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Week 112- (Feb 14th-21st) stories--- Topic:SEE PROMPT BELOW DONE
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Edward
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Feb 13, 2012 07:31PM
I was going to say "blindness" or "beheading" in honor of Saint Valentine, but this sounds like fun.
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Nice, Edward. I like the prompt, Al. Good idea.
Stephanie wrote: "Nice, Edward. I like the prompt, Al. Good idea."Was that sarcasm? Because my message came out more ... cynical than I intended.
Yeah ... I just thought of beheading because I'm fairly certain that's how Saint Valentine was martyred. The blindness is because he wrote a letter to the blind daughter of his jailor (saints have awesome friendships like that). She recovered her sight after opening the letter.The letter also had a rose enclosed which, through a series of convoluted abstractions, gave rise to the couples' day we tend to view Feburary 14th as. Feburary 14th, by the way, was chosen because (as usual with martyrs) that's the day Saint Valentine died.
Cheers.
He was beheaded for marrying couples without permission from government or somesuch, so maybe couples' day isn't so far off. "Forbidden Love" could've even qualified, in a sense.
Edward wrote: "Stephanie wrote: "Nice, Edward. I like the prompt, Al. Good idea."Was that sarcasm? Because my message came out more ... cynical than I intended."
Yeah I was. :)
CRAZY AL wrote: "I was thinking of beheading actually for the topic.I then asked my mother if she had any Valentine's Day prompts. Her response was, "how bad it hurts when Cupid shoots you in the ass." I ditched ..."
Hahaha oh man, now that would have been funny.
Edward wrote: "Yeah ... I just thought of beheading because I'm fairly certain that's how Saint Valentine was martyred. The blindness is because he wrote a letter to the blind daughter of his jailor (saints have..."I feel so enlightened now.
More sarcasm. You'd get along with my family.I feel a similiar indignation towards the treatment of Saint Valentine's Day as towards the treatment of Christmas. So I'm going to harp on about it a little.
Anybody know what they'll be doing for this week?
I was going to write something in a church, but then I realized that would entail someone peeking in on the Holy of Holies in an Orthodox Church. I'd rather not ...
I don’t think I’m going to write a story based on the adventure I had when I was sent to the bank to pick up the $862,000 that was the firm’s take for a case.Alex, just think of the boyfriends you’d hate to be curled up with. The best dates can’t be planned but happen when you don’t expect them. The worst dates are the ones on Valentine’s Day.
M, my papa said more or less the same thing. He said, "Romance shouldn't be sceduled around a particular day," (he conceeded days specific the couple, like anniversaries), "it should be spontaneous ..."Mind you, Saint Valentine is the patron saint of happy or betroved couples, so it is appropiate to say a prayer to him concerning your relationship on Feburary 14th (though not only then).
On Cracked.com they had this contest, "23 Painfully Honest Valentine's Day Cards". Most of them were "I'm doing this to get laid" jokes (Cracked isn't the highest level of humor), but my favorite said, "Classroom Obligation".
Edward wrote: "More sarcasm. You'd get along with my family.I feel a similiar indignation towards the treatment of Saint Valentine's Day as towards the treatment of Christmas. So I'm going to harp on about ..."
Sarcasm's a big thing in my family too.
I'd love to write something but my dad is working from home this week so I'm thinking it'll be about impossible to write anything on the PC. Although, I do need to finish an essay so I'm seeing myself hunkered under my bed cover as I try to analyze and interpret The Crucible.
Praying to someone who's alive makes even less sense. Prayer to saints is not something I'm good at explaining.What is The Crucible?
Prayer to saints is not worshiping them, that much I know. Putting trust in other people is not neglecting to put trust in God; God created the saints, and the saints fulfil His will, so trusting the saints is trust God. The part I can't explain is the objection that saints are dead and not conscious and therefore praying to them is a vain effort. I can't really make an argument one way or the other here; I see no reason to assume that the dead in Heaven are unconscious, but I also have no arguments against the contention.The Latin word for pray, by the way, is ora. It's where we get words like orator. Praying basically means talking, not worshiping. There is such a thing as worshipful prayer, which is obviously reserved for God, but that is not the only type of prayer.
I was only able to read four pages of The Crucible, which really stinks since I didn't even get to see how it ends. It stopped right when Marry Warren accuses John Proctor of witchcraft. I was really in to the script too.....
Alex, in #21, you said, “We’re having fun writing more popcorn episodes though, so beware.” Who were you referring to with we’re?
Aha! That’s what I thought. My next questions: Does this character in your head sometimes seem almost like a real person, and does he sometimes, by mysterious means, seem to have a hand in what you write?I have a character that, for me, sometimes seems all too real. Unlike Frank, she doesn’t have a maniacal, dark side, though she can be indecisive and problematic. Her name is Alison. I’ve come to think of her as my muse. She shows up under various names in a lot of my stories, sort of like a director who can’t resist starring in her own movies. In “Lead and Laudanum” she appears as herself.
When a fantasy of mine runs its course, it just sort of burns out. For me, it isn’t a question of killing off the femme fatale. I get bored. After a while, whatever it is down there in the dark that generates the fantasies stokes itself with more fuel.Alison is Maureen Vought in “For Today Will Soon Be Gone,” Margaret Nelson in “Shadows of the Ravine,” Jeanelle Jamison in “This House Is Haunted,” the unnamed girl in “Looking for Ellen.” She’s always the one who exerts the irresistable attraction.
I always have a red headed character in my stories. Kirilee was the first. I just love red heads. :D
Ah, yes. Redheads have a mystique about them.Alex, how did you arrive at the names Frank Putnam and Todd Buxton?
Edward wrote: "Prayer to saints is not worshiping them, that much I know. Putting trust in other people is not neglecting to put trust in God; God created the saints, and the saints fulfil His will, so trusting ..."Remind me to write this after I write that other thing for Nikki.
I might try something this week...but I'm really tired. Been able to go to PT twice in two weeks, so...yeah. XD
Wait! Harris is ugly and disheveled? That's NOT how I picture him. :O Lol.
Okay, sorry I don't have time to proof the story so here it is in its raw form.Title: The Janitor's Closet
Words: 1184
Dust filled the air as the mop fell to the floor. Sarah pressed her clenched fist to her mouth as she coughed. She waved her other hand in the air, trying to clear it so she could see. She really needed to speak to David, her boyfriend, but she wasn’t exactly supposed to be back here….
Sighing, she adjusted her position on the floor. Some men had been making their way down the hall when she dived into the janitor’s closet. She found the fact that the janitor’s closet was filthy a little ironic but now wasn’t exactly the time to complain or remark on this fact since she shouldn’t be in there in the first place.
The hallway seemed oddly busy now. She sighed again and leaned against one of the shelves. Hopefully, she wouldn’t be in there for very long. Sarah carefully pushed herself off the floor and, dusting her pants off, she surveyed the small room. It was packed with cleaning supplies and stacks of paper.
Why would a janitor’s closet have paper in it? She pulled a handful from one stack and flipped through them. A frown creased her brow and she flipped faster until between two pages she found a picture of a man clipped to one. He looked innocent enough but the word exterminated had been stamped across the photo in big red letters.
Gasp filling the air, she nervously glanced about the room, knowing full well she wouldn’t find a soul rather than herself but needing the reassurance all the same. Her hand shook as she pulled the paper with the photo clipped to it out from the pile and read the page. It was a bio of the man but it held no reason for his… murder.
Sarah closed her eyes and shoved the page back into the stack in her hands. She placed the handful back onto the stack she’d got it from and leaned against the shelves again. Taking deep breaths to steady herself, she opened her eyes again, raking them over the room with new vigor.
Her hands lightly touched items on the shelf in front of her, pulling cleaning objects left and right. So far, nothing seemed out of order except for the stacks of papers. She dragged a box of paper towels off a shelf. It dropped with a muffled scrape as it partially landed on her foot.
She’d seen this before. Only once but once was all it had taken. Body trembling, her thin fingers latched onto the small metal box the paper towels had hidden. It was the same make as her father’s. A quiet click sounded and the lid squeaked as it opened.
Just as she had though, in the metal container laid a gun - a pistol to be exact. Sarah hesitantly picked it up and turned it around in her hands. It was loaded. Shocked, she handled the gun with a new sense of cautiousness. She placed it back into its container as if it were a bomb able to go off at any second.
The noise in the hallway had died down now and Sarah hurried to put everything back where she’d found it. The metal box scraped loudly across the shelf as she pushed it back into place. Her hands shook as she picked the cardboard box of paper towels up off the floor and placed it in front of the gun’s box.
Sarah made her way to the door and opened it a crack. The hallway was empty. She inhaled a deep breath then stepped out of the janitor’s closet. The door clicked shut behind her. She shoved her hands into her pocket and hurried down the hallway - out of the building.
“I don’t think you were supposed to be in there,” a smooth voice crooned.
She stopped.
“Turn around,” said the man behind her.
She turned.
He chuckled. “Ah, you’re face – it’s ashen. Tell me, sweetheart, what did you find in there?”
Sarah shook her head.
“Well, if you refuse to talk then I’m afraid I have no other choice….” He pulled a knife out of his pocket.
She gasped. “No!” Sarah spun on her heel and ran. She could hear his footsteps behind her. Her breath came in ragged gasps of terror. She wasn’t exactly the athletic type and he was gaining on her quickly. Panic ceased her and she pulled her cell phone from her pocket. Her fingers fought to form a somewhat coherent text message for David. She sent the jumbled message just in time.
Her pursuer’s large hand gripped her wrist and yanked her around, pining her to the wall on their right. He tore her cell phone from her hand and pressed the knife to her neck. “And who exactly do you think can help you know, little girl?”
Tears coursed down her cheeks. “No please, don’t. Please don’t,” she begged.
“Who’d you call?” he asked. His black hair spilled into his dark blue eyes.
Maria pressed her lips together.
“Who’d you call!” he screamed, shaking her body. The knife bit into her skin.
“John, I wonder, are you done cleaning the offices already?”
Sarah’s captor stopped and slowly, hesitantly, turned his head. He gulped. “This is the man you called?”
“I’m afraid so,” David answered. He held a gun in his right hand and, raising it, pulled the trigger. John didn’t have a second to move. The bullet pierced his heart. His body convulsed then fell to the floor. The knife clanged as its blade met the hard floor.
Sarah stifled a sob. “David,” she whispered.
His brown eyes softened as he took her appearance in. He shoved his gun into its holster on his hip and slowly walked to her, not wanting to scare her more. “Love,” he said, “don’t worry, everything is okay now.” He pulled her into an embrace. “What’re you doing back here?”
“I just wanted to talk to you,” she answered numbly.
“Shhh,” he hushed. “Don’t worry. Come on. I’ll take you home. I just need to drop something off. Come on.” He hooked an arm around the back of her knees and carried her back down the hall. Sarah stared at the ceiling, traumatized for the moment.
A few minutes later she found herself being placed on a bed. She awakened from her trance and looked at David as she pushed herself up. His hands stopped her though and pushed her flat against the bed. “Don’t worry, love,” he murmured. “I’ll make it so this never happened.”
Terror gripped her as her eyes caught movement from above her. “What’re you doing,” she demanded. Someone slipped something onto her head. “David.” They strapped her hands and feet to the bed.
David ran a hand through his blond hair. “Don’t worry,” he repeated again, “you won’t remember a thing. It’s for your own good. Trust me.”
Tears coursed down her cheeks. “Please don’t, David.”
“I love you,” he whispered. And the machine went on. Her world darkened and the memories of the past hour were all wiped clean from her mind.
Ahhh... Darn it. I just got the email about this prompt today.. We should do another prompt next week as well; this sounds really fun to do!
Stephanie, you’ve been reading too many of Alex’s stories! I’m sorry I took so long to read this one. I started it several days ago but got interrupted and am just now getting back to it. I think you have a real talent for writing action. It held my attention all the way to the end.
Kat wrote: "Good job, Stephanie :D"Al wrote: "M wrote: "Stephanie, you’ve been reading too many of Alex’s stories!"
For sure she has! That was very enjoyable, Stephanie. Just my style. :D"
M wrote: "Stephanie, you’ve been reading too many of Alex’s stories! I’m sorry I took so long to read this one. I started it several days ago but got interrupted and am just now getting back to it. I think y..."
Thank you guys! I'm glad you guys liked it! At first I wanted to do something in an asylum but the more I thought about it I wanted to do something others may not have thought of, which brought me to the decision of doing something with a janitor's closet.
Just read your story, Al. Wow. That was.....gripping.
“Susanna” was a fast read! You know how to build the tension and roll out the action.
Stephanie, fun read, good tension. And yes, you appear to have been reading too much of Al and her near-death endings.Susanna was a fun fast read too. You sure don't give the girls much of a chance though! I'd love to see an Electra character triumph, even if ambivalently. Would you like me to talk to Frank? I will, if you think it will help! LoL.
