Squidy Sea Monster-One Tall Tale Freshly Served: Writing Exercise

Mar 4, 2014

Writing Prompt:  “Being inexperienced and having just made….” 
15 minutes

“Why would they ever have let Sandy at the pole first?  Clark fully deserved to fill that seat.  He’d have known what bait to use.  Being inexperienced and having just made the catch of the year, of the decade really, Sandy had no idea how to reel it in.  All I heard was big splash.  I was at the cooler getting a cold one when it all happened, Officer, huh, Delaware. 

            When I turned around, ole Sandman was being pulled through the water like rag doll.  The captain was no help.  The old salt’s only thought when he saw the giant squid was to put the throttle down.  All that served was to tick off the beast, as it got a jet of water in its nicotine yellow eyes.   Squinting and glaring something horrid, it wrapped its titanic tentacles round the yacht pulling it in 'twain.  The severed ship went down fast, she did.  Paul and Martin managed cut loose the diving dingy and scramble into it paddling away like mad men.  I hollered after them, but to no avail.  I just held fast to the beer cooler cause I know styrofoam floats.  That’s how you found me bobbing there, sir, by the way.  I guess the beast doesn’t like his meat well marinated. 

Last I saw of Sandy he was pulled into the brink.  The Captain, well, he’d be a guest of Davy Jones.  He went down with his ship saluting." 

Dark Water

Feb 9, 2016

Writing Prompt: Darkness- Write a story inspired by what you can’t see. 
20 minutes.

The temperature had to be at least 32 degrees and after three hours of gardening, Beth found herself staring down into the shadowy depths at the dock.  

Beth hated even putting her toes in the lake for fear of what might take a quick nibble.  What if someone had dumped their pet pirana?  Could it survive under the ice in the winter?  What if it was lurking there just under the boards waiting to grab her toes?  Jake would laugh and tell her she was ridiculous if she spoke her fear out loud.  Perhaps it was due to the shark week marathons Jake had lost himself to binge watching last week.  He, the self-proclaimed shark aficionado, swore up and down they lived on a land locked lake.  Nothing large and carnivorous could eek itself in through underground springs.

Joining her at the water side and elbowed Beth in the ribs.  “There are no bull sharks,” he teased.  “Why wouldn’t you jump right in, are you afraid of the biddy minnows?”

Beth knew she was being silly, but staring into the dark water, she saw something.  A dash of silver, the flick of a fin, something living and that something likely had teeth.  Big ones.  Do pike bite?

Maybe it was the way the slimy seaweed, as she passionately called it, and the way it waved over the hidden knee deep discustingly squishy muck in a tempting momentary reveal of any creepy crawly creatures just waiting to bite the unwary wader.  Nope, the water would feel wonderful, but Beth couldn’t do it.  She lost her nerve.  

After a minute or two of taunting and tugging at her hand, Jake wriggled out of his t-shirt, threw off his sneakers and socks and leapt with a shout of glee into the lake alone.  Beth watched as he set off across the lake, smooth strokes carrying him out to the middle in a couple of minutes.  He paused for a moment to look back at her with a big grin and waved.  

            Sweat ran down Beth's face.  It was so bloody hot!  She sunk down in her purple Muskoka chair, sulking, prepared to bake in the sun and watch Jake swim laps only to leap up after the chair roasted her seat. 

Forget it.  It was do or die, Beth plummeted into the blue embrace with a sploosh.  

That was when she heard Jake screech! 

Your Move: Writing Prompt

May 3, 2016

Writing Club

Writing Prompt: "Your Move"   ( Yep, that's all we got!  See what you get in 20 minutes of writing.  It led to some pretty great stories in group.  Just jot down whatever comes to mind.)

The first thing Toby noticed upon reaching the doorway was the void of the room itself.  Painted a drab shade of gray and the concrete floor a variation of the same, her eyes made a quick round of the space.  Completely empty.  Where had the white rabbit gone? Had she only imagined it?  Surely as she drew breath, she’d seen it scamper around the corner, down the hall to dart into the room.  Curiously she set after it, in hopes of scooping it up so she could stuff it back down the top hat Harold had left on the bench centre stage.

“Look up!,” Toby heard.  Following the voice, Toby’s gaze rose.  There in the corner of the ceiling sat a simple wooden stool.  And tucked away underneath hid the white rabbit.  His albino pink eyes peered down at her.  Or did he look up at her.  Was she up or down?  With her confusion, Toby suddenly felt dizzy and stumbled forward into the space.  Then she was tumbling towards the ceiling or was it the floor.  
It had to have been that tall drink of water Harold had passed her just before his trick back fired and he sent her on this wild goose chase.  And now up was down and down was up and she was scraping herself off the ceiling.  
The rabbit, startled at her sudden arrival, scurried out from under the stool across the floor/ceiling just out of reach where Toby lay.  Looking back over to her as it reached the doorway, it leapt over the door frame and left the room.  Trembling on the floor, or was it the floor, Toby watched the white ball of fur hop down the dark hallway to disappear into inky black.  
Pulling herself to stand on shaky legs, she slowly rose and crossed the room.  With a struggle, she pulled herself up to the door frame.   It seemed much higher than before, with a huge heave, she was up and over the lintel and suddenly falling into darkness towards a wooden surface. 

            Her hand brushed against velvet as she tumbled and she grabbed on for dear life.  Light came from the beside her and there she was with a plop head over heels, tangled in a red curtain clear as day in the spotlight.  Harold stood on the stage holding the white rabbit by the scruff.  It wiggled it’s nose contemptuously.

“It’s your move.” Harold laughed as he quickly stuffed the rabbit back in the large black top hat resting on the stage.