Let’s have some fun. 

I want something to write about but I want you to help me. I will write a short story about the first 7 things people write in the comments. 

Rules:

  1. You may only comment once. 
  2. The comment must be one word only. 
  3. The comment must be rated PG. 
  4. You must think the comment in “pirate speak” before typing. 
  5. Pics count as a comment, as long as it’s only one pic, rated PG and you’re thinking about the pic the way a pirate would. 
  6. If you live near me and you comment, could you please high five me next time you see me? Actually, can you high five me even if you don’t comment. I don’t get enough high fives. (Ok, I do but I really like high fives.)

Ok, comment away! First 7! Let’s do this! 

Advertisements

The Very Sad, Fat Sheep

Recently, I bought a game called “Story Cubes” for us to use as a creative writing tool during school.  We used them for the first time yesterday.  There are 9 dice with a different picture on each of the 6 sides.  You roll all 9 of the dice and then try to construct a story from whatever pictures you get.  Here is the story the three of us came up with after our first roll.

The Very Sad, Fat Sheep

Once upon a time there was a really fat sheep.  The sheep ate so much he was really unhappy with his figure.  The sheep was sad.  He was so sad he ate 50 gallons of ice cream and weighed himself.  And then he was sadder.  But what he didn’t know was that the scale he used was enchanted and it spoke to him.

It said, “Hey, fatty, what do you think I am, the Golden Gate Bridge?”

He was so sad that he jumped into a hot air balloon and tried to fly away but he sunk down to the ground and broke the scale.  He wanted to learn math so he could measure how fat he was so he bought an abacus.  The abacus he wanted to buy was very expensive so he sold his house in order to pay for it.  Now he was fat, sad and homeless.

He decided to eat a bunch of fruit to lose weight.  One of the apples he ate was actually poisoned but he was so fat he survived.  He looked around, he thought he was going to die.  But then something caught his eye.  It was a very rare beetle renowned for its healing properties.  He quickly ate the beetle and it made him all better and even helped him lose all the weight.  He decided to get a job as an accountant because he was so good at math now.

The end.

By Meghan, Sammee and Mommy

Maggie and Joseph

*Disclaimer: this is a short story I wrote as a writing exercise at like 2 a.m.  There are bound to be grammatical errors, etc.  Don’t be so judgy.*

Maggie carefully wedged her journal back into its hiding place, between her mattress and box spring. Joseph would be home any moment. She glanced into the small compact mirror she always kept within reach; her make-up was spot on, her hair perfectly coiffed. She placed the mirror back on the nightstand and sat in bed listening for the front door, the signal that Joseph was home. Nothing but crickets and the hum of the fan. She picked up the magazine she’d purchased that day while waiting in the drug store checkout line and tried to read it. It was useless. She was too nervous, too on edge, she tossed the magazine to the side and smoothed out the wrinkles in the bed covers.

A moment later, just when she was about to give up and start pacing the floor, she heard the familiar sound of the front door opening and closing, followed by heavy work boots stamping across the living room floor to the kitchen. Cabinet doors opened and closed, the refrigerator door opened, something was poured, then it closed again. Finally, the heavy work boots stamped out of the kitchen and down the hall. They stopped just short of the bedroom door. Maggie’s heart nearly leapt out of her rib cage. Her eyes riveted to the door knob, she sat holding her breath.

The knob turned slowly, the door crept open and Joseph, seeing Maggie staring at him, stopped in the doorway, beer in hand.

“Maggie,” he started in surprise, “I didn’t think you’d be up, darlin’.” Maggie had always loved Joseph’s quiet southern drawl.

“Surprised?” she managed, somewhat breathlessly.

“Well, yah,” relaxing a bit, he started walking into the room again, “it’s awful late, darlin’. I told ya I’d be home late tonight. Didn’t need to wait up.”

Maggie reached for something she’d wedged between the mattress and box spring.

“How else could I have given you this, dear?” she asked, her heart exploding in her chest as she raised the .22 caliber revolver into the air and aimed it at Joseph’s heart.

Paralyzed, his beer glass hit the floor, the foamy brown liquid splashing over his boots and soaking into the carpet. Maggie gripped the gun in both hands, steadying her aim and steeling her nerves. She gently squeezed the trigger before Joseph had time to get out, “Now, Maggie, darlin’.” Then he was dead, his blood mixing with the beer in the carpet.

It took Maggie a few moments to realize the gun had actually gone off and Joseph was actually dead. Once she did, she dropped the gun onto the shag carpeting in disgust. She shook all over for a moment but eventually managed to calm herself, breathing in deeply, meditatively.

She picked up her little mirror and checked her hair and make-up again. Perfection. She breathed a sigh of relief and put the mirror away.

Dear Journal, she wrote a moment later. Well, I did it. I finally killed that cheating bastard…

The End.

Gun-pointed-at-camera-300x300

Ben Bold Lives

I finished writing the outline for my first novel tonight (this morning?) at 2 a.m. This is a story I’ve been working on for at least 3 years now, on and off again. I’ve had some major distractions in my life PLUS writing is not my day job. It’s my “stay-up-until-2-am-while-everyone-else-sleeps” job. So get off my back. (JK HAHA)

Anyhoo… I figure if I write one chapter a week, I might have a passable first draft done before the end of the year! Whoopee! I really wanted to stay up until 5 a.m. and knock out chapter one but I decided I didn’t want gobbledygook for the first chapter.

I’m going to bed now. Wheeee!