Monday is the first opportunity each week to get your fiction writing fix. Barbara Beacham gives us a photo and first line to a 200 word fiction masterpiece. I hope you enjoy mine.
I watched the vulture looking at me hungrily as I lay on the ground bleeding and injured. I could see him and he could see me. He can wait, he knows I cannot get away. The storm is over now, the sky clear. I think the power stayed on after I climbed the pole to fix the main line. I guess Harley was right, my boot spikes were too worn to wear in the hurricane. But I knew I could get the line fixed in time to save the town.
I still have hope. I am sure the rescue and clean up crews will arrive soon. If I can just hold out until they do. I never stop and just admire the blue sky. I need to do that more, if….
Baraba Beacham gives us a photo prompt and first sentence of a fiction prompt on Mondays. You can join us here.
Not knowing what to expect, he made his way into the dark of the forest. He was too old for initiation, wasn’t he? Yes, he wanted to finally gt a chance to do this extreme ropes and zip line course, but the guys of Theta Kappa Phi were determined he had to do this first. Starting a second degree at 34 had been the wife’s idea. He knew she was right, his two year degree wasn’t generating enough income. But really, was this necessary?
He turned to look at the group of eighteen, nineteen and twenty year olds who were loving every minute of this. He fully expected some others to be waiting in the woods. What they didn’t know was he was an excellent woodsmen and had special forces training. This was going to sour on them very quickly. He wouldn’t hurt them, just scare the daylights out of them.
Need a primer to get your writing going? Then you might want to look for the Monday Finish the Story prompt. Barbara Beacham gives you a photo and opening sentence to kick off the fun. Here is my rendition.
copyright- Barbara Beacham
The A&B Building was made entirely from driftwood. To say it was unique seemed hardly a worthy explanation. That is what drove the new owner to call the Greater Midwest Register of Historical Places and request they make the three hour sojourn to see his new purchase.
The three women from the historical society stood speechless before the unique structure before them. The trio had decades of experience between them, having visited numerous locales to absorb some unique and tantalizing historical buildings. But this, this one was a horse of a different color.
Nearby, Hugh McMann anxiously watched the expressions on their faces.
Ladies, I want to tell you again how excited I am you made the trip up here from Kansas City to see my find. I know you will consider it worthy of your attention. Keep in mind it was erected in 1899.
“How could we not list it?” the lady in charge agreed.
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.”
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.
A body suddenly crashed through a plate glass window at the Brigadier’s house. This wasn’t the first time such had happened but it would be the last. Because this time it was Neville Flanagan Gustaf, the Brigadier himself lying in a pool of blood. Too many men, women and children had died at his hands. No one would mourn his passing.
“Morning Detective,” an officer said. “Are you working solo today?”
“No. Tom is looking around downstairs. No movement of the body?”
“None since I got here,’ The officer replied.
Sophie knelt to examine the body more closely. She fished a small flashlight from her blazer pocket and clicked it on. A few sweeps around the neck and she stood with a knowing expression.
“I am confident to rule this a homicide,” she said. “There is bruising around the victim’s throat that was sustained peri-mortem. Someone either tried to or strangled the Brigadier before he fell through the ceiling.”
For those new to my fiction writing let me take a moment to introduce you to one of my recurring characters, Detective Sophie Marcus. Sophie and her partner Tom, investigate murders for the Charleston, South Carolina police department. I imagine Sophie in her late thirties to early forties, about Five foot and a half, with light brown hair and emerald eyes.
Unless Barbara objects I will follow this story for four more weeks finishing the entire story in 1,000 words. I hope you enjoy. Please comment and tell me what you think!
Flash Fiction is a tricky thing, in that you have a limited amount of words to lay out the scene, setting, plot and rise and climax. It definitely helps sharpen my writing, I can see that. So, all this introduction to confirm I have found another: Monday’s Finish the Story hosted by Barbara Beacham. This iteration gives a little bit different direction with a 150 word limit and an opening line with the photo prompt.
I will let you off the hook this time and leave the Puxatawney Phil saga alone for this one since I got a different idea from the photo. Let me know what you think please, feedback makes my writing better!
Finish the story begins with:“On March 9th, 2015, three objects were reportedly seen in the skies over the Borracho Todos los Tiempos Vineyards.”
Here we go:
On March 9th, 2015, three objects were reportedly seen in the skies over the Borracho Todos los Tiempos Vineyards. Kelly Pettis, reporter from the Caney Valley Tribune arrived barely minutes after the strange lights disappeared. She interviewed visitors within the vineyards eager to share their ideas about what happened.
“It was aliens, it was!” a small Hispanic woman declared. “Flew in from that direction,” she said pointing north.
“It was Uncle Sam,” a Viet Nam vet said. He tugged at his too small leather vest arrayed with patches from his time of service. “Some of them there droids!”
“I think you mean drones?” Kelly suggested.
“That’s it!” spying on us just like the VC.”
Every interview uncovered a new potential explanation. Only when she talked to the vintner did the truth come clear.
“We opened a new vintage last evening. Promised to be stout enough to make you see stars!”