Lake or something, but me, my brother and your brother were in the camper while grandpa drove us home.  Me and your brother dared my brother to get into the cupboard and he actually did it.  As soon as the door was closed, we tied a rope around the handle so he couldn’t get out.

Suddenly, we were on the gravel road and the whole camper is just shaking and jumping all over the place.  We can hear my brother getting all slammed around inside the cupboard and he’s crying to get out.  Finally, we hit this big bump and we can hear his body actually hit the bottom of the cupboard with a thud.  Now he’s pounding on the door, trying to get it open yelling, “Let me out!  Let me out!”

So we untie the rope and the door opens up and my brother’s laying there inside the cupboard all flipped upside down.  He looked pissed.  We asked if he was okay and he just looks at us and says, “The hell do you think?!”

Behind the Random: This is one of my favorite stories my cousin told me about the torment he and my brother put his through.  They were evil masterminds and would constantly torment me and others.  The story does lose some of it’s flair though because my cousin is very active when he talks, especially when he tells a story, and it really emphasizes the tale when he’s throwing his body around.

#523 – Write a ‘Knock Knock’ Joke…

…Then use it in a story.

It’s Sunday evening and we’re doing our weekly family game night.  All of us are gathered around the table, the Game of Life in the middle.  Not that old school one, but the new version that decided to add other little bits and parts to make it more or less interesting, depending on your mood I suppose.

It’s my wife’s turn and she rolls the dice, since the spinner decided to call it quits on the second play through, and she moves her little pink car with her little pink and blue family in tow.  After landing on a Life square, she picks up a Life card which issues a challenge to her.  Each player will try to make her laugh.  If they succeed, she will pay them such and such amount.  If she remains mirthless, she wins dough.

First it’s her son, who is put on the spot and verges on near meltdown as he wracks his brain trying to think of something funny on the spot.  He fails.  Next is her daughter, who proceeds to tell a nonsensical sentence with no punchline.  She almost smiles just by the cute effort, but my wife manages to hold on.

Finally, her eyes fall on me and I can tell she’s worried.  I smile, having already prepared my line.

“Knock knock.”

Tentatively, she asks, “Who’s there?”

“You.”

She’s barely able to get the line “You who?” out before breaking down into laughter.

Triumphantly, I extend an open hand for payment as I grin widely, “Big summer blowout.”

Behind the Random: There was a short span of time that my wife and I were quoting Frozen at each other constantly.  So when I had a chance to use that Knock Knock joke against her, I had to jump at the chance.  Unless you’ve seen the movie, or at least the scene that line is from, you won’t find it all that funny.  So I’m just going to leave this here.

#245 – Write a Story…

…that ends with the line “And this is the room where it happened.”

It happened too fast for them to do anything.  One minute, it was quiet.  Suddenly, all hell broke lose as hands tore up through the floorboards, grasping at whatever they could wrap their decaying fingers around.  There were screams and cries for help as people were dragged downwards into the darkness below.

I ran for the door, barely avoiding getting grabbed by both ghouls and their victims.  I wasn’t thinking.  I just wanted to get out.  Just as I made it to the exit, I felt someone get a hold of my ankle.  I turned around and saw Tracey.  Her eyes were wide with fear and she mouthed the words “Help.”  I wanted to, but I could only sit there frozen as she was sucked into the moaning shadows.

My mind shut down then.  I just curled up next to the door and listened as the screams went silent one after another, only to be replaced by the sound of bodies being torn apart.  Occasionally, I could hear a fight break out between the creatures, each trying to get more than the other.  Other than that, there was nothing else.

I don’t know how long I sat there, staring down into the gaping hole that threatened to swallow me whole.  I didn’t move, too afraid to get their attention and find myself sharing the same fate as all those other people.  Maybe I fell asleep, I don’t know, but suddenly the sun was in the window and the light illuminated the hole.  The monsters, whatever they were, were gone.  So was everyone else.

Feeling numb, I stumbled out and made my way down to the Sheriff’s Office and brought you back here.  I know what it looks like and I know how it sounds, but I swear it’s true and this is the room where it happened.

Behind the Random: This one just screamed horror story.  Maybe that makes it too easy, but I like easy today.

#157 – Start a Story With…

…”That’s what she wants most in the world.”

“That’s what she wants most in the world.” I tell my best friend Mike.  He lets out a low whistle, impressed.

“That’s not exactly a small order.” He says, stepping back and folding his arms across his chest with a shake of his head, “How are you going to manage that?”

I run my fingers through my hair with a shrug, “No idea.  I’ve pondered and pondered, but so far every idea I’ve had just has more obstacles.  And if it doesn’t happen just right…” I trail off.

“You’re a dead man.” Mike finishes for me, giving me a look of grim resolution, “Anything I can do to help?”

I kick a stone at my feet and watch it race across the pavement.  It feels like my chances of succeeding at my task are rolling away with the pebble.  “You have access to unlimited funds?” I ask, semi-hopeful but more sarcastically.  Mike barely had a cent to his name on most good days, let alone anything that could help me.

As I suspect, Mike pulls his pockets out to show them empty, “Sorry man, not today.  Maybe tomorrow.”

“Right.” I reply, “What about connections?  You know a guy who knows a girl who once dated a guy that knows a thing or two about a kid who can help us?”

Mike scratches his chin for a moment as he ponders the question.  It’s no secret Mike knows people all over the city and maybe even beyond, but the idea that he might know someone that can help with this issue is almost laughable.  After a moment of flipping the idea around in his head, Mike shrugs, “Nope.  Nobody I can think of.”

My shoulders slump and I frown.  “Yeah, me neither.”

“What about Santa?” Mike suggests with that stupid grin of his.  I resist the urge to hit him, only to fail and punch him in the arm.  “Ow.” He mutters, “S’only a joke.”

I flop down on the ground and lean back against the wall, eyes closed.  “I’m just gonna say it’s not happening.  I mean, where am I going to get a hundred ducks from.”

“Ducks?” Mike asks, blinking in surprise, “I thought you said bucks.  I was actually going to ask what the problem was.  You should have that.”

I look up at him and I can’t help but let out a chuckle.  “Heh, no.  Ducks.  She wants to start a duck farm.”

Mike laughs out loud, “Oh that’s funny.  Ducks…that’s a completely different story then.”

I perk up, “So you can help somehow?”

Mike stops and shrugs, “Well, no.  Not exactly…” He states with a shrug and I facepalm.

Behind the Random: Again, I didn’t know how I was going to end this one so just wrote until it came to me.  Originally, it was going to be a million ducks, but then I realized just how many ducks that is (about a million of them) and figured that was a lot.  So I downsized.  A hundred is still a lot of ducks, but it sounds better than a million.  That’s a whole lot of quackers.  This is also an attempt at writing in the present tense, which is hard when you’ve always worked in the past tense.  I probably missed a word or two, but whatever.  I’ll let my editor worry about that.

#331 – Write a Story Based on the Title of your Favorite Song.

Always smiling.  That’s how they saw me.  With a grin on my lips and a witty remark on my tongue, it’s easy to see why I’m so loved to be hated.  A dance, a tumble, and a dramatic bow to the masses, I adore their applause and their dagger-like stares even more so.

For you see, everyone knows that only a fool believes he knows everything.  And that is my trade, my profession, my calling.  The nobles look on me like a pest to be ignored when I’m doing my duty and the peasants see me as one of their own, taking pity on the discourtesy heaped upon my head.  So I sit and I learn and I play the part of the idiot, though any person with more than half a brain can tell you there’s a vast difference between a moron and a fool.

Alas, however, it’s not the easiest life and certainly not for just anyone.  It is often fraught with loneliness since no one would think to spend a fortnight or two with someone who’s life is only as good as the next joke he tells.  A heart like an anchor and a mind like a trap, that’s the only way to get anywhere in this life.

“But fool, you poor idiot, don’t you see that this doesn’t have to be the only life for you?” You may ask of me, gesturing vehemently like a burning chimpanzee.  While true, I must admit, I submit this question back on to you, “If not me, then who would do this duty and could they perform it as well as I do?”

So leave me if you must, as all the others do, and be careful not to let the door strike your posterior on your way out.  I have no need for you company or advice unless it’s tips on how to make the perfect beef stew.  Leave me to my tricks and quips and verbal jabs, for they are the only friends I need in this world.  My armor against your criticism and anger, warding off the pain and hatred of this world.

And when it is over and my life is at last at an end, I’ll tell one final joke to end this Joker’s Song.

Behind the Random: The Joker’s Song by Miracle of Sound has become a fairly recent favorite song of mine.  It’s actually a tribute to the relationship between the Joker and Batman, but I like to avoid using already existing characters unless the prompt instructs me to use them.  And a monologue isn’t a story, but dammit it was just coming along so nicely and oddly poetic that I had to finish it.