It’s Monday’s Finish the Story time again! Barbara Beacham has done her work, now we need to do ours. Yours truly is planning to add another chapter to Sophie Marcus’ investigation of the murder of the Brigadier. If you have missed the first two chapters you can follow them with these: Brigadier # 1, Brigadier # 2.
“Pizza anyone?” an officer called. He dropped a stack of pizza boxes on the desk beside Sophie, who was in deep concentration.
“Food Sophie?” Tom asked.
“Not now,” she said shuffling through the transcripts of the suspect interviews. There was something, but she couldn’t quite recall exactly what it was.
“Detective Marcus?” one of the staff of the mansion poked their head in the door of the room Sophie commandeered for their work.
Sophie straightened, turning her head from side to side as she tried to work the kinks out of her neck. She stood and walked toward the woman who slowly backed through the door into the corridor.
“My name is Christman, Anna Christman.”
“You know something,” Sophie said, reading her face.
“I heard an argument between the Brigadier and another, just before he was found.”
Andy loved a practical joke. It had taken some stealth, but he’d put together the greatest prank of his life.
The sounds of eighteen horns filled the air. It was almost time.
Andy licked his lips in eager anticipation. The large train horn sat ready, only waiting for the correct harmonic combination. Andy looked for his professional grade headphones that would save his hearing. Where were they? “Oh no,” he thought.
His eyes darted to the lattice door to escape and he could see the huge tuba case laying against it. He began to breathe harder as the music swelled.
I hope you will all forgive me for my oversight last week: I forgot to submit my own Sunday Photo Fiction entry! I feel I have a bona fide reason, maybe more than one. First of all I returned from a bus trip to Chicago about noon on Monday. There is nothing like an eighteen hour bus ride to wear you out. Then shortly after arriving at my house I learned my uncle had died unexpectedly. Prior to this I agreed to be a pall bearer for a church friend and then I was asked to do the same for my uncle. Add to all of that our family pet died Wednesday morning and I have just been totally distracted. I appreciate all of you faithfully adding your stories!
“I don’t believe in curses, never have!” Bertram intoned.
“Just because you don’t believe them does not mean they are not possible,” Sadie replied. “My cousin Enid was the victim of a carnival psychic’s curse. She was stuck on the Ferris wheel for four days.”
“She was stuck for reasons other than a curse. Number one we don’t have a six story fire apparatus to help her down. Number two the carnival people were inept and did not maintain their equipment. Lastly she didn’t want to come down because Henry was on his monthly bender.”
Sadie shot Bertram a look that might have stopped a lesser man short, but Bertram was a veteran of forty years with this woman and knew he was right.
“Anyway,” Sadie said, as she did when she did not like the answer she received, ”There is stories all the time on cable channels about the type of curses people endure every day.”
“When you create 300 channels you have to be equally creative with programming to keep them running.”
“Why do you always argue with everything I say?”
“Because, you sound foolish talking about such nonsense!”
A bright flash of light followed, and then there was silence. A museum worker opened the door and sighed at the new statue. She didn’t know where they came from, but the sure did sell quickly in the gift store.
Welcome to my 2015 A to Z Theme Reveal for the Fiction Playground. In 2013 I took part in my initial A to Z challenge and did not put as much thought into how I wanted to approach the challenge. in truth I did not find out about it un til days before, so there wasn’t time to do much other than my 26 posts. I missed last years turn but wanted to give 2015 a really solid try. This year I have redesigned my blogging efforts and have 4 blogs entered into the A to Z.
For this particular one my focus is on fiction. I love fiction prompts because you get to tell a story based on someone else’s idea. As I thought about ho I would approach this year’s challenge I asked an editor friend of mine if he would consider supplying the 26 prompts based on the letter of the alphabet. For a bonus his daughter, a fine photographer, will supply a photo to add to the degree of difficulty. While we were all in Chicago for a high school band trip I pulled them into a picture with me.
Chris, my editor friend is on the left, his daughter Hannah, a high school sophomore is in the middle. That leave yours truly on the outside. Between the three of us we intend to make the A to Z come to life using 26 fiction prompts. I invite you to come back and give me your opinion. In order to stay close to the A to Z guidelines the prompt responses will be flash fiction, 350-400 words. I have no idea or input into the prompts, so I will respond to them when Chris sends them over each day.
I expect this will make for an exciting journey as we count the days in April. I appreciate your visit to my theme reveal and invite you to not only return for the 2015 A to Z challenge, but to check out my other theme reveals as well.
OK all you micro-fiction fans, here is another to test your skill. It is one managed by David Borrowdale from across the pond and runs each Thursday from 5 AM U.K. time Thursday until 5 AM U.K. time on Friday. You have a beginning word, ending word and 90 to 110 words including them to tell your story. The story is added to the comments page for judging. Each week a different judge is selected, but lately has been the winner from the previous week. I have added my effort for this week to the comments, but will add here in hopes of sharing this opportunity with those that frequent the Fiction Playground.
Here is my response as it appears in the comments:
You Are Served
“Doctor Framingham? Paging Doctor Framingham, your table is ready.” The slim, regal looking maître de surveyed the room but saw no one moving in response to his page.
He repeated the call at least a half-dozen more times before moving to the next name on his list. He repeated the same process with name after name on his list.
From the kitchen Chef Andre chuckled with glee. Erroll Lazenby was a top notch maître de, but he was no food critic. His slanderous opinion of the new signature dish made Andre feel payback was justified. The phony guest list wouldn’t trace back to him.
It’s Monday’s Finish the Story time again! Barbara Beacham has done her work, now we need to do ours. Yours truly is planning to add another chapter to Sophie Marcus’ investigation of the murder of the Brigadier.
“When the team heard the dam explode, they knew they had limited time to make it to safety.”
Tom Welling stood with his notebook where he could review what he wrote and his attention was on it when Sophie approached. She took in the expressions of the men, their attire and then touched Tom’s arm to announce her arrival.
“Hey Soph! You need to hear this. Tell her,” Tom said to the man on the left.
“Eight years ago a dozen of us had two rafts on Penley River. The Brigadier was in one with us, the other raft had Sir Kincaid and his sons and nephew. What we didn’t know was the dam was to be destroyed that day.”
“Don’t forget about the bad boat,” the other man added.
“Bad boat?” Sophie asked.
“Yes,” the first man continued. “We managed to escape the rush of water, but their boat did not. When the search teams found the boat it had several knife holes in it.”
“Sabotage?” Sophie asked.
“The knife blade was a match for one of the Brigadier’s favorites,” the second man answered.
“I don’t remember hearing anything about the Brigadier being implicated,” Sophie replied.
Friday Fictioneers begins again! Please accept my apologies, the grand plans I had to read all the Fictioneers posts I could on my trip to Chicago went awry and left me wishing I had a better tablet, better wi-fi and more time. Here is to a better plan this week.
Freida loved to shop by the home improvement magazines. Her favorite highlighted the outside décor.
John wanted Freida to be happy, so when shopping for a new house he took her magazine.
He was almost giddy when he found the perfect place. It even had the outdoor arrangment she had gushed about repeatedly.
Freida sat with the blindfold on, patiently riding to their new home. “You’re going to love it,” John said.
Freida’s excitement ceased when she viewed her new backyard.