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Chain Writing Game Week 2 Episode 12
Welcome to the the Chain Writing Game number 2, hosted by the lovely Kerrie Ann Salsac.
This week’s game is called “Have you Seen my Wife?”
Have You Seen My Wife – Episode 12
Back in the alley, Dennis took a drag on the cigarette.
“I’m just looking for my wife!” he gasped, and began coughing. Trixie looked at him critically and took the cigarette away from him.
“Hey! I was…” exclaimed Dennis, cutting himself off as a large blond-haired man appeared at the far end of the alley.
“Oy, Trixie’s my girl!” shouted the new arrival. “You want rough, you pay extra or I cut you!” He was wielding a wicked-looking knife.
“Jorge?” asked Dennis. Trixie nodded, her eyes widening as Dennis pointed the gun at Jorge.
“Freeze, pimp scum!” he yelled.
Look At Me!
Smashing – it’s time for the first Friday Fictioneers of 2014! Rochelle is our host, and this week’s photo has been supplied by her daughter-in-law!
How did the doggy get up there?
All the other amazing entries can be viewed here.
As a special “treat” since it is the first Fictioneers of 2014, I have popped one of my infamous DraliDoodles at the end so that you can all gaze in awe1 at my amazing2 artistic skills3.
Notes:
1 – “awe” is an unlikely emotion when viewing DraliDoodles
2 – “amazing” is an incorrect term when used to describe DraliDoodles
3 – “skills” – this word has been used incorrectly in this instance
Copyright – Rochelle’s daughter-in-law
Look at me! Look at me! I am at the top of the tree, oh yes. On top of the world!
Ruler of the planet! Bwahahaha!
Gaze upon me from the ground far below, tiny human child, for I am supreme! I cast my eye over the whole of creation, and I shall rule it all. The grass, the trees, the humans, my fellow canines – all will bow down and pay homage to me!
I am King of the… wait, what’s the female human bringing out? Are those… dog treats? Oh boy! Make way, coming down! Clear the way! Woof!
“Look at me!”, a DraliDoodles special edition for Friday Fictioneers
Chain Writing Game Episode 28
After a couple of hard days at work I finally have the chance to add my last instalment to Kerrie Salsac’s amazing and fun chain writing novelette!
To catch up with the story, take a look here!
I’m thinking Cindy needs a bit of a help here.
Back at the not-so-safe house, Cindy flicked “accept” on Mac’s phone, while thumbing down the volume and slipping it into her pocket. She needed to be heard without alerting Aadila, who still waved the gun threateningly at her. She could only hope that whoever was calling Mac was on her side.
“Like I said, Aadila, kill me and this ‘Signor Giuliani’ won’t be pleased.”
Moving to cradle Mac’s head, she felt the butt of the gun taped to his back, just below the nape of his neck.
Mac looked into Cindy’s eyes and nodded slightly. Her hand closed on the pistol’s grip.
Chain Writing Episode 15
Here is my next instalment for Kerrie Salsac’s excellent chain writing game.
A fairly obvious plot twist, but now it’s decision time for Cindy!
To catch up on the story so far, click here (I don’t know how to make the little froggie work 😦 ).
Cindy dropped onto the mossy ground outside the window and turned to help Aadila, who slipped, hitting the ground hard.
“What is it, are you alright?” whispered Cindy.
“My ankle,” sobbed Aadila.
“Probably just sprained. Can you walk? We must get away from here.”
Aadila stood painfully – she could walk, but Cindy realised she would need help.
“Lean on me,” she said and they headed away from the house.
A woman’s sob echoed from an upstairs window. Cindy looked askance at Aadila.
“There are others. But we must escape! Please, I cannot walk unaided!”
Cindy looked at Aadila, then back at the house.
Chain-Writing-The Last Day-Episode-5
Here is my addition to Kerrie Ann Salsac’s chain writing novel thingummy!
This is episode 5 – you will need to check out the rest of the story here to see what has happened so far!
Cindy considered her options. Miss her opportunity to leave quickly and quietly – Jemima could be back any second and she wouldn’t be alone. Or she could allow this handsome young man to drive her.
She’d always been told to be careful, but this young man, this Charles, seemed safe enough. She slipped into his shiny new BMW and as they peeled away, she laughed.
“I haven’t told you where I’m going!”
“That’s immaterial,” replied Charles, his smile suddenly cold, humourless. “I know where I’m going, and you’re coming with me.”
A cold fear swept over Cindy as she realised she couldn’t move.
Broken World
Hello one and all – I hope you all had a wonderful holiday time! However, the holidays can’t hold back Friday Fictioneers which, as always, is hosted by Rochelle. Today’s striking photo was supplied by fellow Fictioneerer Douglas M MacIlroy.
If you would like to join in, click above for Rochelle’s site. You can also view all the entries (updated during the week) here.
Copyright Douglas M. MacIlroy
The high-intensity beams shone out like the eyes of some fantastical creature. The tower’s atomic cells had powered the lights for centuries, as they would for centuries more.
The beams cast eerie shadows across the endless miles of desolation, legacy of the mismanagement of the latter decades of the twenty-first century. The light glinted off rivers running thick with toxins, flowing through empty miles dotted with the petrified remains of vegetation. The sun’s rays, no longer attenuated by ozone, had bleached the skeletons white.
Above it all the tower stood guardian over a poisoned world, mute testimony to the folly of Man.
Dry Clean Only
It’s Friday Fictioneers time again, this being Wednesday and all! Hosted by Rochelle, near on 100 people have a go at writing 100 words in response to a photo which this week has been supplied by Jean L Hays.
Entries are added all through the week – check here to view the other entries.
I’ve gone for a bit of silly dialogue this week 🙂 .
Copyright Jean L. Hays
“Wow, that’s amazing! The colours are so vivid. It’s like being there!”
“What’s that?”
“Your hanging glass decoration thing. With the dolphin. It’s like being there! Wait, where’d the dolphin go?”
“Oh, that. That’s not a picture, it’s a portal. I expect the dolphin swam off.”
“For real? A portal? Wow, is there nothing they can’t do nowadays?”
“It’s actually quite old, as a matter of fact.”
“Cool. I’m gonna stick my hand through. I can feel the sea!”
“Watch out for the…”
“Aaargh!”
“…sharks.”
“Aaargh!”
“Hey, point your arm stump some place else. This suit is dry clean only!”
A New Life
It’s Friday Fictioneers time again! As always it is hosted by Rochelle and this week’s 100 word photo prompt has been provided by fellow Fictioneerer Adam Ickes.
You can see other entries here – more are added every day, or have a go yourself – it’s fun!
That looks to me like a Native American in the background – if it isn’t, it is for this story!
Copyright Adam Ickes
They’d broken away from their tribes, eschewing modern technology. They wanted to recapture the lives of their ancestors. Over a hundred had gathered in a remote valley to live according to the ways of a long-gone age, following a history gleaned more from John Wayne movies than from textbooks.
From time to time backpackers wandered into their valley. Waste not, want not. Why just take a scalp when the entire body is covered with good, useful skin?
Of course in this modern age they needed money, so they sold their products in town. Their best-seller?
Hiking boots, 100% quality leather.
The Beast Within
It’s Friday Fictioneers day again! Under the watchful eye of our host Rochelle, we write 100 words in response to a photo prompt which this week has been supplied by Randy Mazie.
You can read the other entries here – the list grows all week so check back!
I hope no-one minds, but I altered the spelling of the “writing on the wall” within the story :-).
Copyright Randy Mazie
The building had stood empty for many years, long enough that the tree had grown from a mere promise to near full height. Every so often, questing shoots would slide between the boards on the window. Within seconds they withered, blackened and died.
“NO TRESPASSING.”
No human hand had penned those words.
Samuel was cold and hungry. He couldn’t face another night on the streets and the building looked perfect. He carefully pried one of the boards from the window and slipped inside.
The board snapped back, muffling his last agonised scream.
The beast within tolerated no intrusion.
No trespassing.
Bitter Boat
It’s time for Friday Fictioneers, and this time I’m well stumped. My muse has gone on holiday, I think. Never mind, I’m not missing one so I’ve popped together the story below.
Thanks as always to our host Rochelle, and to Ted Strutz for supplying the photo. Other entries for this week can be found here.
Copyright Ted Strutz
Ah, to be a cruise ship! The majestic lines. A power station turning huge propellers to slice with ease through the dark waters of the Atlantic, the Pacific, to distant and exotic destinations. The pride of the fleet!
It could have been me.
It SHOULD have been me!
Ding ding, all aboard for the harbour tour! All aboard!
Harbour tours. Pah! How could the Great Builder (may He be exhalted) install my consciousness in this tiny, flat-bottomed scow? How has it come to this?
I think today I will end this. Sink myself. All hands lost.
Goodbye, cruel world.
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