Welcome! We're glad you've come to test yourself against our prompt today. So go ahead and check it out and write us something amazing!
If you haven't read the full version of the rules, go here. Otherwise, here's the short version:
Rules:
1. Start with the given first sentence. (Allowable alterations listed below)
2. Up to 500 words (exclusive of title)
3. Keep it clean (nothing rated R or above)
4. Optional Special Challenge
5. Stories submitted must be your own work, using characters and worlds that you have created. Sorry, no fanfiction.
6. Include: Twitter/email, word count, Special Challenge accepted
7. The challenge is open for 24 hours on Tuesday EST
8. Only one entry judged per round. If you write/post more than one story, you need to indicate which you would like judged. If you fail to indicate, it will be the first one posted.
9. Winner judges next round.
Oh, and feel free to change pronouns, punctuation, tense, and anything in brackets to fit the story/pov/tone. I'm not going to be TOO picky... Our judge however...
Our Judge today is D.E. Park. Read his winning tale from last time here! Dave (D. E. Park) spends his spare time writing flash and micro fiction, and just attempting to get enough sleep. He’s a first-generation computer nerd (older than the internet), a lifetime devourer of SF&F (loser geek), even a comic book fan (three strikes!). He actually hasn’t been actively writing for very long (you can't tell?) He lives in Chicagoland with his wife Annie. Follow him @parkinkspot and check out his writing blog at parkinkspot.wordpress.com.
Your first sentence for FINISH THAT THOUGHT #3-20 is:
Somewhere in a lonely [hotel room], there's a [guy] starting to realize that eternal fate has turned its back on him.
Your SPECIAL CHALLENGE from the judge is:
A near-death experience.
AAAAAAAND WE'RE OFF!!!
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ReplyDelete#FlashDogs
Word Count: 294
Special Challenge Accepted
Collaboration
“Somewhere, in a lonely…”
“Town? City? State of confusion?”
“Um… Let’s leave that bit for now.”
“There’s...”
“A man? A woman? A place for us?”
“We can come back to that too.”
“Shoot, we’re not making much progress, Jake. Shall we stop for lunch?”
“Yeah. OK.”
“How about hot dogs?”
“Sounds good to me, Randy.”
#
“Are you OK, Jake? Your face is red and swollen, your breathing is laboured. Y-you’re scaring me, man!”
“Ana… phyl… actic… shock!”
“Oh, my God! I forgot you have a nut allergy. Those were vegetarian sausages. What can I do?”
“Ep… EpiPen… in my… bag.”
“OK… Hang on… EpiPen, EpiPen, EpiPen… God, I don’t even know what it looks like, let alone how to use it… Oh, thank God, here it is!”
#
“Lordy! I really thought I was a goner there, Randy. It’s true what they say. My whole life flashed before my eyes: my lonely existence as an introverted only child, a gangly prepubescent, an awkward adolescent. Right up until the moment we met on that writers’ retreat in Harrisonburg: both with writer’s block, both hiding away in cheap motels, mocked and derided by the blinking cursor at the start of a new document on an ancient laptop, until we decided to collaborate on a magnum opus for NaNoWriMo. At the very end, I saw myself typing: Somewhere, in a lonely motel room, there's a guy starting to realise that eternal fate has turned its back on him.”
“WOW! Write what you know, huh? That’s great, I love it! It really grabs your attention; makes you want to read on, find out what happens.”
“OK. We’ve got ourselves a kick-ass opening sentence - at last.”
“That’s one, two, three… twenty-one words. Only 49,979 to go!”