Short Stories
 

Write a short story. No rules.

c'mon.

One day this guy saw a dog in his yard. He chased it off with a stick, but later he regretted it.

thanks. i feel better now

The dog came back later with some buddies and, well, they ate the dude.

Random idea.

Someone write a paragraph. Then someone else writes the next paragraph. Hopefully each paragraph would flow at least somewhat. Each writer has a lot of flexibility in what he/she writes. They could embellish the prior paragraph, move on, end the story, continue an "ended story" or whatever. With this group, I bet a really cool story would develop.

Could be interesting.

One day I was browsing a message board, and I saw a creative writing section where there was an idea posted about writing a story, paragraph by paragraph. Each user would contribute a different paragraph. I thought this might be interesting, so I decided to write the first paragraph.

But try as I might, nothing would come to me. Not a single plotline, not even a paragraph. I decided that a walk to get some fresh air might help clear my head a little, perhaps inspire me.

It was a lovely spring day for a walk. Party sunny, 69 degrees. I was glad that the weather had finally turned for the better. No more snow and cold; the days would be getting longer and warmer. I walked along at a brisk clip, breathing in deep the springtime air. In the distance, I could see the neighborhood park. I decided that once I reached it, I would sit for a while and let my mind wander, and perhaps gain some inspiration.

Finding a bench near a pond in the park I decided to sit down. In the distance I could here children playing and a dog barking. Breathing deeply of the fresh spring air I began turning ideas over in my head again. Inspiration couldn't be too far away.

That's when I heard the squishing sound getting closer behind me. I was afraid to turn and look, so I sat and waited hoping it would pass me by. It got louder and louder, the squishing more pronounced and defined as it grew nearer. There were mini-squishes inside the main squishing sound. The sound stopped directly behind me. Suddenly, I noticed that I smelled fish. It was getting stronger now, and almost overpowering at this point. I had to turn and see what it was, but I couldn't. So I stepped away from the bench and stood up in one smooth motion. I whirled, and faced it.

With an incantation to Yog-Sothoth on the tip of my tongue just waiting to be invoked, I look at what is behind me. I see the wonderful park with trees budding, grass growing, squirrels collecting nuts, and nuts collecting squirrels. Hmmmm. Looking down, I almost jump when I see right next to me a five year old licking a lollypop. He is wearing waist high rubber boots covered in mud.

"Mister, have you seen my pet clam?" The child's eyes welled up. "His name is Tim and I left him on this bench." Having never eaten a pet before, I was unsure of my next move.

She told me her name was Tammy and it was certainly a she, I thought to myself. This young lad was obviously confused, probably a victim of some new age communist indoctrination center. There wasn't time to save his mind from the horrors of leftist propaganda, so I just gave him an abstract gem to think about. "Well young fella, let this be a lesson in life for you.....if you're gonna be trudging around in the mud licking lollypops, some stranger is likely to eat your favorite clam."

"But hey, I'll tell you what," I said. Here, the kid's eyebrow cocked, as if he already sensed my intentions. "If you write me a 500-word essay on the Freudian implications of a young boy with gender issues sucking on lollipops while hunting for clams, I'll help you find your pet."

"300."

"500, but you can count the bibliography."

"Done."

The child turned to go, trailing chunks of semi-dried muck behind him. Then he paused, glancing back at me shyly, as if unsure of himself.

"Hey mister?"

I nodded, stifling my impatience.

"Don't forget to lock up tonight. Some clams don't want to be caught." He grinned menacingly and tossed the lollipop over his shoulder.