Tag Archive | Fiction

10-Minute Writing Exercise

I haven’t felt much like writing lately, but today I decided to gather my laptop, journal, pen and pencil and head to my local coffee shop, do some people watching and maybe get a little bit of writing in.

I was doing a bit of people watching and searching for story starters because nothing was coming to me. Then I spotted this elderly gentleman and the first line that was generated was similar to the one that starts my story. So, I set my timer for 10 minutes and this is the result. I think has good bones and I’m anxious to see where it goes.


He sat quietly observing them, watching them as they uncovered his hiding place. He sipped his coffee and smiled slyly each time they unearthed a new one. He contemplated if he should tell them to check the yard next door, too but decided against it as there wasn’t much to unearth and there was no need in implicating himself. Nearly half a century had passed and they were still no closer to discovering him. He remembers them all. The first one was especially special after all it was the first. It gave him a sense of accomplishment and he knew that if he could do this he could do anything. One a year he vowed, but sometimes it was two. He had a signature, but they hadn’t figured it out until the 15th one.

He was clever from the start. Leave no evidence. Nothing that could tie it back to him. Dispose of everything. Don’t let anything linger. He did, however, have over souvenirs. He carried them around in that black bag. Never out of his sight. Never far away. Always in arms reach.

Stability?

I haven’t done a 10-minute writing prompt in a while. I did a bit of editing to make it somewhat readable. Enjoy! 🙂

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John sat on the front porch contemplating the meaning of stability. He recently looked up the meaning and realized none of the definitions fit him. His wife said she wanted a more stable life, but he didn’t know how to give her that.

Stability: continuance without change; permanence. That was one definition. John hated doing the same thing over and over. He hated being in one place for too long. He loved Read More…

Day 11: [I]t’s Not Over

I had to regroup. After rereading some of the posts, I didn’t like the way my original theme was turning out. Hope you enjoy and as always feel free to comment and leave constructive criticism.

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Andrew rocked back and forth on the sofa, wringing his hands and shaking his head. He stopped rocking and wringing and shaking long enough to say, “It’s not over.” Nobody  knew what he meant, but mom said if Andrew said it – whatever it was wasn’t over.

Mom knew and could relate to Andrew better than anybody. Dad wanted to have him institutionalized, but mom wouldn’t hear of it.

“They’re going to do it right this time,” Andrew said. Read More…

Day 1: [A]bigail Morton

Hi all! So it has begun Blogging from A to Z. I’m a little behind, but not to worry I’ll be caught by Monday. Just in case you’re new here. I’m writing 26 short stories (500 words or less) for the Blogging from A to Z Challenge. You can read my theme reveal here.

I hope you enjoy them and as always please feel free to share your thoughts.


Abigail Morton. What can one say about Ms. Abigail Morton? She was mean. She was spiteful. She was hateful. Indeed she was all of these things and much more, but in spite of them she was the kindest person you’d ever meet. She took care . . . took pride in what she did for others. Abigail

Read More…

Family Heirloom

Day 3 of my 15 day writing challenge is:

Write a story in which your character finds a family heirloom/artifact. Describe the object and its significance.


Betty couldn’t bear to have her grandmother’s house sold at auction, so she and her husband bought it.

The house was in pretty bad shape, but she loved to turn shabby things into something sheik. The first thing she and Bill attacked was clearing out the house. Her gran was a bit of packrat. Actually, the proper word is hoarder. As she and Bill were shoveling newspapers, food wrappers, water bottles, etc into trash bags Bill hit on a what sounded like a hollowed out part of the floor. Read More…

A Letter

Dearest Jackie,

We may never see each other again. Enemy fire is heavy. If not, know I love you.

Pat

50 years later and you’ve never stopped saying, ‘I love you’.

 

 

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