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Showing posts with label Story Improv. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Story Improv. Show all posts

Friday, February 17, 2012

Fiction Friday: Jan=Feb Story Improv!

How much further can this go?
Forgive me but I simply don't want to see this one end. So January's Story Improv is now February's Improv and will remain up through the end of the month. I realize this means newcomers have more to read through before adding to the story, but oh my gosh! I have to find out what happened to Brandon! And what he and Marianne did. Was there a double-cross, a murder?? I must know! So below is the full text of the story thus far. Let's see what you all do with it from here. I bet it's gooood!

Hurry, hurry, I'm on the edge of my seat!

photo taken from HERE

Marianne sat in the green wicker chair with her mug of spiced cider warming her hands. The mountain breeze brought a few tendrils of hair swirling into her eyes. She tucked them back behind her ear and adjusted the collar of her heavy robe. Early mornings at the lake-front cabin had been her favorite time the last forty years, and today was no different. Though everything else in her life seemed to have changed overnight.

 Lee Carver said...
Her sister Jessica's call over the Christmas season began a whirlwind. After the recipe swap, after the shared sadness that Dad wasn't with us this year, she made a strange comment. She had seen someone at the little tourist store in town that looked so much like Brandon. She had called his name. He looked up, smiled slightly, then nodded. "Sorry. You have me confused with someone else." Then he put down the carving of a deer and left without buying anything. My heart pounded with sudden hope. Brandon, alive and in Forest Glen? How could that be?

Julie Arduini said...

Marianne returned the warm drink to her reading table and picked up the yellowed paper clippings.

Brandon's death notice.

His obituary.

An article, complete with a quote from the police, explaining his death.

The proof was before her that Brandon was gone. Yet Jessica's story nagged at her.

The cider grew cold, but Marianne's resolve heightened. She was going to find out the truth, once and for all.

Pat Iacuzzi said...

After setting up a date with Jessica for coffee at Tim Horton's, Marianne changed into a comfortable sapphire blue sweater and her tan slacks. She stared into the mirror. Her escape from the city hadn't improved her looks any. She still looked tired and drawn.

She yanked out the band that held her ragged ponytail,and ran a comb through her auburn bob. Why she'd kept her hair in the style and length Brandon preferred she wasn't sure. After all he was gone wasn't he? Marianne swallowed, her throat tight. And if he wasn't....
If he wasn't, why had he come back?

She grabbed her keys and purse, and headed for the kitchen. Just as she'd dumped some kibbles for Charlie and Dibs, she heard a car pull up in the drive. She brushed aside the curtain.

The police? What were they doing here?

A sharp rap on the door echoed through her tiny cabin and the sound sent chills scurrying up her spine. Quickly she let go of the curtains. She set down the bag of kibbles and sucked in a deep breath. A strand of hair fell across her features, escaping the ponytail and annoying her again. She exhaled, brushed at the hair and then marched from the kitchen to the front door. Deep breaths. That's all she needed. If she didn't look afraid, maybe they wouldn't guess what she'd done. What Brandon had done.Jessica R. Patch said...
"Marianne McDermot?" The officer took his hat off and glanced behind her. He'd find nothing here. Not in the cabin.

"Yes."

"I'm officer Townsend. Could I ask you a few questions?" His smile made his warm, brown eyes crinkle around the edges.

"Is something wrong?" Any moment and her voice was going to betray her secrets. And Brandon's.

He ran his tongue along his upper teeth and let out a long sigh from his nose. "Well that depends...How long have you known Brandon Melton was alive?"
Susan said...
Her fingers tightened on the doorknob as she fought to stay upright.

"I have no idea what you're talking about. Nothing's changed in the five years since you were last on my doorstep. Brandon'd dead--no matter how I wish differently."

Officer Townsend peered around her shoulder. "Mind if we come in?"

"Actually, I was just leaving."

He straightened and held her gaze, watching. "Maybe another time." He handed her his card. "We have reason to believe that Brandon may have faked his death. Call me if he tries to contact you."

"He won't. Because he's dead."

His hand didn't move until she took his card. Marianne watched them stroll to their car and back down her drive. She stood in the frigid breeze until they disappeared from sight. Then she slammed her door and raced to her room.

The yellow antique chair that once belonged to Brandon's grandmother sat in the corner. She dragged it to her closet, climbed up and stretched to reach the top shelf. Her fingers touched the cold metal box.

Wednesday, February 15, 2012

January's Improv Revealed

Everyone loves the Improv. Unfortunately, it gets buried in new posts long before the story ever reaches "The End". I'm experimenting with different ways to facilitate these, but in the meantime here's January's.  If you feel inspired, wondering where it would have gone from here, please feel free to go ahead and add to it in the comments! (I'm kinda hoping you do because I'm dying to know what comes next.) 

Enjoy!

January's Story Improv

Marianne sat in the green wicker chair with her mug of spiced cider warming her hands. The mountain breeze brought a few tendrils of hair swirling into her eyes. She tucked them back behind her ear and adjusted the collar of her heavy robe. Early mornings at the lake-front cabin had been her favorite time the last forty years, and today was no different. Though everything else in her life seemed to have changed overnight.
 Lee Carver said...
Her sister Jessica's call over the Christmas season began a whirlwind. After the recipe swap, after the shared sadness that Dad wasn't with us this year, she made a strange comment. She had seen someone at the little tourist store in town that looked so much like Brandon. She had called his name. He looked up, smiled slightly, then nodded. "Sorry. You have me confused with someone else." Then he put down the carving of a deer and left without buying anything. My heart pounded with sudden hope. Brandon, alive and in Forest Glen? How could that be?

Julie Arduini said...

Marianne returned the warm drink to her reading table and picked up the yellowed paper clippings.

Brandon's death notice.

His obituary.

An article, complete with a quote from the police, explaining his death.

The proof was before her that Brandon was gone. Yet Jessica's story nagged at her.

The cider grew cold, but Marianne's resolve heightened. She was going to find out the truth, once and for all.

Pat Iacuzzi said...

After setting up a date with Jessica for coffee at Tim Horton's, Marianne changed into a comfortable sapphire blue sweater and her tan slacks. She stared into the mirror. Her escape from the city hadn't improved her looks any. She still looked tired and drawn.

She yanked out the band that held her ragged ponytail,and ran a comb through her auburn bob. Why she'd kept her hair in the style and length Brandon preferred she wasn't sure. After all he was gone wasn't he? Marianne swallowed, her throat tight. And if he wasn't....
If he wasn't, why had he come back?

She grabbed her keys and purse, and headed for the kitchen. Just as she'd dumped some kibbles for Charlie and Dibs, she heard a car pull up in the drive. She brushed aside the curtain.

The police? What were they doing here?

Saturday, January 7, 2012

January's Story Improv

It's been a long time since I've done one of these. I thought we'd have a little fun this week. Read the story opening below, and add the next few lines in the comments. Be sure to read all the comments as the story grows so that our tale makes sense. Since this week's upcoming clash at COTT is about Death, let's see if we can work that in. Who knows, together we could write the most compelling excerpt of all!

(I'll leave this open awhile, providing links back to it at the top of future posts so it's easy to find. Feel free to invite friends to join in too.)

***
Marianne sat in the green wicker chair with her mug of spiced cider warming her hands. The mountain breeze brought a few tendrils of hair swirling into her eyes. She tucked them back behind her ear and adjusted the collar of her heavy robe. Early mornings at the lake-front cabin had been her favorite time the last forty years, and today was no different. Though everything else in her life seemed to have changed overnight.

Friday, October 7, 2011

Fiction Friday: In The Desert

Ready to write some flash fiction, party style? I'll give you the first line, and you take it from there! Make sure and read the comments to see where the story is going, and then have some fun! This post will be open all weekend. Can't wait to see what you all come up with!!
***

Alone in the desert, Arielle Davies shrivels and cracks in the baking sun. Tongue thick, and working like sandpaper against her bleeding lips, she sinks to her knees in the sand--a million points of fire searing into her legs.

"God," she croaks, her voice scarcely discernable to her own ears. How much time had passed? And how much longer before she'd die?

Friday, September 2, 2011

Fiction Friday: Story Time!

Who's going to help me write this story?

I thought it would be fun to write a Fairy Tale. This might be difficult because we might conclude all the good ones have been written already. But I think you're a talented enough bunch to do it! I'll leave it up all weekend. Will you give it a whirl? Let's go...

Once upon a time, Princess Lilly sat in her castle and gazed across the rare flower gardens of her estate, the fragrant apple orchards, the clear lakes, and the crests of green hills stretching as far as her eye could see, and thought to herself...

Friday, August 26, 2011

Story Improv: Miss Finch

Welcome to the results day for last weekend's Story Improv!
*Contributing Authors:

A passing horse and buggy splashed muddy water over Tracy's boots, soaking the hem of her dress. She paid it no heed. Gathering up her skirts, she confidently trudged across the soggy road, not bothering to avoid the puddles. That fool of a brother of hers had better not try to stop her this time. She had no intention of letting Samuel get away with this uncivilized behavior--business owner or not.

His behavior was getting out of hand and it was about to ruin her life. After all, who wanted to marry into a family of lunatics? Tracy wanted to marry and have children, all women did. She was eighteen. Most of her friends were married or at least engaged by now. It was almost too late for her. Soon she would be on the shelf and her life would be over.

Tracy made plenty sure when she opened the door to the mercantile that Samuel could gauge her mood with the slam.

"Got a bee in your bonnet?" He didn't even look up when she stormed in.

"How dare you? My students need those McGuffey readers? I gave you my order and the money. It's your job to follow through and order those books."

Tracy's green eyes focused on nothing but Samuel. He fidgeted with the ledger, looked up, and then chuckled at the firecracker of a woman in front of him.


The flames shooting from her eyes made him rethink his mirth.

"I'm sorry, Sis. I sent in the order; I know I did." He prayed she wouldn't be able to tell he was lying. He couldn't tell her that Thomas Radwell had made him cancel the order. She already disliked the man; this would only make it worse. But he owed Thomas his life and that was more important than a simple book order, wasn't it?


She just continued staring the way she always did, until he had to force himself not to squirm like a worm on a hook. Lord, he hated it when she did that. He considered telling her about Mr. Radwell and letting them fight it out themselves. That could be entertaining, he thought for a brief moment. They fought like cats and dogs every time they were together. It was very... passionate...

"If you'd of sent it in, it'd be here by now. Now fess up."

A breeze lifted her bonnet from where it hung down her back.

"Good afternoon, Miss Finch, and how is my lovely bird this afternoon?" Thomas Radwell's broad shoulders filled the door.

"About to peck my eye out." Samuel chuckled.


Tracy turned to face him as she carefully schooled her expression to hide the sudden racing of her stupid heart. "Mr. Radwell," she replied, inclining her head slightly. "Please excuse me. I have business to attend to." "Perhaps I may be of some assistance." Mr. Radwell replied as he followed her out the door and into the street. He smiled as he observed her straight-as-a-rod posture; she was beautiful when she was angry...

*Have a suggestion for a new Story Starter? Email me at Michelle_Massaro@hotmail.com.

Friday, August 19, 2011

Story Improv: Historical Romance

We're back with another chance to use our cooperative imaginations. Scroll down to read last week's full story. Let's just get right to it, shall we?

A passing horse and buggy splashed muddy water over Tracy's boots, soaking the hem of her dress. She paid it no heed. Gathering up her skirts, she confidently trudged across the soggy road, not bothering to avoid the puddles. That fool of a brother of hers had better not try to stop her this time. She had no intention of letting Samuel get away with this uncivilized behavior--business owner or not.

Into the Depths

Last week's Story Improv was really great! Here is the result, written by:



Mask, check. Tank, check. Underwater camera, check.

Forty-five minutes was all she had. Sabrina perched on the edge of the boat, her flippered feet dangling above the swooshing sea. She stared into the fathomless depths. It was down there somewhere. And she had to find it.


In the breath she took before diving from Mac's fishing boat, Sabrina pushed away the heavy sensation of pure fear that seized her. "I have to do this! Mac would have done it for me!"

Two weeks had gone by since Mac's death. No way he would go diving alone, and definitely not without checking his tanks to make sure they were full. This was the last place he'd been exploring--the last place they'd been exploring together. They were so close. She turned around and fell backward into the mirky waters. She wasn't one to dive alone, either, but she couldn't trust anyone. Something had gone wrong, and she was going to find the evidence to prove it.

Her gaze adjusted to the vast darkness of aqua and shadow, streams of afternoon sun filtering into endless sea. No treasure was worth his life. Even the last known resting place of The Queen's Dagger and its limitless mystery. Treasure? Death? Somehow she knew she wasn't alone in these waters.

Sabrina swam along slowly at first, allowing her vision to adjust to the murky water. Her skin prickled, and she knew without a single doubt that she wasn't alone. Someone or something shared this hazy water world with her. She paused, floating in the soundless deep for a heartbeat...two...three...every nerve screaming to return topside.

She refused to give into the fear that threatened to overwhelm her. She would NOT be deterred. Slowly, Sabrina circled in the water, taking in every detail she could make out in the hazy, dirty water. What if someone had followed her? Unease crawled up her spine, and she did another 360. Just to be sure. Nothing.

*Okay, Sabrina. Get a grip. No one knew you were coming here. Stop getting freaked out.* Drifting deeper into the murky depths, Sabrina tried to refocus. She had to do this. For herself. For her parents. For Mac. Suddenly, the temperature of the water shifted. Sabrina's senses spiked. What was that? It almost seemed like a shadow behind her. Before she could turn to investigate, arms encircled her from behind.

She fought against him, but his grip never waivered. He pulled her down, deeper into the darkness below. Sunlight faded from above, but another light blinked on from behind. It must have been her attacker's helmet lamp. Reefs of plantlife edged into her vision framing a wall of rock. She couldn't scream. Couldn't wiggle free? Is this what happened to Mac? The plantlife split in an unnatural fashion against the cliff edge to reveal a cave. Oh no! Once in there no one would ever be able to find her again. Fear as large as the darkness of the cave swallowed her as she took one last look at the open sea before disappearing into her black tomb.

Her attacker tethered her ankle to an invisible anchor, then turned and kicked away. The light of his helmet dimmed and shrank away as he left her there. To die. Flailing and kicking, she tried to remain calm and think. She groped along the walls and floor of the underwater cave. How many minutes had gone by? More importantly, how many did she have left? Her fingers found something smooth in the sand. Blindly exploring, she felt for its shape. Long. Sharp along the edges. She scraped the mud and sand away. If she could retrieve whatever this was, maybe she could use it to cut away her tethers.

Sabrina forced herself to stay calm. Hyperventilating would only deplete her oxygen more rapidly. She focused on uncovering the unknown object, praying as she worked. "God? You're my only hope of getting out of here alive. Please help me." One last desperate plunge of her desperate fingers into the sand, and the buried item broke free and rested in her hand. A knife! Its six-inch blade, a bright slice in the dark water, sent a glimmer of hope into her heart.

She hacked at her restraints. Once. Twice. Three times. The fourth time and her binds released. She checked her tank levels. A few minutes left. She took her flashlight from her belt, thankful her attacker hadn't bothered to take anything from her. She swung in a circle, shining the light as she turned. What was that in the shadows? She swam a little closer, daring to investigate.

Only a few feet upward and she surfaced inside a cave. No, not merely a cave- a massive cavern. She jerked off her mask and blinked the dim picture into view. The bow of a ship lay on its side and angled outward toward the exit of the cave. An exit. Tears burned her vision and the ship's bowed blurred. An old ship. Was this The Queen's Dagger? Had Mac made it this far?

Slowly she walked toward the broken ship lying on its side like a mortally wounded animal. The only sound was the splashing of water droplets falling from her body as she moved. Angling around the tip of the ship, curiosity getting the better of her, she sensed the presence again. Whipping around, hands raised to protect herself, she froze, the scream stuck in her throat as she came face to face with Mac - the husband she had buried six days before.

Sabrina woke to find herself alone on the deck of Mac's fishing boat. The waves rocked the boat and for a moment, she was disoriented. "Wasn't I just in the water...under the water....on a boat....Mac!" She sat up quickly, and then fell back on the deck, her head pounding. "Easy there...you passed out. Here, drink this." It was Mac, and he was wiping Sabrina's face with a cool cloth, while holding a metal cup in front of her face. Sabrina drank and then started to cough. "Mac?" was all she could say.

Staring into Mac's beautiful, worried eyes, Sabrina tried to focus on something, anything to center herself. It was like waking up in the twilight zone. Mac was alive and here with her. How was that possible? Her heart still hurt with the pain of losing him, and now...

Mac slid a finger down her cheek in a familiar one-fingered caress that ended, as it always had, at her lips. "It's really me, sweetheart. I'm so sorry you had to go through all that, but I didn't have a choice." Sudden, white-hot anger zipped its way through Sabrina's mind, and she sat up straight, knocking his hand away.

"Didn't have a choice? I could have died down there!"

"Love, I never would have let you die." The worry in his face shifted to reluctant determination. "But now that you've seen the ship, the only way you won't be killed is if you disappear from your life. We'll have to stage your death." If anyone else had said those words, she would have watched his eyes for a glimmer of amusement to surface, and waited for a punchline. But this was Mac. He would never frighten her unnecessarily. Sabrina stared over the edge of the boat into waves that crested sharp as dragon's teeth. "Mac? What in heaven is down there?"

She waited for his response, but he turned his head away looking out across the horizon. A distant rumbling caught her attention. They had company.

Mac knew who was coming and he knew that he and Sabrina could never outrun them. He turned back to gaze at the woman who held his heart. He was glad to have her with him again - and terrified that he would really lose her in the fight that was coming.

The shrieking of an alarm jolted his already jangled nerves and Mac whipped around searching frantically for a place to hide... and as he turned, looked across his pretty, sleeping wife to the alarm clock on the bedside table. He fell back on his pillow with a groan. So much for pizza with the works and Moose Track ice cream at 11pm. He was just getting too old...

*Make sure to join in our next group session this weekend, starting at midnight!

Saturday, August 13, 2011

Story Improv: Into The Depths

First of all, HAPPY 16th ANNIVERSARY, HONEY! =)

K, ready to play? Here's how it works-- I give a story starter, and you guys take it from there. Each comment continues the story until we reach the end, wherever that may be! You may contribute as many times to the thread as you like but try to keep each addition to just a couple sentences. Next week I will post the story in its entirety and credit the authors, so make sure and leave your name. If you leave your blog address I'll include that too. Have fun!

Mask, check. Tank, check. Underwater camera, check.

Forty-five minutes was all she had. Sabrina perched on the edge of the boat, her flippered feet dangling above the swooshing sea. She stared into the fathomless depths. It was down there somewhere. And she had to find it.

Friday, August 12, 2011

Fiction Friday: Zendah Encounter

Thanks to the following contributors to last week's Story Improv! 


Captain Buigly aimed his laser, carefully lining up the cross-hairs. Once he engaged the beam, it would take eight seconds to turn the hull of The Sender into space dust. His training should have taken over by now. Instead, he fought the tremor in his trigger finger as sweat beaded on his upper lip.

He was under orders from the Admiral. Blow those terrorists from Zendah to bits. The only problem was that Lt. Collins and his small recon team were still on-board.
 
And, contrary to every rule book in the fleet, Lt. Collins' young son was on board and waiting for news of his father. The thought of facing that wide-eyed, innocent little boy, looking into those big blue eyes and telling him that his father was dead, was making Captain Buigly sweat...and hesitate.

Suddenly, our intrepid hero adjusted his aim to take out the power couplings that held the energy core together. Now, the terrorists could neither leave nor fire any of their weapons against anyone in defense. He had bought some precious time to save the recon team and to save himself from the horror of looking into that little boy's eyes.

It would take only minutes for the Admiral to discover this and send another team to finish the job. The Captain raced to the small shuttle; if he could get to the enemy ship in time, then maybe...

As he was about to launch the shuttle his radio crackled to life and he heard the broken message from Lt. Collins...blocking out the static as best he could, he almost staggered with relief as he heard his friend's voice. The recon team had managed to steal a shuttle from the Zendan ship and were clearing the shuttle bay at that very moment. They needed 20 seconds - then the captain could annihilate the enemy ship. Mission accomplished. They were ALL going home.

 * If you want to see your name and blog featured on my site, make sure to play along. ;-) I'll try to post a new Story Starter each weekend, depending on interest.

Have a blessed weekend--it's my anniversary tomorrow!

Saturday, August 6, 2011

Story Improv, Space Style

Here's this weekend's Story Improv. Better late than never, right? If you don't know the rules, they're simple. Jump in and continue the story with a line or two of your own, trying to keep the flow and tone cohesive as possible. Oh, and then send a few friends over to play. The fun of creating together is exponential to the number of entries. You yourself may visit and add lines more than once, so check back often to see how your story is growing. I'll keep it up today and tomorrow so there's plenty of time. If you post as Anon, consider leaving your name so I can give you credit when I post the story in its entirety later next week. =)

How about we shake things up a go for a Sci-Fi? Let's go:


Captain Buigly aimed his laser, carefully lining up the cross-hairs. Once he engaged the beam, it would take eight seconds to turn the hull of The Sender into space dust. His training should have taken over by now. Instead, he fought the tremor in his trigger finger as sweat beaded on his upper lip.

Friday, July 15, 2011

Fiction Friday!

Okay, this is not the norm but last week's Story Improv was looking good but I had some problems with the blog that slowed things down. So I want to see how this one is going to go this weekend! Have at it:

"Don't lose him!"

"Which way did he go?"

"There!" Lauren changed lanes, threading through traffic in the direction of Mary's finger.

Friday, June 24, 2011

Fiction Friday- Rom Com

Brandi, you won!!
Check your email for info on your prize from Lisa Lickel. =)

Here is last week's story (credits at the end):

***
Dana H. Strauss reached out and grabbed a handful of little Tyler's shirt sleeve, successfully bringing the boy's department store antics to a halt. His sister Tina, on the other hand, still roamed free. And finding her amidst all the clothes racks would take some doing. Why she ever agreed to watch the little monsters for her old school chum was beyond her imagination. But here she was.

She stooped down digging through the rounders muttering, "When I get my hands on you..."

A throat cleared from behind her. She twisted her head and looked up at the linebacker in a suit. Not her best moment.

"Are you looking for something?"

She blinked and smiled. "A red dress. All I see is brown."

He grinned as his eyebrows twitched upward. "Is that right?" He pulled the other little terror out from behind the curtain, also known as his back. Tina's cheesy grin punched her in the stomach.

"She says she belongs to you."

Dana jumped to her feet and smoothed out her shirt. "Well, not technically. Just for today. I'm single." Heat flushed her cheeks. She did not just say that.

His mouth tipped up at the corner. "And I'm now officially late." He nudged the Tina toward her and scowled.

Dana eyed the green tie in his hand and saw his open collar. Last minute shopping. She could relate.

Only he didn't have to do it with the poster child for contraception. Ugh! If only she had as good a handle on the word 'no' as Tina did.

"Sorry you had to corral her for me, I--" Dana's words were cut short as the little girl stomped on her foot and ran in the other direction.

Dana, quickly shoved Tyler into the "hunk" and took off running in her high heels after the brat. Yes, brat, just like her mother was when she was young. Poetic justice to Dana's way of thinking. Her mad turned quickly into fear as she saw Tina exit the store's front door.

"Tina! Stop!" Dana sprinted as fast as she could in those accursed heels but the front door seemed a mile away.

A green tie floated to her feet as the man whooshed by her in a blur. Within seconds he reappeared, dragging Tina with a solid clasp of her hand.

"Th-thank you. Again."

"Don't mention it. Just uh... get these little escape artists home to their mother ASAP." He winked.

I picked up the tie from the floor and handed it to him. "Yes. I'm dropping them off right now. I'm sorry you're late for ... wherever you're going."

"Speaking of, I have to go. Job interview, big one. Sorry if I snapped at you, I'm kinda nervous."
The linebacker in JC Penney's version of Armani gave a final wave and disappeared. Dana whispered a quick prayer for her hero, limited by the kids and a ringing cell phone.

"Dana, how are the kids? Never mind, I can only imagine. I need one more big favor from you." Dana's friend rushed her words, most likely from her habitual three coffee a day habit.

"I don't know how it can get any bigger but go ahead, what do you need?"

"My boss just threw a last minute interview at me. He was supposed to give it but his daughter is in labor and this is the first grandbaby. He's on his way to get his wife and go to the hospital. I should only be a few minutes, the candidate's resume looks amazing. Can you pretty please give me a few more minutes and then bring Tyler and Tina to me at work?" Dana glanced down at the two making funny noises with their armpits and sighed.

"You owe me big, my friend."

She clicked her phone off. "Well good luck, Mr...?"

"Campbell. Mike Campbell. Thanks." He smiled at her before trotting off toward the cashier.

Dana watched him go, then strengthened her grip on each of the kids' hands and headed for the car.

Once she'd wrestled them into their seats, buckled them in, and got the doors locked, she pulled out of the lot just in time to see one Mr. Mike Campbell slide into the driver's side of a shiny, black Camry and roll up right behind her. She turned on her right blinker at the light. So did he.

Her heart quickened as his car trailed her down Rivertown. Was he following her?

The answer came all too quickly when she turned into the Golden Arches. His Camry flew by without so much as a wave. Of course. Disappointment dropped its weight onto her stomach.

Screams erupted from the backseat. No way she was going inside with those two. She pulled into the drive-thru and ordered two chocolate shakes and fries along with her Coke. That should buy her some quiet time. She needed it to work her thoughts of Mike Campbell out of her mind.

Couldn't she have met him any other day?

A sigh escaped. Today was yet another example of her infamously bad luck with men. Her friends would love this story. She'd settle for one with a happy ending. Whatever that was.

"Okay, Lord, I know you have a plan...maybe someday you'll whack me upside the head with it..."
***

written by: Jessica Patch, Susan, Jo, Julie Arduini, and myself

I don't know about you, but I want to read more of this! Was he going to the interview with her friend? Would he ask her to coffee afterwards? AHHH, it ended too soon. Ah well, time for the next story. Let's try another Rom Com. Jump in to play:

Brenda hoisted a bag over her shoulder, picked up her suitcase in one hand, laptop case in the other, and skittered down the aisle toward her gate. Why had she worn these accursed wedge heels instead of her comfy sneakers? She needed to be there five minutes ago. If she missed her connecting flight, she'd be stuck in new Jersey overnight. With him. . .

Friday, June 17, 2011

Fiction Friday: Story Improv

It's that time again, folks! Ready to flex those creative muscles? Add a line to our story. I'll keep it open all weekend and sometime next week will post the results, naming all contributors. Get your typing fingers ready!

Dana H. Strauss reached out and grabbed a handful of little Tyler's shirt sleeve, successfully bringing the boy's department store antics to a halt. His sister Tina, on the other hand, still roamed free. And finding her amidst all the clothes racks would take some doing. Why she ever agreed to watch the little monsters for her old school chum was beyond her imagination. But here she was. . .
***

Wednesday, June 15, 2011

Whatevah Wednesday

Here are the final results of last weekend's Story Improv:

Darren watched Lydia's delicate mouth curve upward when his hands encircled her tiny waist. They swayed on the dance floor, not caring that neither of them had any rhythm. The rhythm of their hearts beating together was all they needed.

Lydia closed her eyes. Finally, she was safe. When she opened them, her heart bucked into her throat. What was he doing here? Not now.

He knew her and all of her secrets. She tucked her chin into Darren's chest wishing she could telepathically explain their danger. The moment Ross recognized her, all of their work on this would be wasted.

At that moment Darren decided to try to twirl Lydia with his right hand, but his foot got in her way!

"Oh no!" Darren grabbed for Lydia but it was too late! She went sprawling across the floor, landing square on her former boyfriend's alligator cowboy boots!

Lydia has several options, cave in to fear, run away awash in embarrassment or do what she did. She hauled off and slapped Ross with all the force of a prize fighter. "You have no idea how long I've waited to do that." She made an about face, holding her head up and walked back to Darren.

The angry staccato of boots trailed her. Refusing to look back, she squared her shoulders, even as the cold sweat of fear tingled her upper lip. One step from the safety of Darren's embrace, a pinching grip seized her arm.

As nails dug into her arm, Lydia realized it wasn't Ross. Their contact had finally arrived.

"Sorry, I was late," the short brunette said as her leg angled up and around, landing across Ross's neck, taking down all six-foot two-inches of him. "Over here," she continued while straightening her earring.

Lydia jetted across the room, eyes pegged on her contact. It only took 1.5 seconds for terror to nail her feet to the wood floor as Ross gathered himself up out of the pile on the ground, threw his head back and let out an ear-popping howl. Lydia turned her wide eyes to the window--a full moon.

So it was true.


***

Story by: Jessica, Marji, Jerri, Jo, April, Gary, and Michelle

Thanks for playing! Come back Friday for a new Story Improv... see you then. =)

Friday, June 10, 2011

Fiction Friday: Story Improv!

It's Fiction Friday! Woot! You know what that means. . .  Story Improv time!  But first another quick mention about the COTT bookclub. A Tailor Made Bride is turning out to be one of my favorite reads of the year! There's still time to join in, even if you feel you are behind (I am). Get the book anyway! You won't be sorry! Then head over to the Book Club page and add your thoughts to any of the questions that strike a chord with you. No pressure to address everything, just what you want to express about the book as you move through it.

>>Today is the last day to enter to win the $10 Amazon gift card in honor of my one-year blogiversary! Leave a comment to be entered. What better day to come out of hiding (hehe) than on Story Improv day? <<

Let the game commence:

Darren watched Lydia's delicate mouth curve upward when his hands encircled her tiny waist. They swayed on the dance floor, not caring that neither of them had any rhythm. The rhythm of their hearts beating together was all they needed.

Friday, May 27, 2011

Winner! Plus Fiction Friday

The winner of Julie Carobini's Fade To Blue is....

CLAUDIA RIZZI!

Congrats, Claudia--enjoy your book! 

And thanks one more time to Julie for visiting. She sends her best wishes and thank you's to those who left such nice comments. Blogger has been her frenemy this week and she was unable to leave a comment for you. But she loves you nonetheless!  You can read more about Julie, and another interview with her next week, as she competes on Clash of the Titles. Participating in comments over there will put you in another drawing for her book too, so head on over.

http://www.clashofthetitles.com/

And now the moment we've all been waiting for...

Story Improv:

A knock sounded at the door startling Jessica from her trance-like stare at her computer screen. She set down her Diet A &W and crossed the room to greet Jane standing on her porch.

"Jane! I need you to do me a huge favor today and help me break in to the taxidermi office across town."

"Um, okay but can I grab a bag of fritos for the road?" 

"Sure--on the counter next to the stuffed racoon. Hurry up!"


Friday, May 20, 2011

Fiction Friday: Story Improv

I love these story improvs--and you seem to, too! Thanks for participating. At the end of this post you will find this week's Story Opening. Here is last week's complete story:

written by: Michelle Massaro, Jessica Patch, Katherine, Daphne Michele Webb, Gary L Wade, and April GardnerI died on my fifteenth birthday and it was so lame. I'm still getting the hang of being dead. Before you glamorize me as some sort of ‘self-healer’ or immortal vampire, let me tell you it’s not that cool. 

I wrote about it in my diary. My mom sent me to a shrink. I've been diagnosed with biophobia--the fear of living. As if! So here I sit surrounded by four white walls and Mario--he's afraid of dying. We're a real pair, but sometimes I tell him my story just for entertainment.

Mario, naturally, is an opossum. He plays dead all the time. It used to freak me out, back when we found him in the backyard, but now it just drives me crazy. I really hate it when I talk to him about how much I hate being dead and he flops over, his eyes roll in the back of his head and his tongue hangs out of his mouth. I'm tempted to pick him up by the tail and stick him in my brother's shoe when he gets like that.

Let me stop here and explain a few things before I continue. Yes, I am dead. I'm a dead Amish fifteen year old in space. Cool thing about this is that I can space walk around the station without a suit, if I could get outside these white walls, that is.

The bad news is those cosmic rays and micrometeorites are killer on my complexion. During my last "walkabout" a stray piece of space junk took off my thumb all the way to my wrist—it's been over two hours now, and only the bone has fully grown back. It itches like crazy!

"Michelle? Are you pretending to be in space again?"

"No."

"Are you pretending Mario is a opossum?" She gave me a pointed look.

I swallowed. "No way. Just playing scrabble, Nurse Banner."

I don't think she believed me, but she took the small white paper cup out. Meds. Again. I sighed but obeyed. Sometimes, Nurse Banner could be scary. If only I could walk through walls like ghosts. Not me I have limitations.

An idea came to me. What if they knew I was dead and were experimenting on me? What if these meds kept me from walking through the walls and out of here forever. I did lose blocks of time. It was possible.

"What are you thinking, Michelle."

"Nothing. Thanks for the chill pill." I smiled and hid it under my tongue, pretending to swallow.

Oh yes. I was getting out of here.

"Triskelion," said Mario after Nurse Banner left the room. As he placed the letters on the board, he added his points up. "Isn't it interesting that a word meaning three legs amounts to 14 points?"

The door clicked behind Nurse Banner, and a lock slid into place.

She peered at me through the tiny square window of the door. Did she think I couldn't see her? I wasn't THAT crazy.

Mario smirked from his corner of the room. He bounded a tennis ball against the floor. It bounced and hit the opposite wall before flying back into his palm with a thwack.

Nurse Banner said Mario didn't exist, but I had proof that he did.

"It. Is. YOUR TURN ALREADY!"

Of course Mario was real. If I were going to make up a pet opossum, I would make one that was more patient. I couldn't do much with these letters: U,V,C,I,O,V,Y. I had other things on my mind. "Do opossums dig?"

He rolled his beady little eyes. "Do you mean burrow?"
"Whatever. Can you dig through the ceiling or the floor?"
"Maybe. If I had your dessert for the next six months."
"It's yours. Game's over. Start digging."
----
Today's improv starter:

"Crikey--would ya look at that!"

Friday, May 13, 2011

Story Improv

It's Fiction Friday again! I just returned from watching my 10 year old compete in a relay race at school. And they won! There's something about that passing of the baton that is so fun and holds so much meaning. It's hard sometimes to pass control to the next person but exhilarating to see what they do with it. So let's have our own relay. . .

My husband will start us off, and you guys come and grab the baton from the previous commenter. Keep your sprint to a few lines and then hold out the baton to the next person. But feel free to come and take another turn. We'll keep it up all day today and tomorrow. Remember, keep it clean. But today we're going speculative!

Have fun. Oh, and send your friends over too! =)

I died on my fifteenth birthday and it was so lame. I'm still getting the hang of being dead. Before you glamorize me as some sort of ‘self-healer’ or immortal vampire, let me tell you it’s not that cool.

Wednesday, May 4, 2011

Kristan and Mark's Weedkiller Sashay




(Written by Jessica Patch, Jerri Harrington, April Gardner, Gary L Wade, Jamie, Paulette Harris, Therese, and yours truly, Michelle Massaro)



"What the heck is this?"

"Coffee."

Kristan Gellar looked at the cup of mud and frowned. "Did you just go rake up some goo from under your truck and microwave it?"
Mark adjusted his Stetson and smirked. "What's a microwave, city girl?"

"Who you callin' a "city girl", Mark? You know I grew up here in Pampa, Texas just like you! You are just contributing to the misconception that anyone with a southern accent is 'dumber than dirt' by callin' this stuff coffee!"

Kristan slung the liquid onto the sidewalk then shook the mug until the last drop fell. "Thanks. You just saved me eight bucks."
Mark's lips quirked to the side in that endearingly familiar way. "How do you figure?"
She jutted her thumb toward the coffee-drenched cracks in the walk. "Won't be needing weed killer any more."

He chuckled. "You know what weed killer is?" He took her hands and rubbed her palms. She was thankful for the sun. It was easier to blame for the heat on her cheeks than his touch. "These aren't hands of someone who does manual labor, city girl."
She jerked them away, the thrilling heat replaced with flames of anger. "You have no idea what these hands are capable of. In fact, they're quite capable of strangling you!"

Catching her off guard, Mark pulled her into his arms and kissed her. And just as suddenly, he made a face and pulled away.
"Yeah, that really was some bad coffee!"

Mark threw back his head and laughed. The look on Kristan's face was priceless. He looked past her and his jaw dropped, "Get out of the way."

He picked her up and swung her body sideways behind him before he put her down. A coiled rattlesnake coiled near where Kristan stood seconds before. Disturbed by the ruckus,his rattlers sizzled in annoyance as he attempted to sun himself on the warm cement sidewalk.

"Those swing dance lessons you made me take finally came in handy!"

"Huh?"

When she looked at him that way, his heart stopped and time stood still. He felt her spell spinning its web through his veins as he stood speechless, lost in her eyes. She looked down and he noticed her hands. "Well, pretty lady, I would rather be dancing with you than watching you strangle that snake with your hands."

When Kristan's eyes panned to meet Mark's, she realized for the first time that he was wearing a sneaker on one foot and a cowboy boot on the other. In the bright sunlight, she saw a stream of red run down the side of his sneaker.

***

Thanks for playing everybody! It's always a blast!