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  #1  
Old 07-22-2017, 02:40 PM
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Rules:

The aim is to create a credible story.

Each addition needs to be about a hundred words-ish.

No derailing.

No changing genre.

Tag the next writer at the end of your post. (Please choose regulars)

If you want to jump in, type "MINE" in the reply box to hold that section of the story.

Type "PASS" if you want to skip a turn and tag someone else.


The finished story should be flash fiction length, so aim to create a cohesive piece by collaborating with what's already been written.

Be interesting to see if we can create a plot and guide the story to a close working blind...





"Hush now...I'm going to remove the sack from your head...don't struggle", he crooned as his fingers worked on the knotted rope. It was a reassuring voice, and for a moment she thought she had been saved.

She felt the pressure release from around her neck as the rope loosened. He lifted the sack gently from her head with the tenderness of a parent easing a jumper off of their sleeping child. A rush of cool air hit her face and diluted the smell of chloroform. Clara slumped to her side and vomited. Her head pounded. Her scorched tongue lolled and felt too big for her mouth. She pushed herself up on her elbow to look at her rescuer.

But it was him.

He was kneeling by the mattress, smiling benignly like an attending priest at her bedside.

"There now...that's better. .you're safe, " he whispered, stepping back to admire her.



C'mon Myers - you're up next. Hundred words in five minutes.

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Old 07-22-2017, 03:06 PM
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You might add to your rules that the writer tags the next. If that person doesn't wanna they can post a 'pass'
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Old 07-22-2017, 03:10 PM
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Yep, good thinking.

Or if someone wants to take the next stage of the story, type 'mine' in the reply box to hold the slot.

You game BP?
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Old 07-22-2017, 03:12 PM
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I will. You tagged Myers. Let's let him have a crack.
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Old 07-22-2017, 03:15 PM
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He's tied up doing indecent things to scallops.

Jump in then tag Myers Bri.
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Old 07-22-2017, 03:19 PM
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'Mine'
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Old 07-22-2017, 03:47 PM
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Originally Posted by Grace Gabriel View Post




"Hush now...I'm going to remove the sack from your head...don't struggle", he crooned.

as his fingers worked on the knotted rope. It was a reassuring voice, and for a moment she thought she had been saved.

She felt the pressure release from around her neck as the rope loosened. He lifted the sack gently from her head with the tenderness of a parent easing a jumper off of their sleeping child.

A rush of cool air hit her face and diluted the smell of chloroform. Clara slumped to her side and vomited. Her head pounded. Her scorched tongue lolled and felt too big for her mouth. She pushed herself up on her elbow to look at her rescuer.

But it was him. He was kneeling by the mattress, smiling benignly like an attending priest at her bedside.

"There now...that's better. .you're safe, " he whispered, stepping back to admire her.




"It's been a long time," he said. "We've been waiting for you—to find you. You don't know how hard we looked, searching everywhere, turning over brick after obstacle."

"Where are my glasses?" she asked.

"Oh, yes—yyyeeeesss," he said. "Your spectacles." But he made no motion to find or retrieve them. She thought about screaming but didn't want to make him angry. She was not tied down or restrained by anything other than confusion and the pounding in her head.

He might have been fifty, stocky like a fullback and Asian like her. She brushed her hands down her denim skirt, checking to make sure her undergarments were intact.

"I'll get Lyn to clean this mess," he said suddenly. "You'll be in no shape for work—no shape at all for a while."
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Old 07-22-2017, 03:57 PM
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Old 07-22-2017, 04:41 PM
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Originally Posted by brianpatrick View Post
"It's been a long time," he said. "We've been waiting for you—to find you. You don't know how hard we looked, searching everywhere, turning over brick after obstacle."

"Where are my glasses?" she asked.

"Oh, yes—yyyeeeesss," he said. "Your spectacles." But he made no motion to find or retrieve them. She thought about screaming but didn't want to make him angry. She was not tied down or restrained by anything other than confusion and the pounding in her head.

He might have been fifty, stocky like a fullback and Asian like her. She brushed her hands down her denim skirt, checking to make sure her undergarments were intact.

"I'll get Lyn to clean this mess," he said suddenly. "You'll be in no shape for work—no shape at all for a while."
Clara looked down at the spreading shadow on the front of her skirt. The mattress was wet beneath her. Fear robbed
her dignity and replaced it with shame. Golden teardrops trickled down her legs. Her shoes were missing.

"Please." Her voice was barely audible. "Don't kill me."

His eyes widened with mock surprise, and he leaned back as if she'd slapped him.

"Oh Clara. How can I kill you? You were already dead. How can you think that worthless existence was a life, hmm?"

She remembered that tone - the soft, lulling voice. So controlled and calm. Eighteen months working the street corners had taught her to fear softly spoken men, as if the memory of him wasn't enough. They caressed you with their voices but you always got out of the car bleeding.

He stood up abruptly and she shrank back, knees drawn up and heart racing. He slowly crossed the basement and picked up a shovel leaning in the corner.

"Clara? Pay attention. I don't want you to waste energy screaming when I leave."

Two hands gripped the shovel golfer-style and he swung it back with all the grace of a country gent on the fairway. Her fringe lifted with the breeze from his swing. She gasped and screwed her eyes shut.

The silence erupted with the sound of smashing metal as he brought the shovel high above his head and slammed it down on top of an ancient washing machine. Poised and postured like a soldier on parade, he repeated the movement again...again...again.. until his target echoed like a gong in the emptiness and the metal crumpled like a tossed cigarette packet.

Not a bead of sweat on him. His breath as slow and even as if he was sleeping. He let the shovel fall from his hands and stared at her.

"You see? Make as much noise as you like Clara. Nobody will come... nobody."

He lent over her and gently lifted a wet strand of hair from her cheek. "Lyn and I are your family now."

Tag Myers.
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  #10  
Old 07-22-2017, 08:10 PM
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Mine.
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Mr. Ed said I should use his signature, since he's not anymore. In honor of his good friend Nok, here it is: "As far as smoking a cigar," she said, "I'd not know where to start or how to start." "It's simple," said I, "You light one end and chew on the other and hope to meet in the middle."
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Old 07-22-2017, 08:26 PM
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He stood and walked to the foot of the stairs, where he stopped, one hand on the rail, and said again, "It's better. You're safe," before climbing to a landing above and knocking on a door.

"It's me," he said in response to a muffled question from the other side, and the door was opened. As he stepped through, she cried, "Wait!" but the door was already closed and she was left alone in the silence.

She felt the wetness and looked about for a towel or cloth . A blanket hanging on the far wall seemed to be the only thing she could use, so she walked over, leaving wet footprints on the hard packed clay, and yanked it down.
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Mr. Ed said I should use his signature, since he's not anymore. In honor of his good friend Nok, here it is: "As far as smoking a cigar," she said, "I'd not know where to start or how to start." "It's simple," said I, "You light one end and chew on the other and hope to meet in the middle."
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  #12  
Old 07-22-2017, 08:31 PM
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Prod - tag the next writer x
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Old 07-22-2017, 08:36 PM
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That's right -- we'll get Myers in on this yet, but if he's not available I'd like to see what kind of poetry Mr. Pierce can bring to the enterprise.
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Mr. Ed said I should use his signature, since he's not anymore. In honor of his good friend Nok, here it is: "As far as smoking a cigar," she said, "I'd not know where to start or how to start." "It's simple," said I, "You light one end and chew on the other and hope to meet in the middle."
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  #14  
Old 07-22-2017, 08:42 PM
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Both are AFK.

Mine.
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Old 07-22-2017, 09:34 PM
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Alone, the fear and desperation rose from her gut and tore her throat like a chicken bone. Clara buried her face in the blanket and sobbed.


Pasha dragged a chair to the kitchen table and joined the huddle of men. He reached for the cigarette packet and clicked his fingers impatiently to summon a light. His brother leaned across the table and obliged with the snap of a silver zippo. Pasha caught the retreating hand in his giant fist and squeezed until the lighter dropped on the table.

"Mine I believe".

Dev leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes.

"What do we do now?"

The other two men placed their cards face down in front of them and looked at Pasha expectantly.

"We make contact tomorrow". Pasha released a thin stream of smoke from thinner lips.

"Her father wlll pay for us to purge his family of the shame that girl has brought to them. The wealthy bitch of a sister will pay for her safe return...and we sell to the highest bidder. "

Dev nodded and rose from the table. "Should I take her water?"

"Take her nothing. We'll let her talk to her big sister the screen goddess tomorrow. She needs to sound...uncomfortable...to tear at the heart strings and rack up the noughts on the end of our fee."

Arjun looked uneasy and reached for the cigarettes.

"We're not going to hurt her are we?"

"No. Not.. yet. We keep up the pretence that Lynn and I have saved her from herself. Arjun, go and get Lynn now. We'll send her down to smooth ruffled feathers. I don't want the little bitch howling all night."


Tag BP or Nick
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Old 07-23-2017, 01:48 PM
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With the change of perspective we are now shooting for a novel or novella here. I'd love to invent Lyn. She could be interesting. I have to finish fixing my wife's car and then I'll give it a crack.

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Old 07-23-2017, 01:58 PM
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Bri, sorry...didn't mean to hog the thread yesterday. I was awake all night with back pain - felt pretty miserable so I entertained myself with this.

Yeah, have some fun with Lynn.
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Old 07-23-2017, 02:03 PM
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Lyn is Chinese. One 'n'😆
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Old 07-23-2017, 02:14 PM
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Sorry about your back. Should I send Sergio around to rub it out?

Don't worry, he's gay so you won't feel violated, just relaxed.

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Old 07-23-2017, 02:22 PM
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Blimey...

There's a 'meaty love to boast of' if ever I saw it!


My Asian characters are Bangladeshi so the plot thickens!
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Old 07-23-2017, 03:00 PM
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Originally Posted by Grace Gabriel View Post
Alone, the fear and desperation rose from her gut and tore her throat like a chicken bone. Clara buried her face in the blanket and sobbed.


Pasha dragged a chair to the kitchen table and joined the huddle of men. He reached for the cigarette packet and clicked his fingers impatiently to summon a light. His brother leaned across the table and obliged with the snap of a silver zippo. Pasha caught the retreating hand in his giant fist and squeezed until the lighter dropped on the table.

"Mine I believe".

Dev leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes.

"What do we do now?"

The other two men placed their cards face down in front of them and looked at Pasha expectantly.

"We make contact tomorrow". Pasha released a thin stream of smoke from thinner lips.

"Her father wlll pay for us to purge his family of the shame that girl has brought to them. The wealthy bitch of a sister will pay for her safe return...and we sell to the highest bidder. "

Dev nodded and rose from the table. "Should I take her water?"

"Take her nothing. We'll let her talk to her big sister the screen goddess tomorrow. She needs to sound...uncomfortable...to tear at the heart strings and rack up the noughts on the end of our fee."

Arjun looked uneasy and reached for the cigarettes.

"We're not going to hurt her are we?"

"No. Not.. yet. We keep up the pretence that Lynn and I have saved her from herself. Arjun, go and get Lynn now. We'll send her down to smooth ruffled feathers. I don't want the little bitch howling all night."


Dev poked his head in the door of the dry cleaners. Lyn didn't like him in the building, said he stunk like a Filipino. Her daughter Suzu, spinning the rack, saw him and nodded. Dev snuck a look at her ass, her tight young tits when she turned around, but she was untouchable. He knew that. He backed out, leaning on the wall and waited. He flipped a Camel into his lips but remembered the Zippo. Fuck. Lyn didn't like smokers anyway, part of his smell he thought. He tossed it into the gutter and punched his hands down inside the pockets of his chinos.

The sun was going down. People were hurrying home; made it easy to be invisible.

Lyn came from around back carrying a bowl wrapped in a pink scarf. "What did I tell you about the front door," she said.

"I—I um, sorry, I forgot."

She shoved the bowl into him, made him take it. "This will help you remember."

"What is it?"

"It's the severed penis of the last dirty Filipino who wouldn't listen," she said.

Dev felt sick. He cupped the bowl in one hand, holding it away from himself. "Pasha needs you to help out,"

"I heard—" she said. "You boys have hooked a big fish, you know? This isn't piss play. The money will have to be right."

"It will—it will. Her sister will pay. Pasha says—"

Lyn smoothed her long blue dress. She pulled the hairpin from her bunched bun and shook out her hair. "Pasha says a lot of things these days. That doesn't make it so." She was immaculate, perfect. "Your brother owes me more than you know," she said.

"He pays his debts—"

"He pays what he can afford; sometimes that's not enough. This one may bring him even or it may drown him." She picked a fuzzy from her belly, flinging it to the wind. "You Flips are like dogs: come, sit, beg, whine. You're all the same."

"But this girl has rich parents," said Dev.

"Suzu has rich parents," she said. "Do you think we would pay?"

Dev didn't answer. He knew the answer. "So you'll do it then?"

"I'll come around when we close for the day. This is a conditional appearance. Then you're on your own."

Dev backed away smiling. "What should I do with this?" he asked holding the bowl out.

"Don't eat it—" she said.
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Old 07-23-2017, 08:25 PM
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Originally Posted by Grace Gabriel View Post
Blimey...



There's a 'meaty love to boast of' if ever I saw it!





My Asian characters are Bangladeshi so the plot thickens!


Well, Lyn thinks they're Filipino. She could be wrong though.😆
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Old 07-24-2017, 06:37 AM
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(mine)

while still in the depth of the interlude umpteen thoughts crossed her mind at differing paces, where somehow all that was happening at once, all seemed like a dream as it were, no two dreams in fact, or a dream within a dream even, one dream made up her reality of course yet the other was all her conjectures upon that reality there, the what had happened, the what could happen still, and how to ready one's response if any, "...you think too much..." went the voice in her mind, continuing "...try not to think so much, what happen will happen anyway...","...as if that was in my nature not to think things through though, I mean if don't live life here then life will simply live me in my absence of thought, naah I can't change fate perhaps, but can still know what fate is store for me..." something she voiced to herself swaying her lone finger as if to refute any suggestion of such a thing, not that she was sure though, only that it sounded right still, whereupon the voice just smiled "...same fate for us all in the end, surely you don't want to know the where and when of it then, you're not ready for that now...", the interlude was breaking into action now, just no one was ever ready really

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Old 07-24-2017, 01:29 PM
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Lovely Flea.

Noticed how you elegantly sidestepped the issue of a freshly severed penis in a shoebox...
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Old 07-24-2017, 04:54 PM
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Originally Posted by Grace Gabriel View Post
Lovely Flea.



Noticed how you elegantly sidestepped the issue of a freshly severed penis in a shoebox...


Details, details, dear...

It was a severed penis in a bowl (I pictured a lidded rice bowl), wrapped in a pink scarf.
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Old 07-25-2017, 01:25 AM
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(next day and it was raining still, somehow the goblin in response to grace's post took a quick glance between his legs to make sure it was still there, stating "...not mine then, though frankly at my age I'd hardly know if it was missing even...", meanwhile the voice from the nearby radio aired out in its excited tone "...yes folks, anything could happen in the next hundred words, will writersbeat's authors prove their worth of consistency, or will silence prevail anew...", the goblin just looked up at the rain and smiled "...well, the truth has to be my reality here I suppose, and everybody wants the truth at least in theory, yet after awhile all this reality then makes them try for their escape instead, which is where one's escape from this reality becomes the truth of it, admittedly such truth is unacceptable as it isn't real though, it's one's escape...", so the rain just rained down all the harder in response to his lone conjecture, where the goblin himself felt the need for his escape all the more)

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Old 08-01-2017, 02:21 PM
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Originally Posted by brianpatrick View Post
Details, details, dear...

It was a severed penis in a bowl (I pictured a lidded rice bowl), wrapped in a pink scarf.

Yeah, sorry Bri.

Always keep mine in a shoebox at home.
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Old 08-01-2017, 02:21 PM
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Old 08-01-2017, 04:12 PM
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Dev studied the old man rambling to himself on a bench in the corner, then searched Lyn's face for direction. She shook her head.

"He's fine, he's fine", she said quietly, "that's Fleabag. Just sits in the corner for warmth and taps away on his laptop."

Dev flicked his eyes to the bowl in his hands and raised an eyebrow. Lyn flashed a smile.

"No, he doesn't have a clue, he just talks to himself all the time ..but get going", she hissed.

And with that, everything cruel and shrewd in her face rearranged itself to a hostess smile as she stepped back into the doorway of her premises.

"Now get yourself off home and nurse that cold", she called out for listening ears, "and make sure you have that soup." With her back to Fleabag, her mouth tightened to a vivid scar. "I'll make more if I need to." Her scarlet talons discreetly flicked at Dev's crotch.

"Remember that hmm?"

Lyn smiled to herself as she watched Dev head gingerly along the street, white knuckles gripping the rice bowl as if it was a hand grenade. From the corner, Fleabag's voice rose to deliver the final crescendo of his monologue.

"Ah, but how do we even define reality when the story one weaves in daily life is fake and only the dark and convoluted plots in our mind are real? The question is not.."

"Cut the fucking CRAP Flea!", Lyn spat, "he's gone. Now earn your keep and glue those beady little eyes of yours on my till and my fucking daughter. If ANYBODY tries to get their fingers in either one - shoot 'em."

Lyn's heels clicked across the floor towards him, leaving puncture wounds in the linoleum. She swiped the laptop from Fleabag's lap, glancing at the screen before snapping it shut like a castanet. Her top lip curled in disgust.

"Fucking Writersbeat", she sneered. " What a pussy."
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four hundred years from now! Mike Philbin Writers' Cafe 19 03-03-2007 08:43 AM


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