In the comments, use the 10 random words below to create a cohesive, creative short story tying all the words together. And remember: after you finish, highlight your words and click the bold button to make them stand out and help you determine if you forgot any words (if you’ve missed some challenges, go back and try those too).
- Search
- Danger Zone
- Sun Rays
- Gunslinger
- Armor
- Astronaut
- Poodle
- Retaliation
- Limousine
- Journalism
{ 3 trackbacks }
{ 73 comments… read them below or add one }
The gunslinger dropped his pack in the dirt, then leaned against the tree and lit a cigarette, pulling the dirty vapor into his lungs.
He pulled his hat low, shielding his bloodshot eyes from the harsh sun rays which threatened to blind him. The gunslinger’s momentary solace was severed by a rhythmic thud in the distance.
Probably hoofbeats, though he couldn’t be sure.
He sighed; a sad, involuntary puff of fatigue. The Sioux had been in a frantic search for him for the past two weeks, seeking retaliation for the raid three months earlier. The raid which the gunslinger had nothing to do with.
Crooked journalism had pointed an awkward finger in his direction. Now here he was.
No matter, that. He was in the danger zone, and if he didn’t get galloping, he’d surely be dead. The thin leather vest on his back might’ve been better than nothing, but it was hardly any armor at all.
The gunslinger took a swig from his canteen and ran his fingers through the mane of his horse, then swung back on the saddle and galloped into the sunset.
“CUT!!!”
The director shot him a smile and the soundstage bustled back into motion. Harvey had his hat off before he hit the snack table. He fucking hated westerns. No idea why he’d agreed to it. Probably because it was better than playing another goddamn astronaut, or being sidekick to a poodle like he’d been in “Bel Air Bulldog.”
Harvey opened the door to his limousine and sank into the leather.
“Where to, boss?”
“Anywhere but here,” he said.
@Sean
Damn dude! Loved it. When you went to the CUT!!! that added a whole new, unexpected dimension.
BIG smile. That was my favorite one so far.
I want to be an astronaut. I want to be closer to the sun rays. You know… live days where I don’t have to search such distance for my smile. Days when I don’t look to each new one as a danger zone to face, wearing mental armor like a gunslinger prepping for a duel; days where anger and tears are my retaliation to my condition, not days where even happy poodles licking my face, and limosine rides with celebrities wouldn’t help. No, right now Im hopeless like a journalism major without a journal. Right now, I’m done.
Your Search Is Over! Learn the Secrets That Bring Ladies to Their Knees in This Easy Online Course!
Hey, gunslinger. Yes, you with the armor, dented and dirty from the hundreds of battles you’ve lost in clubs, bars, and blind dates. You look at some of the guys you hang around with and think,
How come they get all the girls? What’s their secret?
Once I was just like you… but now they call me “The Blind Date King”!
I’m ready to teach you the best-kept secrets of talking to the girl of your dreams—and the girls you never even dared to dream of! You don’t have to be a movie star, a famous golfer, or an astronaut to have women you know and women you’d like to know hanging on your every word. In this course I’ll teach you…
How to start a conversation—cold—with the hottest woman in the room—and why that will make you a magnet for every other lady
How to tell if your date’s a waste of time from the email she sends to “Set something up” (and how to salvage even the worst blind date)
When to team up with the guy at the nightclub who seems bent on retaliation as you charm the room
How to spot six hidden “danger zones” in your dating life and turn them to your advantage
Why refusing to date one woman exclusively is the best thing you can do for yourself and for the ladies you’re going to line up in droves after taking my six-week online course!
After you’ve taken this course you’ll be tempted to let your friends in on the tips, tricks, and secrets of making every other guy fade into the woodwork whenever you’d like to meet someone new—but don’t do it! These tested methods are so important to taking your love life from Not to Hot that you’ve got to keep them all for yourself!
Watch my techniques work on your boss, too. As you learn how to drive women wild, you’ll find you can command newfound respect in other areas of your life as well. It’s like starting over—now you’re the guy that everyone looks at, wondering hey, gunslinger, what’s your secret?
Soon, every time you pull up to your favorite watering hole or disco it’ll be like a celebrity just stepped out of his limousine.
The woman of your dreams may be watching you and saying Wow—but I hope you don’t find her too soon, because I don’t want you to miss out on all the fun!
Elise looked up from her typing and shifted uncomfortably. The late winter sun’s rays slithered through the window, weakly filtering over Max, her poodle, as he slept on the old braided rug.
A journalism degree from Penn, and I’m doing ads to convince 25-year old lonely-hearts they can hook up with their dream babe. For a guy who I wouldn’t date on a bet. I’d rather be writing about the local Little League news.
With a quick twist and a little cracking of her neck to ease the pain, she got back to writing Rob’s slimy copy.
Pity the poor fools.
The red umbrella floated upwards as if attracted by the sun rays themselves. Mary stared: her umbrella had never done this before, not even in retaliation for being left on the train when she fell asleep at Strawberry Hill. James, her obedient poodle, didn’t seem at all surprised. As if astronaut umbrellas were perfectly reasonable he happily stood at her feet waiting for their walk to continue. Mary was unsure what to do – should she search for it? She didn’t know how as it was busy sailing skywards in all its redness.
She had been in journalism for almost a year, and had seen some pretty strange things. The man in body armor that got out of the limousine at the local school’s football match as if he were some sort of parent gunslinger had seemed more than odd. But this? The danger zone otherwise known as outer London had nothing compared to a floating umbrella.
Mary thought a moment, then turned up the corners of her mouth into a beguiling smile, and whistled “a spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down” as she walked down the road with exaggerated determination. The way her day was going, there was bound to be a chimney sweep just around the corner ….
@Katy
As we say in the states, “You’ve got some serious skills.” Very good write.
Thank you for crossing our paths. I love where each of these submissions takes me. I could never come up with these ideas on my own, but thanks to this site, I’m learning to incorporate how all of you are coming up with different story angles and storing this knowledge in my long term memory.
Shane – thanks for the encouragement. I so enjoy reading other people’s contributions, but only AFTER I’ve had a go myself. As you say – fascinating!
@Katy I know what you mean. Luckily for me I get to compile these random word lists and think up my version before these things go live. If I read submissions from other people first, I fear my creative path would alter because of it.
The limousine pulled over at the curb and I tipped down my sun rays for a quick search of the location. I was in the danger zone – a gunslinger with no armour on.
It didn’t matter. This wasn’t astronaut science. This wasn’t for a journalism piece. This was retaliation, revenge in its purest.
And as I stepped from the idling limo, I whispered three words to my as-yet-unseen and very unsuspecting victim.
“Bang,” I said softly. “You’re dead.”
Two minutes flat. Woot!
Damn! I’m impressed.
Did you kill the poodle?
Oh hell. I missed… uh…
YEAH! The poodle! DEAD!
LOL. Awesome. : )
@James You’re the man!!!!!! (ducks with nervous laughter).
That was real good for two minutes. I believe if we had a timed challenge you would “clean house” (obscure reference to your latest blog post: http://menwithpens.ca/creative-mind-cleaning
@James do you want Sean or I to edit your submission? I do believe we charge more than you though! (ducks again)
Nah, I’m good. Fail! (and proud of it, ha!)
No one could accuse her of giving up the search, goodness knows. Yet at 35 she felt she was entering the danger zone: a panicked feeling that youth and opportunity were slipping away. She wasn’t unhappy, her standard poodle Alfie was affectionate and attentive, her ambition in journalism gave her something unattainable to strive for, and her work at the laboratory was interesting. Her life was far from dull, and as her father was fond of pointing out: if you want to be an astronaut, don’t train as a gunslinger. It was true – she could easily have studied journalism, yet she played safe with science.
She could also have made more of an effort with the opposite sex. She never got very far, her inbuilt armor shielding her from anything or anyone who got too close. If she were really honest there was some retaliation inside of her that just didn’t want to go there anymore.
So when the sun rays finally parted on her loneliness no one could have been more surprised. The white limousine that pulled up outside the registry office seemed out of a fairy tale, not any part of her life she recognised. Her broad smile danced over her assembled friends and family as she walked down the aisle with the woman she loved.
Sorry, probably against the rules, but nothing else to do while I was making dinner ….
@Katy
Wow! Two in one day. You’re setting the bar higher for sure. And this one had a surprising ending that empressed me with the subtle way you slipped it in. Very good.
Kelly = Remarkable.
@Katy – There are no rules! : )
@Kelly – I hate you. Now I have to BEAT you. Damnit, woman!
Sean,
Whew. I was lonely in moderation all day.
& thanks, glad you like it!
James,
Impossible.
This sandbox is going to be WAY too much fun for me to play in. Love it!!
Regards,
Kelly
@Kelly – We’re lucky to have you. Sorry about the moderation. : )
@Kelly,
Wow, for some reason I didn’t see your comment all day and I leave my admin screen open too. Weird! But, great contribution and it’s great to have you. Glad to hear you’re better now (from your blog you mentioned that an illness got the best of you..a true challenge).
Hope to see more from you.
The Limousine pulled up to the curb, gleaming in the sun rays with the telling glimmer of twenty bottles of Armor All. You’d think the celebrity was an astronaut, famous politician or notorious gunslinger, the way the papparazzi swarmed around like bees. He knew that the moment the car door swung open he would be exposed to all the yellow jounalism that would flood the internet. The stories would be a direct retaliation for his many indiscretions with those saucy bitches. He never dreamed that Central Park would be such a danger zone, but they were everywhere!! He was innocent, they were the ones throwing themselves at him. He knew he was better looking and more intelligent than most, but he hated it when the media called him a dog! He was, after all, Pierre, The Wonder Poodle! He got no respect these days.
He had to search in his man purse for his shades and with pompadoured head held high, stepped out onto cold, unfriendly pavement.
Jaiden was doing an internet search on astronauts for school.
Sonya, sitting nearby on the couch, kept rigid control over all things electronic. She monitored websites, read all text messages and forbade My Space pages.
Jaiden hit the enter key and watched what came up. NASA Astronauts, wikipedia and then the usual journalism style news articles appeared first. She found a picture of the shuttle crew riding in a limousine and thought, “Sweet!” Jaiden googled through the pages: “Gunslinger’s Journal: Astronaut Explains ‘Shooting Stars,’” “NASA improving Hubble’s space armor,” “Sun Ray Meditation Society.” She started googling into the danger zone. She found a review of Crossfire Trail, a movie about gunslingers and whores. She glanced over at her mom, fearful of retaliation. Quickly she switched back to astronauts and cleared the history.
Sonya absentmindedly stroke her poodle’s fur while Jaiden fantasized about getting tickets for a Jonas Brothers concert.
@Margaret & @Loran Both of your submissions made me chuckle. Thank you both.
Hey Margaret, unless I’m blind, though, I don’t see the word “search” in yours. Am I blind or just really tired?
NOTE TO ALL. I have a hard time counting these words sometimes when I do the challenges also, so remember when you type these out in the comment box that it helps to add those helpful bold tags around your words. If you don’t know how, check out the about page where we explain it a bit further.
My first edition was missing 3 words. I went back and added more. Then I added the bold words and counted them to be sure. Then I proofread but I still see a mistake. My perfectionistic inner critic is annoyed but I’m glad to know there will be another challenge soon.
He had to search in his man purse for his shades and and with pompadoured head held high, stepped out onto cold, unfriendly pavement.
Ahhh, Sorry, Shane, you’re not tired, i am.. Been up since 2:00 am cause’ I had to go to the flower market this morning!! no excuses, i f***d up. thanks. If you are able to edit, you can add the last phrase. see ya next time.
Sigh… I’ll edit for you, Ma. : )
See ya tomorrow.
@Madge – By the way, very cute. I liked the ending a lot.
Shane,
Thanks. I’m at 40% brain capacity now, which I may have used up on CCC (half an hour’s goofing around was exhausting, cough cough!). Anything new from Sean is worth coughing on my keyboard for.
Sorry about the bolds! I read that but I though it was more of a suggestion or an if-you-want-to. Will do in the future.
Until later,
Kelly
@Kelly,
Don’t be sorry. The bolds are just suggestions to keep our sanity. We really don’t have any rules here. Personally, I have to bold mine because if I don’t I go crazy scolling up and down seeing if I used all the words.
Hehe. Careful Capricorn here. (Plus too woozy to keep track of things right now.) I printed the challenge out and made check marks by the words as I went.
Since you can’t see my check marks, bold it is.
@Kelly
Guys. I just finished mine and its over a thousand words. I feel that I’m doing too much and missing the point of the challenge. What should I do?
@Eric. Post that sucker! We really don’t have any rules here. My posts tend to be short but that’s just my style. Other people have a longer style. As long as it’s creative and it has all 10 words in it (and it’s clearly not spam, which I’m sure yours is definitely not), post away.
Living in San Angeles, A.K.A. “Hero City” has its ups and downs for Stanley J. Kirby. For instance, he lives in a city that has a nice population of super heroes. What could be better that that? There have been occasions that Stanley has met a few super powered individuals. He once ran into the Gamma Ray Gunslinger at Burger Bell. He was ordering a chimmy chonga. Stanley ordered the same thing so he could tell his friends that they ordered the same thing. There was this one time right after college that he shared a cab with Midget Tosser. Stanley was so enamored; he actually paid for The Tosser’s fare. What was cool about that event is that Midget Tosser was on his way to his girlfriend’s condo. The Amazonian Astronaut and Midget Tosser were in all the tabloids. It was scandalous. That day Amazonian Astronaut broke off their six year relationship. Midget Tosser added an “M” to his costume, turned to a life of crime and called himself the “Mad Midget Tosser.”
Stanley works at Computropolis. Its an electronics’ store that has comparable prices to other major discount centers. He’s the manager of the video game department. Often there are times he invites his friends to the store after it closes. They usually order pizza and play Danger Zone 4. They challenge other clans around the world on the X-Station Wii-Sixty Live Network.
Sometimes, El Supremo Maximo’s assistant, Kate, comes to the store. She always uses Stanley to make her purchases for El Supremo Maximo. Kate gave up a career in journalism to assist Maximo. She’s mentioned to Stanley on numerous occasions, that working with Maximo beats meeting deadlines any day. El Supremo Maximo is the leader of the heroes in Hero City. He’s the reason why ordinary people decide to be super heroes. You don’t really need super powers per se. To be a hero, you just need to pass an ethics exam and pay your quarterly dues.
A villain in San Angeles on the other hand, just needs to commit a crime. Some criminals are pretty lame though. Just last week The Poodle Prince was arrested for stealing gumball machines. The thing about The Poodle Prince is he doesn’t use poodles and does not have any royal blood in his body. But there are plenty of legit bad guys in the Villains Guild.
Negaton, the leader of the guild has escaped numerous times from the super detention facility in the middle of the New Mexican desert. It’s simply know as Sector Sixteen. Powers are negated when an inmate is processed, so escape is not really an option with temperatures over 120 degrees Fahrenheit and sun rays that could melt an engine block of a 1979 Buick Regal.
Yesterday marked the eight times Negaton has escaped. It had been in all the news outlets for people to be on the lookout. The search has been on for close to eighteen hours. Out of all the cities and countries in the world, Negaton ALWAYS comes back to San Angeles. It was more than likely some sore of retaliation against his arch nemesis, El Supremo Maximo. Captain Glory had been on television warning the citizens of San Angeles to stay out of high rises and avoid public transportation until they can confirm he is not in the city.
Stanley was watching the press conference on one of many plasma televisions at Computropolis. It was his night to close the store. Usually he’d have his friends over, but Kate asked him to breakfast in the morning and he wants to fresh and ready to go. Sometimes the game nights can go to four in the morning. Stanley usually lets the others go right away. As long as everyone does their job its no big deal closing at night.
On his way to his car, Stanley noticed a shooting star. He was about to make a wish but the “star’s” trajectory started falling in his direction. He started running back to the store as the object crashed into the parking lot. The sound of the crash knocked Stanley to the concrete and blew out the windows of the store front.
Stanley brought himself to his feet and peered in the direction of the impact zone. He inched closer to the edge of the crater. The smoke started to clear and he could see something, someone moving. Dust and dirt started to clear and Stanley recognized the Green, Red and White armor. It was El Supremo Maximo.
“Maximo??”
Without a word, Maximo lifted his hand to Stanley for help. On instinct, Stanley reached out to help his hero. As he grabbed Maximo’s hand, Stanley’s insides started to burn. His skin seemed to bubble at the internal fire flaming inside. Stanley wanted to let go but couldn’t. The burning stopped as Maximo let go. Confused, Stanley backed away from the defeated hero. No words could form as Stanley’s mouth moved. Was he now mute? More than likely he was in shock.
As his hearing returned he heard the grinding of gears. The sound became louder and louder. It became almost deafening as a giant boom knocked Stanley down again. This time he wasn’t thrown as far or hurting as much. In fact he felt no pain.
Back at the crater, he saw someone climb out.
Maximo?
No, it was Negaton. He was holding Maximo’s armor and had an evil grin on his mechanical face. He approached Stanley without a word and lifted his cannon and fired.
Stanley thought he was surely dead. Instead the energy from the cannon seemed to be stored in his body. When Negaton noticed he wasn’t dead, lifted his cannon again and fired. Stanley lifted his hands to block the attack, but felt energy leave his body. He looked at Negaton who was now covered in flames. He ran away from Stanley and took off in the air. A trail of fire and smoke followed him. He crashed in the park on the other side of the street.
Stanley didn’t know what just happened. Within a few seconds construction crews were on the scene cleaning the place up. A limousine pulled up next to Stanley. The door opened and Captain Glory stepped out. Stanley usually would have freaked out seeing the heroes second in command. But with tonight’s events, nothing surprised him anymore.
“Come take a ride with me. We need to talk to you about a new career field, noob.”
@Eric
A) That was awesome!
B) There are no rules, my friend. The idea is to get your creative juices flowing. Look at it this way, you just wrote 2% of a book! Awesome, that.
@Sean.
Thanks for the kind words. My past two stories have been ideas that I’ve had in my head forever. I just never committed them to words. Now that they are, it seems a little more real now.
@Eric
I’ve said often that this or that submission made me laugh, but something about your story made me laugh hard outloud just now. Hit my funny bone.
Great adventure and great character names.
Eric,
I could see it all as I read it. Illustrations, speech bubbles, and maybe a little newsprint blur. And the names are great. Nice one.
Until later,
Kelly
Do you guys realize that this post has 44 comments? It amazes me the amount of community that we already have here in such a short amount of time.
I’m super happy about this.
Thanks for all the great comments. I really like these challenges. I’ve been wanting to write stories for years. Mainly they’ve been for comic books, but it was not until recently that I’ve started considering it in something other than comic book script form.
I figure since I can no longer draw worth a crap, I can at least do something like this.
Thanks again.
@Eric Why can’t you draw “no longer”?
@Eric – that’s all you need, man. I swear, two years ago I never thought I’d be doing this for a living. But a running faucet pours. Great job!
@Shane – Yup, awesome is happening. : )
@shane i used to draw all the time in my teens and early 20s. Then I broke my hand and the internet blew up. I lost my focus and then my confidence.
@Eric
Alright Eric. Let’s get you back into the game. I have an assignment for you.
Draw something, go to http://www.wordans.com and make yourself a t-shirt with the design. With this site you can order just one shirt which is cool. Do this once, and I guarantee you will get your mojo back. I wish I could draw. I’d be making shirts all day.
Speaking of which @Sean, we should see if Dave can come up with a CCC design and we can make one for our site. I’d love to have one to wear at the coffee shops.
I brushed my hand across my collarbone to check my body armor before climbing into the limousine. I was wearing the good stuff–it wasn’t noticeable under my clothes–but if they decided to do a search before they let me in, I was in trouble.
The drive was uneventful. There was a stack of vintage compact discs beside the mini bar. I flipped through them while keeping one eye on the driver. The Beach Boys, Jan & Dean, the Sun Rays, the Zombies… the haircuts were impressive, but I wondered about the discs. Everything smelled of old vinyl and stale cigarettes. I should have taken a cab, but if I’d refused the limo, they would have gotten suspicious.
The building was quietly impressive. Four narrow stories of black granite, tinted windows, brushed steel and glass doors. It looked more like a monument than a place to live.
Funny how that goes.
The limo glided to a stop in front of the door. I held my breath as I stepped onto the sidewalk. I was heading into the danger zone. Nothing exciting happened, so I turned my back on the driver as the doors glided open. I tried to look casual as I entered the lobby.
I noticed her almost immediately. Black coat, black dress, black stiletto boots, black hair, walking a black poodle. Her pale pink lipstick and fair skin made her look even more undead than if she’d gone all black. Her heels echoed in the otherwise empty lobby accompanied by the soft click of the dog’s claws. I watched her, pulse racing. She ignored me.
She walked like a gunslinger. Totally ruined the look.
I approached the elevator, watching the reflection of the woman and the dog in the mirrored panel in front of me. She kept going.
My hand was shaking a little as I pressed the button for the penthouse.
The secretary looked up from his desk without really looking at me, either a sign he’d been a secretary too long, or something else. I hoped they had bought my story about wanting to ghost-write an autobiography. I spent a couple of years in journalism school, so I knew enough to fake my way into an appointment.
Or so I hoped.
“He’s expecting me,” I said, not pausing at the desk. Unfortunately, the secretary decided to do something about that.
“You’re not going in there without–”
I folded his unconscious body under the desk after relieving him of his gun. If he’d managed to look a little more bored, I might have believed he was a real secretary.
The main area of the apartment was a large, open space that occupied most of the top floor of the building. The bedroom, bath, and kitchen were stretched along the east wall to my left. I wasn’t interested in a nap or a snack.
He was standing directly in front of me, a drink in his hand, looking out the window. He didn’t turn around.
“So, what shall we call this–retaliation? Justice?”
I didn’t answer. He seemed to hesitate, then turned just enough to see me without making eye contact.
“You don’t expect to get out of here alive, do you? You must know I was expecting something like this.”
I waited. He turned a little more, trying to see if I had a weapon.
“If it’s not me, it’ll be someone else. They won’t stop until you’re good and gone.”
“What do you mean, ‘They.’ Oh. Well, I suppose you don’t really look like one of them. So you’re an assassin.”
I shrugged. “I wanted to be be an astronaut. This pays better.”
I heard the inevitable sound of feet in the corridor. Things were about to get interesting.
You guys should really give me a word limit…
@Stacy WHAT HAPPENS NEXT!!! God, I love these things.
My favorite part was “I watched her, pulse racing. She ignored me.” Those three words at the end were money!
And, no we aren’t going to have a word limit for you. By all means, write away.
You know, when we started this challenge, I was thinking how cool it would have been to continue a plot throughout each of the challenges. Alas I thought that would be too challenging so I didn’t. But, still, it would be quite cool.
Stacey,
Hats off to you. That was super-cool.
Laughed out loud at that one. Love it!
Shane,
On the first page of comments, is there a link to get to this second page? If there is, I couldn’t see it.
Running gags would also be cool. I wouldn’t be surprised if poodles make occasional returns, for instance, or if Elise some time later writes another ad for Rob…
Later,
Kelly
@Kelly, Yeah I had to look for it a bit, too. I didn’t expect to get this many comments so I wasn’t ready for the “oddness” of seeing only a couple of comments either. The “previous comments link is at the top. That’s what you’re looking for.
@Kelly, thanks. I had a little chuckle to myself when I wrote the gunslinger bit, so I’m glad someone else enjoyed it.
@Shane, it’s probably for the best that you don’t have a running theme. Some villain would come along and scrape the content to sell. Then we’d all have to pool our money and hire an assas– er, lawyer.
@Stacey It’s funny because scrapers suck. : )
JOURNALISM:
Retaliation for causing sun rays to glint off the limousine and creating a danger zone for my eyes as I crossed the street, mused the poodle, grinning evilly, upon learning the armored astronaut would be a guest of her owners that night.
The poodle asked her dog friends to search their arsenal for a gunslinger.
This one has given me a great idea for a children’s book, which I’m hoping will be a future project!
Perry was unhappy. He was in search of something in his life that would make him feel complete.
“I could be an astronaut, circling the moon…
but I’m afraid of the dark.”
“I could be a gunslinger, shooting up the wild west…
but I don’t know how to use a gun.”
“I could be a knight, saving princesses and defeating dragons…
but I don’t have any armor.”
“I could be a movie star, traveling in a fine limousine…
but I don’t know how to act.”
“I could be a great lawyer, dazzling the courtroom with my retaliations…
but I don’t like to argue.”
“I could be a construction worker, always in the danger zone…
but I’m afraid of dangerous things.”
“I could be a sailor, soaking up the surf and the sun rays…
but I am afraid of water.”
“I could be a writer, the best in the field of journalism…
but I don’t know how to write.”
“Or,” Perry thought as he curled up content by the fireplace, “I could just be me.”
For Perry was a poodle, and sometimes you don’t need to teach an old dog new tricks.
Lisa, that as just fantastic. Really. Once you told me it gave you an idea for a children’s book, I read your submission as such and I could see reading it to my son one day. Nice write indeed.
If you get something like this published make sure to let us know. That’s what this site is all about. Getting creative and seeing where it leads.
Perhaps, I should have gone into journalism or some other writing profession. If I had, I may not have been drawn so oft to search the Interweb, to Shan Earth Ur, ultimately recompiled, and now drifting between worlds like Stephen King’s Gunslinger.
I put the chrome fountain pen that Velvet gave to me in the inside breast pocket of my smoking jacket along with the box of Cracker Jacks that Song had given to me. Then I opened the pocketbook I lifted from the library. It was a small book no larger than the palm of my hand. In it was a list. At the top of the list was the word Astronaut.
Curious, I returned the book to my pocket and stepped outside the library. The sun rays were a translucent blue. I closed my eyes and imagined they were warm on my face.
After several moments of basking in their serenity, my lids popped open. I blinked. Song stood on the curb in front of a lemon-orange limousine wearing a sheer Danger Zone halter and a Technicolor poodle skirt. I blinked again.
She opened the door to the car and motioned for me to get in it.
“That’s it?” I said. “No hello? No how have you been?” I stopped at the door of the car to drink in her scent. It was hallucinogenic.
“Do you still have the Cracker Jacks?”
“Yes.”
“Good,” she nodded at the man sitting in the back of the limousine. “Once you have written off the Astronaut, open them.” I got into the car and Song shut the door behind me.
The man in the back of the limousine looked like any other character without his space armor.
“Do you know why I am here,” I asked him, pulling the chrome quill from my jacket.
“Retaliation?”
“Retaliation for what?” I asked.
“Uh, I wouldn’t know,” he said. “I haven’t done anything.”
“Exactly.”
Troy, you’ve done it yet again. I love this world you have created.
As I sat in journalism class, I thought about the retaliation I expected to recieve from that stupid astronaut who seems to fancy himself as some kind of a gun slinger. Shoot, a couple of centuries ago we probably would have dueled at dawn or at noon in the street in front of the general store or at the horse corral. With real lead bullets no less. But not now. Now we log into the Danger Zone and search for our adversary in v-world sun rays rather than the real thing. Not that it makes it any easier. If you’re not wearing good armor, then you’re just as good as dead anyway. You can have a stroke doing this. A real one. And dead is dead. Whether it’s by lead or by poodle. I really wish I hadn’t hit his Limousine! Shoot!
(10,8,6,4,2,1,3,5,7,9)
I’d love to have a mathmatician quantify how difficult it is to do a piece with a pattern like you used as apposed to just doing them in random order. Awesome.
“Miss Poodle! Miss Poodle! I can’t find my astronaut!” The little boy peeked over the sofa in tears.
His unwilling babysitter slapped down her copy of The Gunslinger and briefly closed her eyes, as if it would provide her with armor against the kid. “I told you to stop calling me that, kid.”
“But your hair looks like a fluffy puppy,” he insisted.
“And you’re just a bucket of sun rays,” she retorted in retaliation–but he just grinned at her.
If only she could have worked on her journalism degree in a bigger city–she could have worked in a coffee joint, or better yet, as a limousine attendant for some big wig.
Instead, she was stuck in this danger zone of toys, dirty laundry, and suburbia–the very kind of life she avoided at all costs.
The kid continued to pout at her and she sighed. “All right. Let’s go search for your astronaut.”
Sara,
LOL. True to life, with just a touch of over-the-top. I love it.
Thank you, Kelly!
This one had me laughing, Sara. Real cute and real funny. Great job.
Thanks, Shane!
Brett’s search for his new home had not taken long. It was as if the small bungalow had his name written all over it. Built in 1955, it was a short block from the beach, in the Leucadia community of Encinitas, California – in the north county of San Diego. Thanks, in part, to the small fortune his grandmother left him, Brett made the realtor’s day by paying cash.
Sitting in a beach chair, not far from a danger zone for crashing waves, Brett monitored the kids building sandcastles. Wondering where the heck the parents were, his protective mode was on full throttle. With sun rays bouncing off his Ray-Bans and a five-day growth of beard, Brett had the dangerous look of a gunslinger bent on trouble. He wore the look naturally, like a second skin or a shield of armor.
The faint hint of a smile broke through as he watched the small boy run over to him and ask, “You want to play with my Buzz Lightyear?”
“That is a pretty cool astronaut.”
“He’s not an astronaut,” the boy bristled, “He’s a space ranger.”
“Ah, a space ranger. That’s much cooler than an astronaut.”
“Damn straight,” the boy responded.
That brought a burst of laughter from Brett. It had been a long time when he could laugh so easily.
“Michael James, get over here right this second!”
Rolling his eyes in a male conspiratorial expression, the boy whispered, “That’s my Mom.”
“Michael James…”
With an audible sigh, he turned his head and yelled, “Coming, Mom.”
Turning back with a mischievous grin, the boy raised his hand in the universal high-five and said, “See ya’.”
Slapping the small hand, Brett chuckled, “See ya’, buddy.”
He watched the boy join his Mom and the little girl he assumed was the boy’s sister. Prancing up and down, next to Mom, was a white poodle – definitely a chick dog. He’d bet cold hard cash, it wasn’t the boy’s choice.
As if in retaliation, the poodle lifted its leg on Brett’s blanket as the family parade made their way across the beach. Roaring in laughter, Brett warmed at the sound of the little boy’s giggle.
With a quick jerk on the boy’s arm, his mother pulled the boy along to a waiting limousine. “Welcome to southern California,” Brett laughed.
Slowly the smile faded as he was transported back to the dark recesses of his mind. He saw the murdered child, who was only slightly older than the boy on the beach. Headlines of journalism trash screamed the ugly truth, if only in his head – THOU SHALT NOT KILL – OOPS – I DID.
@Cathy: More, more, more.
I like where this is going.
People always ask me, “What made you decide to go into journalism?”
What can I tell ‘em? I like the idea of living on the edge, being in the danger zone. A man’s gotta have excitement, a life with meaning. And who knows? Maybe one day I’ll even get to ride around in a big black limousine.
Yes, they say. But why search for stories that will make enemies? Enemies that may even now be planning their retaliation? Where’s your protection? Where’s your armour?
So what would you have me do? Go to school and train to be an astronaut? Walk my next door neighbour’s poodle for some pocket cash?
Remember what happened to Icarus, they warn me. Fly too near the sun’s rays, and you get your wings burnt.
Maybe. Maybe.
But when I was six years old I wanted to be a gunslinger. Now that I’m thirteen, and a reporter for my school newspaper, I think completely differently.
@Terry: Ha! That was witty and fun. I love meeting people that can write, and whose writing reveals they have fun doing so. Carry on!