And Another Thing

As we probably haven't informed you, one of J.T.Z. Baner--me, in short--has centered his Camp NaNoWriMo project on novellas, just a fancy word for jumped up short stories, the highest form of shortened novel writing.

Over the first ensuing days of Camp, I've realized what energizes your brain really well is just a dive into the imagination, a random flirt with the letter keys per se.

In short, a three thing story prompt. I've done three of them so far in the first few days of camp, and they've helped immensely, the fact that I am still behind nine hundred words is irrelevant.

Here are some of the more enjoyable ones I've done so far, if you want to read more, just comment below with three (preferably imaginative) story components.

BEGIN!!!

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1. A record player

2. A first edition Gulliver’s Travels

3. A diadem

The shop closed soon after daylight had discontinued its glare against the dusty windows. Shooing a few stray children clutching (all four of them) what they thought was a first edition of Gulliver’s Travels. And they thought right, Erik thought, bolting the door and flipping the open sign to its opposite. He was no swindler, a bookstore was a bookstore, and he liked to think his was the best in London.

            Just as he was closing the blind, and alreadyt hinking about his squashy armchair and the ancient record player sitting invitingly out of sight upstairs, Erik caught sight of three dark figures scuttling from an alleyway like bipedal beetles, up the steps of the museum and seemingly straight through its dark windows.

            Immediately discarding his thoughts of sleep, Erik unlocked the front door and toed silently out and up to the museum’s window where the figures had dissapeared. He immediately realized that they had cleanly cut out a wide circle of glass from the tall windowpane. All thoughts that the figures were not burglars were flushed from Erik’s mind. Looking around to see if any bobbies were coming by, Erik saw none. With a disgruntled swearword, Erik clambered through the window hole and into the dark interior.

            Far ahead through the blackness he caught sight of a jumping beam of bright light, the burglars had broguth flashlights. Creeping forwards, Erik passed the dark bulk of the information desk and through a corridor into what he thought might be the jewels wing.

            Ahead, the beams of light dissapeared as the figures went down a stairwell. Erik found a spiral stair and quickly clambered up it to a higher wing. Just below him, through the open middle of the wing, he saw three flashlight beams flick on and congregate around a small case. Bright white light glittered off of something jeweled. The museum’s diadem, Erik realized.

            Driven by a sudden impulse he turned, grabbed the nearest thing to hand, several glass orbs filled with cerimonial statuettes and hastened to the edge of the opened floor. Flinging down the orbs one by one, he struck down the figures in glittering explosions of ruptured glass.

            Outside the window, Erik shook his head; that would never happen. Flipping open his mobile, he clicked out 9-9-9, the police could handle the burglars.

1.  An ice berg

2. A fat duck

3.  And a spanish colonel

The punch stung Jake’s mouth like liquid bee sting. Glancing around surreptitious, he dumped the rank liquid into a nearby flowering bush. The bush swore fluently and peeled off a sopping daisy mask. That was the trouble with Halloween parties, surreptitious wasn’t in their dictionary.

            Unusually certainly was, Jake mused, two stepping past a human ice berg with a toy Titanic glued to it to avoid the profane flowerpot that still pursued him. Losing the figure in a massive wave of costumed humanity, Jake clipped some champagne from a passing Einstein Bobblehead’s tray.

            He had always liked costume parties, whether in Halloween or out. It gave people a chance to exercise their imagination, drink free beverages, and let loose in your shielded alias.

            Emptying the champagne into his mouth and tossing it aside, Jake made his way towards the room’s crowded doorway, snagging his springy feathers on a Spanish colonel’s dress uniform.

            His fat duck costume wobbled comically as he pried himself through the noisy doorway out into the far less noisy street, that was enough revelry for the night. Now to go home and egg those kids who TP’d his house last year….

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If you enjoyed them, comment below. If not, go and contract a beehive.