Last week’s challenge: “That’s My New Band Name.”
I want to give someone a copy of 500 Ways To Tell A Better Story.
As always, you gotta dance for your dinner, though. It’s fuck-or-walk around these parts, hoss.
Put your pants on. I didn’t mean it like that. It’s a metaphor. Or something.
ANYWAY.
You’re going to tell a story in three sentences.
You will post this story here, in the comments below.
Keep it under 100 words.
You only get one entry.
I will give away three copies of the book in either ePub, MOBI or PDF format. Your choice.
You’ve got one week. Due by noon EST, July 6th, 2012.
Three sentences. Beginning, middle, end, 1, 2, 3.
Do it.
Amy Severson says:
My fear is that I’ll end up in a culvert, broken and soaked in blood and check-out while my screams echo inside my head. It’s not death so much as the pain that scares me, and it’s all I can think about while the old jarhead across the desk gives me his honor and duty speil. Lucky bastard will probably die in his sleep.
June 29, 2012 — 11:21 AM
Aubrey says:
I walked across the street to say goodbye to my mother. I didn’t see the bus. Goodbye mother.
June 29, 2012 — 11:24 AM
Mike (@NewGuyMike) says:
Henri ran through the door at breakneck speed, stopping short with the dull jab of a gun barrel to his chest.
Angela smiled sadly as he felt her gun bruising his ribs already.
“Fuck,” one of them sighed.
June 29, 2012 — 11:41 AM
Darlene Underdahl says:
When death is imminent, what is there to fear?
The old dog refuses the safety of the house.
The next morning, it’s fifty yards away, lifeless eyes forever locked on the home of the loved ones.
June 29, 2012 — 11:46 AM
Adrienne says:
Joe wonders how he managed to lose Kaylee in the night-woods, having been through this so many times before. Kaylee hides, watches and feels his confusion; she uses it to make her next move, doubling back, fast, to surprise him. In the split second before his heart enters her brutal hands, he realizes she’s much different from the others.
June 29, 2012 — 11:57 AM
Jamie McCoard (@Tevyn) says:
With only my uneventful life of selfishness, I found myself at hell’s door. Floating in the darkness I tried to push through the weight of my collapsing world in order to collect just one thought before there were none left.
“Why?”
** ** I guess it’s easier to write three sentences when death is involved. Death is often a brief end. Good luck to all!
June 29, 2012 — 12:18 PM
Avri Burger says:
Ralph released the button, shrugged when nothing happened, then resumed mopping the floor. “What the hell,” he said when he finished, and went back to press the button on Dr. Einstein’s Temporal Reset Machine one more time. Ralph released the button, shrugged when nothing happened, then resumed mopping the floor.
June 29, 2012 — 12:21 PM
Stephen R Smith says:
June lifted the freezer lid and tossed a handful of photographs inside.
“You said ‘Fuck me if I’m lying’?” She met his stare, watched his confidence melt away.
As the freezer lid dropped she added, “You’re fucked now, aren’t you?”
June 29, 2012 — 12:33 PM
Johnoghue says:
Hm, where are my pants.
They seem to have fled from me.
Tell them I hate them.
June 29, 2012 — 1:32 PM
Scott Fitzgerald Gray says:
[Mr. Wendig, you are a devious villain. But you probably knew that already.]
She stumbled back as he lurched up again from the bloodstained flagstones, blunted fingers shredding sheets of black mold where they clung to crumbling brick .
“How many times do I need to kill you?” she whispered, voice twisting through the sealed silence of the crypt.
“How many times did I tell you I loved you?” he said.
June 29, 2012 — 1:47 PM
Peter Schaefer says:
In a rage he hit her, and she gave her consent. She wanted to repeat it; he wanted to repent. He could only see the damage, and not see what it meant.
June 29, 2012 — 2:13 PM
Brandi says:
I already own the book (brownie points, right?) but for shits and giggles:
I feel the water still throbbing sluggish but cool through my fingers, remember the water may have snakes, and reluctantly pull out my hand. At least the baby alligator I just rescued from poachers stands a chance. Now if I can just get back to the truck, remove the bullet from my bicep, and hit the highway before they catch up with me.
June 29, 2012 — 2:15 PM
Lenny Wojt says:
The rain tapped like spiders feet. Tears on a pillow. Bathroom light left on.
June 29, 2012 — 2:23 PM
AJ Bradley says:
Despite our falling out, I’ve always loved Agnes like a mother.
She found me in the woods, led there by the Owl; and so Agnes believed I was, quite literally, a gift from the gods, or goddess as it were.
I know now that she was wrong, but I never had the chance to tell her so.
June 29, 2012 — 2:43 PM
Tony Southcotte (@tsouthcotte) says:
The housebot analyzed the patch data, detailing her new emotional output and sensual capabilities. The first feeling of excitement fluttered through her system. The second, dread, as her salivating owner undid his belt buckle.
June 29, 2012 — 2:46 PM
RR Kovar says:
When the number of his burner phone displayed, she failed to do a basic perimeter check, take off her ridiculous heels, grab a weapon, or retreat into the office building where she had been working a job for a month longer than the job should require.
She met the silence on his end with irritation, then threats, then fear, and finally, finally remembered her training and looked for a potential attacker.
He disconnected as he crossed the street, allowing her to see him coming and wondering whether he’d be better off kissing or killing his once-promising student.
June 29, 2012 — 2:49 PM
Ty Johnston says:
A previous version was published a few years back at everydayfiction.com. I’ve rewritten it some to fit the rules here.
The note was pinned to the blouse of a dead woman surrounded by broken glass on the sidewalk outside a twenty-story hotel. It read, “This was the only way to get help because they said they would shoot me if I tried anything. For the love of God, my children are being held hostage in room 1828.”
June 29, 2012 — 3:12 PM
Debra Sue says:
She screamed her soul right out of her body and into the woods behind Wyngate in the pre-dawn hours of July 30th. Ten months had passed and she wondered if it would ever return to her, or had nature simply pushed it on into the Heavens. Would the American flag ever mean as much to her as it once had?
June 29, 2012 — 3:22 PM
Lee Auburn says:
“Ello, Mr Earwig… what are you doing? come on, you can meet my Mum!”
“I’m sorry she didn’t like you very much, she said I have to take you back home now, can you remember where you little house was?”
“I know you don’t want to go to heaven, but we have looked everywhere for your mummy and children, I’m sad too, you’re going to be all lonely out here on your own, I wouldn’t like that… don’t worry I will use my best smashy stone.”
June 29, 2012 — 3:31 PM
rosefiend says:
As soon as Dave opened the door, his blind date Madge strode in, grabbed him in a headlock, and demolished the furniture by swinging him to and fro.
When she released him, he asked woozily, “Would you like some Earl Grey tea?” and Madge yelled, “Hell yeah! Whoooooooooooo!”, muscular arms held high over her head.
So Dave slipped a Mickey Finn into her drink, then dragged the snoring Madge to the curb, vowing never again to use the WWE dating service.
June 29, 2012 — 5:12 PM
Mme G says:
I thought I’d do something a bit different, so inspired was I by your picture at the head of the page, so I’ve put my story in a picture.
Hope this is okay. If not, i’ll take it down and put it up in words only.
June 29, 2012 — 5:30 PM
Mme G says:
Darnit! That didn’t work! Ah well, this is the story. If you want to see the picture instead, you can see it here”.
He’s been dry for fifteen months; clean, sober and in complete control. Being in control is easy when you have no choice, and when you’re inside being sober is the only choice. He knows the first thing he’ll do when he gets out is drink a four-pack, then it’ll all start again.
June 29, 2012 — 5:32 PM
AM Gray says:
They met, on an intersection during a summer storm when her skirt blew up and in frantically pushing it down; she walked straight into him and spilt his coffee all over his crisp, white shirt. They connected, at an apology lunch because lunches were safer, that ended with them tumbling into bed in a passionate afternoon of lovemaking. They shattered, separated by lawyers and barristers and walls that they didn’t remember building.
June 29, 2012 — 5:35 PM
Casz Brewster says:
The humidity hung thick in the room, the din of filters, solar lights and other Herpetology-care equipment. Moving as if she was carrying a tower of china teacups, she removed the adolescent tiger snake from its warm abode and slid it into the pillow case. She slunk towards the scientist’s lounge where her colleague napped.
June 29, 2012 — 5:45 PM
Jared TL Caracciolo says:
She twists the focus of the .45 from her temple to the minuscule hairs sprouting between his brows. His clear blue eyes plead but she sees straight through them to his putrid core. In that moment she decides she’d far prefer to feel the heat in hand after a kill-shot.
June 29, 2012 — 6:30 PM
Matt Sipes says:
I had felt it since I was young. An obscure tingling; something not right that permeated my repeated attempts of feigning ignorance to it, whatever it was. The night of the dream, where I had seen my killer, led me to understand that I had been, with purpose, reincarnated to a new life, and when I had taken my past killer’s life with a well-executed plan of revenge, I was now at peace because I knew whatever deity that governs the ether and our tiny speck, meant for me to inflict retribution so both the divine and mortal could rest.
June 29, 2012 — 6:34 PM
Exi says:
I couldn’t survive the separation. Neither could she. I wipe the hatchet.
June 29, 2012 — 6:35 PM
Damien Kelly says:
When I learned to dance,
I was like a storm made of fireworks. Nobody even tried to touch me because I was screaming,
“you will be broken, you will be burned.”
I was.
June 29, 2012 — 7:01 PM
Barbara Engel says:
The man stood on the dock in the sun and the smoke of his lit cigarette curled gently over his hand as he watched the emergency rescue team lift his son from the water. The sucess of his career hung about his shoulders in the form of a flawlessly tailored suit with bejewled cufflinks and diamond tie pin, but his face was ragged with loss. “I am a poor man.” he said.
June 29, 2012 — 7:02 PM
FKhat says:
Another tick of the Station clock cracked down the alley hailing renewed shrieks and wet bone crunching. The groaning masses shuffled closer, writhing in frenzy. We were wrong this time, God help us all for being so very wrong.
June 29, 2012 — 7:11 PM
LD Silver says:
The scream of sirens confirms my suspicions.
“Will you come with me now,” she extends her hand, “or continue living this boring life that someone else chose for you?”
I hesitate for a few moments, then the death rattle of my old life crosses my lips, and I grab her hand and run.
June 29, 2012 — 7:33 PM
Caleb Herman says:
*100 words exactly*
I woke up in hell; a dark and shapeless place, where memory and pain run together into a cocktail that tastes like blood and motor oil.
I heard her voice; she said she wanted me to come back; she pleaded, screamed and sobbed for me, the last thing I heard her say was “I’m sorry”.
I had to get up; I ripped and clawed at the edges of that hell, trying to find something real I could hang onto; anything to pull myself out, then I felt her hand in mine, my eyes opened and I saw her say… “Daddy”.
June 29, 2012 — 9:12 PM
Ken says:
He sat there, waiting for it to happen as it did only once a year. She appeared ragged and ashen, a soft luminescence to her skin and a pale glow in her eyes, lighting the room softly as she wandered, looking for something, possibly looking for him, but all the while oblivious to the man sitting on the couch gazing at her with a sweet yet terribly heartbroken smile. It wasn’t scary- it wasn’t a dream- it wasn’t romance; it was his own personal ghost story.
June 29, 2012 — 10:13 PM
David Z says:
The panic recedes and I force my eyes back open, both praying and scared shitless that the Party has finished with my body.
The business of the clinic drips all around me with its clatter of pens and suture lip scissors being set down or picked up, its solid-colored staff taking measured steps from place to place with sick purpose.
I risk a look down and, sure enough, the bulging bandages under my pants mean at fifteen years old I’ve been judged unfit to ever contribute to an overpopulated nation’s goddamned restricted gene pool.
June 29, 2012 — 10:33 PM
KRVeale says:
I knew he was an android when he came in my mouth, tasting of chlorine and bath salts.
So I killed him and put him with the others.
~~~~~~~~
Okay, so that’s cheating because it’s two sentences and probably doesn’t follow the Beginning/Middle/End thing. But I’ve ground to a complete halt and nothing I’ve tried over the last few hours has lived up to that initial two-sentence premise. Which came to be in a dream, weirdly enough.
June 29, 2012 — 11:07 PM
Peter says:
It was some kind of bodhisattva in New Mexico that convinced me I must murder my ego, haunted by his words I take initiative, pack my bags, and leave. For many days and nights I travel, it’s hot as shit and I’m always itchy, having failed to bring a change of clothes – life is pretty miserable and at times I grow weary of my journey. Finally I come upon him – I slay him in his tracks, come home, and relax.
June 29, 2012 — 11:47 PM
Anna Lewis says:
Last Call
“Jesus, how many obnoxious, drunken, out-of-control parties can those asshole neighbors throw in a month, anyway?”
“I dunno, but, goddamnit, this is gonna be the last time they keep ME up until dawn. Hand me my sword.”
June 30, 2012 — 3:24 AM
Danzier says:
The storm roared through the forest, shaking trunks and branches; it ripped leaves from their moorings and sent them sailing across the sky. And then, its branches caught in the tempest and twisted into insane tangles, the biggest, oldest tree in the forest snapped. The crown crashed down, ripping limbs from other trees until it finally caught in the crook of another ancient oak and its tumble was arrested.
June 30, 2012 — 3:27 AM
Will says:
He took up arms against the Gravediggers; went against their iron clad law just to see his dear sweet Charlotte again, bastards thought they could just take her away from him.
They weren’t too happy about it, sent out their strongest men to make an example out of the fool who thought he could go up against an empire; publicly, they proclaimed him to be a ‘rebel’ who sought to destroy the great order of the world.
Didn’t think they’d make a martyr out of an old fool, but they did; now their grip is beginning to wear thin, and the populace now sees their ‘protectors’ for what they really are.
June 30, 2012 — 4:29 AM
Charlie R says:
Three silver coins lay glittering on the table’s dull surface, illuminated only by a single candle. The moment passed breathlessly and lingered forever as the two men held eye contact. A shot rang out and the coins were swept from the table by a scarred and blood-spattered hand.
June 30, 2012 — 5:39 AM
gary pettigrew says:
As I stumbled, bloodsoaked, from the classroom into the hands of the waiting SWAT officer, I thought about Mrs Newton. Just before the slaughter started she had one final piece of writing advice. Always start the story as late as possible.
June 30, 2012 — 7:25 AM
James Gregory says:
Pouring rain and surfing in the Pacific Northwest. Murky waters are a feeding ground for sharks. Something surfaces out of the water and quickly disappears in the corner of my eye as I paddle out to the next wave.
June 30, 2012 — 9:38 AM
Susan B. Cogan says:
Bob: I don’t think I’m interested, thanks anyway, and I’m closing the door now.
Gary: No, seriously, these are the next big thing!
Sound FX: buzz, swoosh, plop
June 30, 2012 — 11:04 AM
JM Cogdell says:
I walk among rows of trees withered and bare where once limbs bowed to the ground heavy with fruit listening for ghosts; longing to hear the laughter that once rang out mingling with the chug of his tractor.
I pick, from the dirt, a hard-shriveled apple; glancing up at the barren tree, I share her pain knowing he’s no longer here to sow life or bring on the harvest. I wipe the dust from my hands and turn away; maybe someday I’ll raze the whole damn place and plant peaches.
June 30, 2012 — 2:06 PM
Ben K. says:
The bullets rain in to the old bell tower, the air sprays with brick chipped at the openings, and it all ricochets with a flat sound off the bells; the riflemen are getting better faster. One of them will get lucky soon enough. Bradford may still come through with lawyers, guns or money, but not matter what, the long road that started on a desperate patch of land outside Fort Smith will end here at the lonely mission of Tapalpa Jalisco.
June 30, 2012 — 3:52 PM
PKgesic says:
“Do you love me?” she asked, before her eyes fluttered shut for the last time and regrets crushed his heart.
“Don’t fall in love with me,” he warned to the last in a long line of sanctuaries from the aching wilderness of his regret.
“I love you,” he said as the last edges of regret faded in her gaze and his heart fluttered into life anew.
June 30, 2012 — 4:22 PM
Jenny says:
Wedding dress for sale. Size three. Never been worn.
June 30, 2012 — 6:44 PM